by Savanna Fox
His fingers reached the top of her stocking and tracked the line of the garter upward across warm skin, smoother and silkier than the stocking. “Don’t let me stop you from eating,” he told her, using the edge of his fork to cut another bite of his mushroom.
“Dax, you aren’t really going to—”
“Stop.” He pinched her thigh, eliciting a startled squeak. “I gave you permission to speak, not to question my actions.”
Her throat rippled as she swallowed.
“Do you want to say your safe word?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “No, Falcon.”
In silence, they both ate, taking occasional sips of wine. His thumb stroked back and forth, back and forth, moving a bit higher now and then. Finally, it brushed hot, damp flesh, the swollen lips of her pussy.
She gasped and her fingers, lifting her wineglass, trembled. She stared into the red liquid intently, but didn’t take a drink. Color bloomed on her cheeks.
The waiter came to clear their appetizer plates, and brought crystal bowls holding grape-sized balls of pale yellow sorbet. “A palate cleanser.” He appeared not to notice anything strange about the way they were sitting. “Champagne and lemongrass sorbet.”
“Thanks,” Dax managed, while Lily kept quiet.
He ate a couple of the balls. Light and tangy, the sorbet melted on his tongue. Too bad he couldn’t pack the rest of the balls inside his pants to cool down his overheated cock. But that gave him an idea.
“Eat your sorbet,” he ordered Lily.
Obediently, she spooned up a ball.
He drew his hand from between her legs, noting the surprised flare of her nostrils. After glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he dragged his fingers through the remaining sorbet in his bowl then lowered his hand again. The brush of his chilled fingers against her hot flesh made her gasp again, and when he thrust a finger inside her, she squeaked.
“Shh,” he warned. “You don’t want to cause a scene.”
“I . . .” She stared at him, blue eyes huge, glittering with shock and arousal. “Oh God.”
She didn’t say “Skookumchuck,” so he pumped his finger slowly back and forth, her steamy flesh clinging to him.
Lily sat motionless but for the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.
“Finish your sorbet.” He eased another finger into her.
She let out the faintest moan, but wielded her spoon.
With his wrist cocked at an awkward angle, he circled both fingers as he pumped in and out, swirling round and round. His palm brushed her clit.
Lily gulped down her sorbet and put down her spoon. She leaned back so her head and shoulders rested against the back of the banquette and her ass and hips were almost at the edge, pressing into his hand. Breathy little pants told him how aroused she was.
The pressure behind his fly begged for release, and he was almost glad to see their waiter heading toward them. He withdrew his hand. “Waiter, incoming.”
She straightened hurriedly, glancing down to make sure the napkin and tablecloth still covered her. She took a deep breath and he heard it sigh out.
When the waiter cleared the sorbet bowls, he said, “How was it?”
“Surprisingly delicious,” Lily said, shooting a sideways glance at Dax. “But over too soon.”
Dax stifled a chuckle as the waiter replied, “I hear that a lot. I’ll be back with your entrees.”
When the other man departed, Dax lifted the hand that had been inside Lily and raised it to his mouth. He inhaled her heady scent then licked his fingers to taste her tangy juices.
Watching him, she let out another of those tiny moans.
“Over too soon?” he said. “It was only an appetizer. The main course is yet to come.”
“When? How?” Remembering, she added, “Falcon.”
“Don’t question me. Trust me to look after you.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Tell me you don’t find this sexy,” he challenged her.
“It is, but I’m all worked up and I don’t know what we’re going to do about it,” she complained.
“We’re going to eat dinner, and you’re going to keep wondering exactly when and how I’m going to look after you.”
A grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Okay, I admit that’s titillat—” She swallowed the last syllable as the waiter hurried over with their dinner plates.
Both meals looked delicious and Dax dug into his, glad to let the arousal level in his body drop a few degrees. The lamb was tender and succulent, flavored with rosemary, pepper, and garlic. The small roasted potatoes, baby asparagus, and golden beets were delicious too. “How’s your duck?”
