Every Little Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 2)

She told him this in the way she impatiently moved on his lap, her ass pressing hard on his erection, stroking it with each tiny undulation until he was desperate to sink into her. He held his own needs at bay and slid his fingers down inside her. The angle didn’t provide deep penetration, it was more torment than anything for her, and he made it worse by brushing his lips against her ear. “I wonder if any of them suspect that there’s a man finger-fucking his woman in the back row.”

Bailey whimpered and bit her lip harder, and he rewarded her by moving his thumb to her clit with more pressure this time. The hand still at her waist crept upward and he started to massage her breast, squeezing it the way she liked it, as he continued to stimulate her.

Vaughn’s chest started to pump harder as he felt how soaked she was, how fucking excited she was by this, and he marveled at his good luck to fall in love with a woman so sexually in tune with him.

“Vaughn.” Her soft gasp warned him, as did the tightening of her body. She turned toward him and he pressed her head to his throat, muffling her moan against his skin as she shuddered through her climax.

The man in the row nearest to them turned around and in the light of the screen Vaughn saw the stranger’s suspicion.

“I think we better go,” he whispered, trying not to laugh.

Bailey lifted her head. “Why?”

“We might have been foiled.”

Her eyes widened and she whipped around to stare. She tensed against him. “Oh. Yeah, let’s go.” She reached for her bag and slowly stood up, leaving Vaughn pondering his problem:

The very noticeable erection in his lap.

Bailey frowned at him. “What?” she whispered.

He gestured to his lap.

“Oh. Right.” She giggled, which earned them a “shh” from Mr. Suspicious five rows ahead. “Walk behind me.”

Vaughn rolled his eyes at her suggestion but got up. When she reached for his hand, he muttered, “Princess, you touching me will get in the way of me trying to get rid of this thing.”

“Okay.” Her laughter bubbled in the word.

He ignored it because even her amusement turned him on.

Fuck.

Letting her go ahead, Vaughn attempted to walk behind her, and as he did he tried to think of things to cool him down. Just as the image of Ira Green naked started to work its charm, he lifted his hand to run it through his hair and got a whiff of the smell of Bailey’s sex on his fingers.

“Move.” He put his hands to her hips and started ushering her quickly through the mall.

“Vaughn,” she complained as she stumbled on those far too sexy sandals she was wearing.

“No time to argue.”

He had her back at the car in record timing.

The Aston Martin’s tires squealed against the lot, drawing stares as he blew the hell out of there.

“Are you okay?” Bailey teased.

“Do I look okay?”

“No. You look like you’re about to burst out of those jeans.”

“Yes, well, the plan was to get you off, and then get me off.”

“But we got caught.”

He looked over at her and her eyes were glittering. “You liked that, too.”

The desire that flushed her face did his hard dick no favors. “I liked every part of it. Thank you.” She reached over and slid her hand up his leg. “I loved that surprise.”