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Our shared desire hangs heavy in the air.
Sebastian moves closer and pins Bailey in place against a wall. “Spread your legs for me,” he growls and she obeys instantly.
“Is she wet?” I ask from my position opposite her. I don’t come closer, not yet, but my voice is thick with lust. “Check her, Sebastian.”
He kneels between her feet, his hands gripping the sides of her panties. He yanks them down harshly. The fabric rips, but she doesn’t care. She thrusts her hips into Sebastian’s face. “Please…” she begs.
My cock jumps in reaction to her pleas, her open need.
Sebastian pushes three fingers into her wet, waiting pussy. “She’s soaked, Daniel.” His voice is rich with satisfaction. “Take off the bra, Bailey.”
“Here? Anyone can see,” she protests weakly, but her hands are already reaching behind to unclasp the offending garment.
“Are you questioning us, Bailey?” I ask her, my voice taut. I come closer now and my hand grips at her jaw before I press a hard kiss on her waiting lips. My tongue runs at the seam of her lips till she permits me entry.
Blood pounds in my head. She whimpers as Sebastian’s fingers thrust in and out of her pussy, his tongue dancing over her clitoris. “Please,” she begs again. Looking at her, I can tell that her climax is close. Another few seconds…
Sebastian and I exchange glances, then he thrusts his fingers in and out of her, faster and harder. At the same time, I pinch Bailey’s erect nipples between my fingers. She erupts between us in waves and waves of pleasure.
When I wake up and my head clears from its sexual fog, I shake my head in chagrin. I can’t remember the last time I had a sex dream about a woman.
Bailey Moore is trouble.
* * *
Bailey isn’t there when I get to the Maxwell Club, but Sebastian is, idly shooting some pool. I grab a beer at the bar, and walk over to him. “Want to play a game or two while we wait?”
“Sounds good,” he agrees. He racks the balls efficiently, and we toss a coin to see who breaks. Sebastian wins, and he bends over the table. “Be honest with me. What do you think of Juliette's franchise proposal?”
We haven’t had a chance to talk about this. I’ve been spending a lot of time in Kansas City, and he’s been busy sorting out the mess with Ben. This is the first opportunity we’ve had to talk about Juliette’s ambitious plans. “I’m always honest with you,” I respond. “It's a terrible idea.”
He breaks. Three balls hurtle into pockets. “I thought you might say that.”
“Don't you think so? You have to know that setting up a chain of franchise restaurants will take too much time away from your operations in New York. Already, you’re writing a cookbook and you’re filming a Food Network show. Where are you going to fit it in?” I shake my head. “You are spreading yourself dangerously thin.”
Sebastian doesn’t deny the truth of my words. “You’re right,” he says. “I know I’m crazy to think about this. Seb New York is my home. I’d rather shove bamboo skewers underneath my fingernails than to see it languish because of my inattention.” The nine slides into the top right pocket. “Still,” he says slowly. “The vision of a restaurant in Hattiesburg shimmers and beckons.”
“Why are you still trying to prove yourself to them, Sebastian?” I ask him, though I know the answer. Sebastian’s upbringing was hell, and I do understand his desire to rub his success in the face of his hometown. “There are people here in New York who believe in you, who want you. Can’t you just let Mississippi go?”
He misses his shot and I move to the table. “You did that deliberately,” he accuses with a faint grin. “Let’s change the topic. What do you think about Bailey? I'm looking forward to tonight.”
“As am I.” My smile dims as I shake my head. “I checked up on her,” I tell him. “She just moved out of a man's apartment. I’m assuming he’s the ex. His name is Trevor Decker. The guy owns about a dozen sandwich shops in the city. And he plays in the league. What?”