“Scrumptious.” She cut a slice and offered it to him on her fork.
He tasted it, said, “That is good,” then offered her a bite of lamb. When she took it into her mouth and closed her lips, he ran his thumb caressingly over her top lip, then her bottom one.
Studying his face, she chewed and swallowed. “Dax, I can’t believe what you did. I can’t believe I let you. This doesn’t feel like me tonight.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Not yet.” Mischief gleamed in her eyes. “I’m waiting to see if the main course measures up to the appetizer.”
“I told you, you need to trust me.”
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Dax always ate more quickly, and by the time he’d almost finished, she was only halfway through. With a few bites remaining on his plate, he dropped his left hand to her napkin-covered thigh. “Slide forward again.”
“Now?”
He gave her his best dom stare. “You’re questioning me?”
“I . . . guess not,” she said uncertainly, and slipped forward to the front of the bench.
His hand found its way under the napkin and between her thighs, all the way to the top. Her arousal would have cooled, as had his own. So he teased her with slow, gentle strokes across her pussy, but didn’t enter her yet. “Keep eating. I know you can multitask.”
She gave a surprised chuckle. Color blooming on her cheeks, she picked up her knife and fork and cut into the duck breast.
He kept caressing her as he finished his own meal. When she was damp and swollen with need, he slid two fingers into her, pumping and circling the way he had before. Her body gripped him; her breath quickened. His own body tightened, his cock springing to attention again.
Much as he’d like to prolong this, each moment heightened the risk of discovery. He knew how to make Lily come quickly, and he used that knowledge. Gently, he tapped the sweet spot hidden deep inside her, and with his thumb he rubbed her clit. Two magic buttons. He alternated pressure from one to the other, all the time stroking his fingers in and out.
With fumbling fingers she put down her knife and fork and gripped the edge of the table with both hands, reclining back and closing her eyes. “Dax,” she whispered. “Oh Dax.”
“Shh, sweetheart.” He glanced around the restaurant. The other diners were occupied with their own meals and conversations. Their waiter chatted with a group of ten or so at a table near the Christmas tree.
A tiny whimper escaped Lily’s lips.
He increased speed and pressure—tapping clit, sweet spot, clit in a quick rhythm.
Her body tensed, froze, then she came apart against his hand. While she pulsed and shuddered around him, her upper body was rigid, braced by her hands against the table. Her cheeks were bright pink, shallow breaths rasped in and out of her open mouth, and her eyes squeezed shut as if that would somehow guarantee her privacy.
She was beautiful. So beautiful. And gutsy, to opt into this sex play.
He wanted her. Now. His body was ready to explode with it. He leaned close to her ear. “I want to fuck you.”
Twenty-four
Lily’s whole body jerked at her husband’s blunt words, her vagina clenching around his fingers. Slowly, she opened her eyes and gazed at Dax. His gray eyes glittered silver in the can
dlelight and dusky color bloomed on his cheekbones.
She couldn’t believe what they’d done, yet she wanted more. “Yes,” she murmured. “But how?”
Slowly, he eased his fingers out of her and dried them on his napkin.
Her body felt empty without him. As reality sank in, she glanced nervously around the restaurant. Had anyone seen them? No one seemed to be paying attention.
Dax took a long swallow of wine. “You’ll go—”
“The waiter,” she warned, seeing the man heading across the room toward them.
He took Dax’s empty plate and glanced at Lily.
“I’m finished too.” Her voice came out husky. “It was wonderful, but I’m saving room for dessert.” Much as she loved chocolate soufflé, the dessert she really craved was sex with Dax.
“Would you like me to bring that now?” the waiter asked. “And perhaps some coffee?”
“No,” Dax said abruptly. Then he added, “Thanks, but we’ll finish the wine first.”
“Take your time.” The waiter poured the last of the pinot noir into their glasses.
