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A straw with a lipstick stain on the tip.
My heart pounds as I lift the cup out of the holder and run the tip of my tongue over traces of the Jillian’s lipstick when a truly unhinged thought hits me.
Looking around, I unbuckle my pants, then lower my zipper. My cock falls heavily into my hand. Even flaccid, the thing is huge. If I weren’t in a public place, I’d jerk off and let my cum soak into her car mats.
I stroke myself until a pearl of precum bubbles out. Putting the straw between my legs, I let the drop coat the end of the straw. I also rub the stem up and down my shaft.
Relax… I’m marking what’s mine.
And all my tests came back clean.
“You’re fucking mine, Jillian.”
And to prove it to everyone, including her, I’m going to make her leave her dinner date. No, I won’t drag her out. I’ll convince her to leave on her own.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Eoghan
Rounding the back of the restaurant, I come up on the other side of the hostess stand.
A place like this has people waiting for a table at the bar, and others milling around outside in the sitting area I breezed through.
I don’t wait.
Smiling, I say, “I’m meeting…” My throat tightens. “…my wife.”
The hostess’s face falls hearing I’m unavailable and just waves me into the dining room down a narrow-carpeted hallway.
Wide columns separate the bar area and the modest dining room. It’s dimly lit, and the smell of garlic and basil stirs my stomach.
Jillian’s pin-straight blonde hair stands out and my fury lights up seeing her sitting with a man at a curved banquette.
She’s running a hand along the stem of a wine glass, her eyes heavy. She looks…bored. With tense shoulders, her lips form a tight, fake smile. She gives me that bullshit grin enough, I know it anywhere.
The guy is facing me but looking at her. He’s so enraptured he doesn’t see me. Or anyone. I lift my phone to snap a photo and text it to Balor.
Me: Who the fuck is this?
Wavy dots appear and I smile.
A Nevada License pops up.
Stephen Decker.
Balor: Employment records show he’s an attorney at Cantor McMillian.
One of the law firms Borgia fired.
What the fuck is she doing?
Me: Thanks, man.
Balor: You coming home tomorrow?
Me: Aye.
Balor: Safe travels.
