by Ava Lore
"You may live on your feet," he whispered, "but I will bend you over and fuck you all the same."
And he slipped under the table.
It was so quick, so unexpected, that I was still staring at the spot where he had been and trying to muster the presence of mind to react when I felt his large, hot hands on my knees.
My god. He was kneeling under the table, hidden by the long table cloth. He was going to—going to—
I wish I could say I put up a fight. But my thighs parted at the slightest pressure from his hands, and I opened to him.
He pushed my skirt up, rearranging the table cloth so that it fell across my lap and hid my sudden indecency from the rest of the lunch crowd. All around me conversation carried on as usual. Glasses clinked, knives scraped against forks, someone tittered at an amusing joke. And Anton Waters gently pushed the crotch of my panties aside, parting the slick folds there.
I felt the rough tip of one finger poised at my entrance. Then it slid up, up, up, almost touching my clit, but he only grazed it before sliding back down, pressing against my waiting channel. I was biting my lip so hard I could almost taste blood. Up his finger came again, gently teasing me, then down it went. Up, and down. Up and down. Up, and down again, each time pressing ever so slightly into me.
It was torture. My cheeks burned. I wanted to reach down under the table and slam his face against my pussy. I wanted to leap up and kick him. I didn't dare do either of those things. I knew I was soaking through my panties and probably staining my skirt, but I couldn't bring myself to push him away. My whole existence was his finger and my aching cunt. The restaurant faded around me and I closed my eyes, trying to maneuver my hips into his finger yet again. I needed him to touch my clit. I was going to die without it.
But he didn't. Instead, he paused again at my entrance, and I could feel his gaze on me, staring straight into my quivering folds. I was exposed to him. All my defenses were stripped away, need spiraling out of control.
Slowly, surely, one long finger entered me. I convulsed around him.
“Miss?”
Oh no. No, no, no. Not now. Go away...
“Miss, is there anything I can bring you?”
I forced my eyes open to see the waitress hovering at the side of the table, looking at me curiously. Surely she knew what was happening. It had to be obvious.
The finger inside me curled, and my toes curled along with it.
“No!” I said. “Nothing. Thanks!”
She looked at me strangely. “Your lunch will be out shortly. There's a bit of a backup in the kitchen.”
Don't care! I wanted to scream.
I felt Waters move under the table. Rough cheeks scraped over my tender inner thighs.
Oh god. No, don't, don't you dare.
“Ma'am?” the waitress said. “You don't look very well.”
“Just a hangover,” I blurted. “Need some hair of the dog.” I reached for the wine glass I had rejected, desperate to hide my cresting need.
Anton Waters sucked my clit into his mouth, scraped his tongue over it, and I came.
My hand flailed against my wine, knocking it over, but I barely even noticed. All my determination not to scream flew out the window, but I had the barest shred of self-control left to bury my head in my arms and shriek into the table. My whole body shuddered and stars burst against my eyelids as he suckled on my clit, curling his finger inside me. My legs curled over his shoulders, pulling him to me as I shook with a pleasure so acute it was almost pain. The soft, vague roughness of his tongue pulled my clit further and further into his mouth, and pulled me along with it. I felt as though I might melt where I sat, might fall into his mouth and be devoured, and I wouldn't care.
And he didn't stop, even as I came down from the shuddering heights, dragging moans from my mouth. I felt the eyes of the entire restaurant on me as I came, and the coarse humiliation slid against the pleasure, sharpening it like a whetstone, until it cut like a blade.
Waters retreated, and I felt his absence like a bruise. At last I was able to raise my head. I forced myself to meet my waitress's eyes.
We stared at each other for a long moment. I knew she knew. And she knew that I knew that she knew.
I did the only thing I could think of. I pressed a hand to my mouth and clutched my stomach with the other. “I think... Mr. Waters went to the restroom,” I gasped. “Could you... get him for me?”
Her eyes wide in terror, the waitress nodded frantically and fled the scene of the crime. I didn't dare look around to see who else had noticed me just have the most powerful orgasm of my life.
After a moment, Anton Waters popped up on the other side of the booth, looking cool and unflappable, as though he had just gone to retrieve an errant fork. The only thing that gave him away was the slickness of his lips, wet with my juices, and his green eyes, watching me like a tiger. I met his gaze, still panting, then pulled my skirt down. My thighs rubbed against my pussy, sending aftershocks through my body.
For a long moment, we stared at each other. He glanced down at the contract by his elbow and rescued it just in time from the spreading red wine.
Wordlessly, he pushed it toward me, then held the pen out to me.
“This is your call,” he said. He studied me with eyes hooded by desire.
I hesitated one final time. Then I grabbed the pen in my hand and signed my life away.
*
To be continued in Bartered Fiancee: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 3!
About the Author
Ava Lore was raised by wombats and lives to corrupt the innocent. When she's not writing erotic romance, she spends her time thinking about writing erotic romance and drinking enough iced coffee to kill a musk ox.
Ava Lore at Smashwords.com
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You can email Ava Lore at [email protected]. She yearns for your approval.
Other Titles by Ava Lore
The Billionaire's Wife:
Bartered Proposal: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 1
Her Alien Abductor: Galactic Concubine, Part 1