When he’d gone, Dax said, “You go to the ladies’ room. I’ll be in the hall outside. When it’s empty, let me in.”
Sex in the ladies’ room? She’d always thought the idea was tacky, but . . . She pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. “This is what I get for wanting a bad boy.”
“It’s what you get for being a dirty girl.” He slid out of the booth and jammed a fist into one pocket.
Her gaze focused on his fly. Even the distended pocket couldn’t entirely camouflage his erection.
Dax moved around the table and, as Lily came to her feet and collected her purse, he offered her his arm. Gratefully, she took it. She rarely wore high heels and her legs were wobbly after that orgasm.
He smiled and bent to drop a quick kiss on her lips.
She smiled back. “Here goes.” Straightening her spine, she started across the restaurant.
Dax put a hand at her waist, walking slightly behind and to her side. Her fullish skirt would help conceal his aroused state.
Glancing at the other diners, she was relieved that they were having too good a time to pay attention to her and Dax. His hand burned through the silk of her dress. It branded her, compelled her. Aroused her. In charged silence, she and her husband headed down the hallway she’d walked on her own earlier. Lily opened the door to the ladies’ room and went in. A young redhead in a black cocktail dress was touching up her lipstick at the sink. They exchanged greetings, and Lily opened her own purse and took out her comb.
When the redhead left, Lily quickly checked the three stalls and saw VACANT signs on each door. She opened the restroom door. “All clear.”
Dax whipped through the door, glanced around, and then tugged her toward the stall farthest from the door. The cubicle was tiny, with a toilet and barely enough room for the two of them to stand, but it was clean and elegant. If they were going to do this, at least it was in a marble toilet stall.
She’d barely put her purse on top of the toilet paper container when Dax pulled her into his arms. Eagerly, she wrapped her arms around him and met his kiss. Oh yes, this was her favorite dessert. She rubbed her needy body shamelessly against the bulge behind his fly.
He groaned. “Christ, I want you.” He broke the kiss to reach for his belt. Hands fumbling with urgency, he unbuckled, unbuttoned, struggled to force the zipper over his erection. He shoved his pants and underwear down, groaning when his rigid cock sprang free, the head beaded with pre-come.
Such a tantalizing sight. Her hands reached out to circle his shaft.
He jerked in her hand. “No, crap.” He grabbed her hands, forced them away. “I’m going to fucking explode.”
“We could do it that way,” she offered. “With my hands. Or—”
“Inside you. I need to be inside you.”
And that was exactly what she wanted. She dropped her hands to the sides of her skirt. “While I wear these?” She raised the hem, revealing the tops of her stockings, the garters, and then her own nakedness framed by the lacy champagne-colored garter belt.
“You are so damned hot.” The words ground out of him.
Bracing his back against the stall door, he caught her by the waist and lifted her. When she looped her arms around his shoulders, he rotated so her back pressed against the locked door. She hooked her stocking-clad legs around his hips and he held her, one hand under her butt, one around her shoulders.
His cock brushed her thigh, she shifted a little, and now the crown nudged her damp pussy, desperately seeking entrance. “Fuck, I need to get in.”
She gave another wriggle and he slid into her. “Yes,” she breathed, close to his ear.
He thrust compulsively, and her body, still sensitive from orgasm, responded quickly. She guessed this would be quick and raw, which was fine by her. But she didn’t want to get left behind, so she shifted to ensure he brushed her clit each time he plunged into her.
Oh yes, that angle was perfect. Arousal escalated, making her bury a whimper in his black hair.
A door opened. The door to the ladies’ room. Two female voices were in mid-conversation about the merits of chocolate soufflé versus Grand Marnier crème brûlée.
Dax froze and so did Lily, clinging tight to him.
Heels clicked across the floor and, still talking, the women entered the two vacant stalls.
“Can’t do this.” Dax’s voice was only the breath of a whisper. “Can’t think of a damn technical spec.”
Technical spec? Had she misheard?
