“Including yourself.”
“Yes.” The admission came out as a whisper.
“Sit.”
The soft slap of her bare skin meeting leather followed.
“Remember my promise. By the time we walk out of here, everybody in this place is going to know you let a bad-mannered city boy wrinkle your skirt.” He sent his hand under the volumes of skirt covering her lap. Between her legs, he slowly worked his way deeper, using his fingers to simultaneously stroke and penetrate. She bit her lip.
“What will they think?” With his free hand he lifted one of hers from where it lay on the table and twined their fingers together. She tightened her hold, and his chest swelled with something ridiculously close to contentment even as his dick swelled with need. “Will they shake their heads and say you’ve lost your good sense, or will some say they always suspected you had a wild streak under all your straight laces?”
“No. Nobody suspects.”
He seriously doubted that, but right now, to anybody watching, they were two people engrossed in a private conversation. He was the only one close enough to see her heavy eyelids or the perspiration dewing her upper lip.
He worked his finger a little deeper, using slow, circular strokes. A breathy, not-so-muted cry accompanied her exhale.
“Shhh,” he whispered in her ear, letting his lips graze her lobe and coaxing a shiver from her. “Can’t have Miss Bluelick getting kicked out of Rawley’s for indecent behavior.”
She pressed her lips together and lowered her chin to her chest. The move left her looking contrite, but her body tightened around his finger.
“Look at you, sitting there so sweet and innocent. Nobody would guess what a bad girl you’re being right now. You like that, don’t you?”
She didn’t immediately answer—just tightened her hold on his hand in a silent plea for more. “You like it,” he answered for her. “Tell me why.”
“I spent too many years being a good girl. I want…I want…” The words trailed off into a groan when he adjusted the angle of penetration and increased the speed of his thumb over her clit. She bit her lip again to cut off the noise.
“Gets you hot, being surrounded by all these unsuspecting people while I have my hand up your skirt, fucking you mindless with my finger.”
“Yes,” she repeated, but this time the word was barely a whisper. Not a hint of shame though, only pure excitement. The hand clutching his tightened, and he knew she was close.
“Are you going to come for me?”
“Yes.”
“Right here in front of everybody?”
“Oh God. Yes.”
“Don’t scream,” he warned, and bit her earlobe.
“Ooh…I can’t promise—”
“Should I put my tongue in your mouth to keep you quiet?”
“You”—she swallowed and then gasped as he slid a second finger inside her—“you probably should.”
He moved his lips closer to hers and stared into her eyes. “Tell me when.” Her free hand came up to rest against his chest and he knew she’d feel the pounding of his heart against her palm. Her body contracted around his finger.
“Soon. Really, really soo—”
He dropped his head and captured her lips. She surged against him, trembled with the effort of containing the orgasm, and then her cry of pleasure flowed into his mouth. He held her tight until her trembling gradually subsided, and then slowly withdrew from her. Only then did he lift his head.
A laugh burst from her lips—half breathless, half amazed—and she rested her forehead against his. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
She sounded so astounded and exhilarated, he grappled with an urge to pull her into his arms and just…hug her—an impulse he didn’t know what to do with. Luckily he had a whole bunch of other urges he knew exactly what to do with.
“Come on.” He stood and half pulled, half dragged her out of the booth. “You’re looking feverish.”