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I’d run my hand up until I could feel how wet your panties are.
I swallow and shift on the chair, moving a little closer to Michael. He would. Nathan would never be shy about touching me in public. Even indecently.
I’d keep my conversation going as you wiggled on your chair, my little dirty slut.
I freeze for a second. It’s almost like Nathan canseeme. He knows me that well.
But I’d lean over and whisper to you to stay still. And you’re such a good girl that you would. You’d spread your knees wider under the table for me, but to everyone else you’d smile and nod and sip your wine and act like nothing was happening.
I sit up a little straighter, reaching for my wine glass. The movement brings me closer to the edge of my chair and Michael’s hand moves up my leg an inch, though not on purpose. I take a sip of chardonnay–I’d much prefer a Moscato, or even a sweet red–and smile even though I have no idea who’s speaking or what they’re talking about. Michael’s hand is hot on my leg and I’m hearing “you’re such a good girl” in my ear in Nathan’s voice, then Michael’s, then Crew’s.
God, can anyone see my hard nipples through the bodice of this dress?
I look down to check. Nope, I’m good right now. But Nathan has sent another text.
Then, since you’re wearing that fucking thong, I’d run my finger up and down over your clit through the material, making sure you were very, very sorry you left that on and can’t feel me right up against your sweetness.
I blow out a little breath and put my hand on Michael’s. I run my thumb back and forth across his knuckles. He squeezes my leg again, but doesn’t look at me or interrupt his conversation.
I’d tease you like that until I know it’s killing you to sit still. Then I’d slip my finger under the edge of that tiny scrap and slide my finger into your sweet, tight, wet, pussy, watching your face, knowing that you want to gasp and moan but that you can’t.
Oh. God. I should have never started this.
I move Michael’s hand up my leg a few inches.
I feel his arm tense. But he still doesn’t look at me. Or do anything else.
I’d lean over and whisper that you can’t come, no matter what, not until I say so.
I take another long drink of wine and realize I’ve emptied my glass. I set the glass down and reach for my water, taking a huge gulp.
But the second we’re inside that elevator, I would back you up against the wall, rip that thong off of you, and finger fuck you until the elevator stopped on another floor. I’d pull my hand away just before the next people get on. But I’d hold that thong in my hand–if they looked closely they’d see, I wouldn’t hide it– and I’d lift my fingers to my mouth and lick you off of them behind the backs of total strangers while your pussy drips and throbs for me all the way up to the penthouse. Where you would hike that skirt up, bend over, and beg me to fuck you without even stepping out of your heels, like my sweet, dirty, perfect little slut.
I’m nearly panting. This was such a terrible, but awesome idea.
I move Michael’s hand higher, until he rests on the lacy hem of my skirt.
He doesn’t move it, up or down, and he’s not talking now. But he’s looking across the table at the other doctors, listening to what they’re saying.
So I slide his hand higher.
Then he moves.
He pulls his hand away from me.
I frown up at him, but he doesn’t look at me.
I’m still breathing fast, but I cross my legs and type into my phone.
Well, no, Michael’s hand is not under my skirt.
Again, I almost add,wish you were here. But that makes my chest feel tight. I’m happy to be here with Michael. I love him and love having one-on-one time with him. He and Nathan are very different men. Just because Nathan would feel me up under the table and play dirty games with me, doesn’t mean Michael has to.
But Michael pulling away makes me feel really strange. My stomach twists. Michael hasneverrejected me. Not ever. He’s never not touched me given the chance. I feel almost embarrassed. I type to Nathan.
I tried to move his hand up but he pulled away.
My cheeks are actually burning. I need Nathan to say something sexy. Or sweet. Something to make me feel less ashamed.