“Fuck,” he muttered. His hips jerked and he drove into her, hard and fast, back and forth.
The movement, so fierce and strong, almost made her cry out with pleasure. She was dimly aware of the two women peeing, still chatting with each other. She pressed down, grinding against Dax, increasing the delicious friction.
His climax poured into her in pulsing, irresistible waves that took her up, up, and over the top.
As she spasmed around him, a toilet flushed, maybe loud enough to cover his groan and the whimper of release she couldn’t hold back. The second toilet flushed. Both stall doors opened and the women resumed their conversation, giving no sign they were aware of Lily and Dax.
Trembling, she clung to him as their bodies throbbed together with the aftershocks. Water ran, a purse clasp snapped open, something clattered against the counter.
Dax eased out of her and slowly let her down. She tried not to let her shoes click against the tile floor. Panting, she leaned her forehead against his chest and breathed a silent “Wow.” Her parents would be shocked beyond belief, but the book club members would definitely approve.
Finally, the door opened and closed, and the room was silent.
“Oh, man,” he said quietly.
“Definitely.” She remembered something. “Did you say ‘technical spec’?”
He nodded, humor in his eyes. “If I recite helicopter technical specifications in my head, it distracts me from needing to come. But I couldn’t even remember a type of helicopter, much less its specs.” He put himself back together.
So easy for a man. Lily wanted one of the soft towels on the counter. A warm, damp towel. And then her thong. She reached into Dax’s pants pocket for it, and stuffed it in her purse.
He raised his eyebrows but said only, “Go check the hall. See if the coast is clear.”
She scooted out of the stall and peeked out the door to the hallway. “Yes. Go now. I’ll meet you back at the table.”
“Okay.” He strode across the restroom floor and paused at the door. “You’re something, Lily Nyland.”
“You too. Now go!”
When he was gone, she held a towel under the hot water tap then went back into the stall to clean up. Once she’d washed and put her thong back on, she returned to the sink to splash cold water on her burning cheeks, comb her hair, and apply fresh lip gloss. Even neatened up, to her mind she still looked like a w
oman who’d been well fucked.
The book club novel popped into her mind. Dax hadn’t taken her to a BDSM club; they’d gone to an elegant restaurant. He hadn’t given her to other men to fuck—or whatever it was that Neville intended to do with Cassandra—but he’d made Lily do things she’d never believed she would do.
Except, of course, he hadn’t made her do anything, no more than Neville made Cassandra do things. Neville was helping Cassandra determine whether she was truly a submissive. And Dax was encouraging Lily to push her bounds. When he restrained her, he in fact liberated her, sexually. When he commanded her, he absolved her of responsibility so she could let loose.
Because of him she was learning things about herself. She wasn’t just her parents’ well-mannered, conventional daughter. She was brave enough to take risks, and she could go a little crazy. Especially if she had Dax to both incite and protect her.
Staring at her own reflection, Lily barely noticed the restroom door open and an older woman enter and go into a stall.
Dax . . . She’d once loved him so much. Over the past couple of years she had questioned whether that love still existed. She’d pushed her emotions away, buried them; she’d rationalized rather than letting herself feel. All because she was afraid. Afraid he no longer loved her, that he’d break her heart if she let him. She hadn’t been honest with herself; she’d erected defenses; she’d lived in fear. No wonder she was so stressed, suffered from headaches, couldn’t focus clearly and make decisions in any aspect of her life.
Now things had changed. Their lovemaking was fresh, challenging, exciting. They were exploring their bodies, their bounds, their sexual connection in new and very adult ways. Their conversations were different too, and more adult, going deeper and venturing into topics they used to avoid.
She was coming to know the old Dax and the new one, and the end result was . . . she found him compelling. He’d grown more handsome and sexy with age; he flew into storms to rescue people; he did romantic things like fly her to Whistler; he was more willing to open up to her. He was amazing.
How could she not love this man?
“Excuse me, but are you all right?” a diffident voice asked.