Battleship (Anchored 2)

“Anything.”

“Have you ever come in a public place?”

“Never.”

“Would you like to?”

“Right now?”

“Right here.”

I should tell him no.

It’s not proper. It’s not right. What we’re doing is totally wrong, totally dirty, but I want it. I crave it. I need it. Suddenly, what I want most in the entire world right now is to come against his hand.

The word “yes” crosses my lips before I realize what’s happening, and Thorn slips his fingers under my panties and inside of me. He fills me, and I start to groan, but he silences me with a kiss and starts slipping his fingers in and out of me.

Closer.

Closer.

Closer.

And then I come.

He kisses me as I shudder, keeps pumping his fingers in and out of me until he’s pulled every ounce of pleasure from my body, and then he slowly takes his hand away, straightens my skirt, and places his hand demurely on my thigh.

“How was that, beautiful girl?”

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“Wow.”

“Wow indeed,” a voice from behind the bar catches my attention and I turn to see June standing there with a smirk on her face.

Apparently, we had an audience.

“June,” Master Thorn says, running a hand through his hair. “I…”

She holds up a hand. “I didn’t see anything,” she says. “And it’s a good thing, too, because you know the owner takes a personal interest in making sure people follow the rules.”

“I’m well aware of the owner’s stance on following protocol,” Thorn says, and that seems to satisfy June because she winks and turns around to make another drink.

I grab my whiskey and sip it. The liquor burns, but it’s a good pain.

I sip a little more.

“This is the part where we usually talk.”

I look sideways at Thorn. He’s watching me intently. His eyes are dark and he has a nice jaw line. He’s the kind of guy girls go crazy for, the kind of guy women lose their mind over.

He’s tall, and he’s fit. Even with the suit he’s wearing, I can tell he fills it out. This is a guy who works out, a guy who is used to getting what he wants. This is a guy who knows how to get what he wants.

And now he wants to talk.

With me.

Despite the fact that he just had his fingers inside my vagina, words somehow escape me. Somehow, talking seems more personal than what we just did. When he was touching me, I could close my eyes and just feel. I could just enjoy what he was doing to me and I didn’t have to over-think it, but now he’s asking me to talk.