Page 43 of Bound By Bronx


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Davina laughs. "Do you guys know what you want?"

"I want my usual," Gemma says. She hasn't even opened her menu.

Davina nods, jotting something down in her notepad.

"I'll take the ribeye. Medium rare. With a loaded sweet potato and vegetables."

"Which vegetables? Broccoli, candied Brussels sprouts, green beans, asparagus, corn, or roasted carrots?"

"All of them."

Gemma stares at me with wide eyes. "All of them?"

"All of them."

"I'll go get this put in for you," Davina says.

"Thank you."

"Thanks," Gemma says to her friend and then turns back to me. "There's no way you can eat all of that."

"I've got about fourteen inches and one hundred pounds on you, Gemma. I'm going to eat it all." I place my hand on her thigh, inching it toward her pussy. "And then I'm going to have this for dessert."

She groans, instantly parting her thighs for me.

I shift my gaze around, checking to see what the diners around us are doing. No one in our vicinity is paying us any attention. The lights in the restaurant are dim, leaving the bottom half of the table in shadow. Even if they were staring right at us, they wouldn't be able to see a damn thing.

I slip my hand between her thighs, touching her pussy.

She inhales a breath, biting her lip.

"How did things go with your roommate last night?" I ask, gently tugging her panties to the side. I tried to convince her to spend the night with me, but I guess Coby said something to Elodie about the invitation. By the time we made it back to Gemma's place, she was home and upset. Gemma decided to stay behind to console her.

I fucking hated sleeping without her, but it was probably for the best. Had she been in my bed, she wouldn't have gotten the break her body needed. I can't seem to keep my dick out of her.

"G-good," she says, trying desperately not to squirm as I part her slit with my thumb, homing in on her clit.

I should torment her little ass and draw this out until she's ready to crack. But I don't think either of us have the willpower for that. I'll be fucking her over the table in front of God and everybody if I'm not careful. That's the power she has over me. That's how little control I have when it comes to her.

"Is she okay?"

"F-fine," she says, sticking to one-word answers as I drag my thumb in circles around her clit.

"Do you need to stay with her again tonight?"

"No."

"Good. Then you can come home with me."

"Yes."

I fight a smile. She's never been so quiet or so focused. Her hands are white as she clutches the edge of the table, trying like hell not to cry out or draw any attention to herself.

I lean over, putting my mouth close to her ear. "You're going to say my name when you come, Dilemma. I don't fucking care who hears it. You say my name."

"Bronx," she whispers, a tiny plea.

I ignore it. She knows how to stop this if she wants it to end. But we both know she won't. We both know she doesn't want it to end. She wants to come right here, right now, in front of everyone in this restaurant. She wants to get away with it, just like she did in the club on Friday. She doesn't want to be watched. Being seen doesn't interest her. It's the thrill of it that turns her on, the knowledge that someone could catch us. That's what does it for her. That's the part she loves.

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