The Private Serials Box Set(32)

My body was starting to betray me: my pulse was thrumming through my  veins, my skin flushing with excitement, my sex becoming slicker with  every second his hand begged for entrance. My body wanted what he was  offering, of that there was no doubt, but the rational part of my brain  was still in control  –  mostly.

I exhaled a breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding and my shoulders  sagged when I felt his thumb making soft and slow circles on my  sensitive skin just under the hem of my dress, silently asking me to do  as he wanted, to let him in.

When I finally relented, gave in to him, a whimper escaped my lips as my  knees fell apart. My muscles rejoiced as the stinging stopped, but new,  more powerful sensations were flooding my system with every inch he  gained up my thigh. His skin grazing along mine tickled in the most  arousing way, prickled with the promise of pleasure, and the  anticipation was nearly a physical being sitting at the table with us,  it was that powerful.

I finally became brave enough to lift my gaze to him, only to find he  was paying no attention to me above the table. He had no interest in  conversation anymore or even to glance my way. The farther up my leg his  hand roamed, the quicker my breaths came and the faster my heart  thundered in my chest. I reached for my water glass, pausing at my lips  as one of his fingers lightly grazed the length of my sex. Just barely  and just enough for my eyes to flutter closed.

They immediately snapped open when I heard the waiter ask Preston if  everything was fine with our meal. Simultaneously, Preston slid one  finger inside me while answering the waiter with a, "Yes, everything is  fantastic. Thank you."

I was paralyzed with the fear we would be caught, but also frozen from  the thrill of feeling him inside me, feeling something very private in  this very public place.

The waiter smiled and walked away, leaving us to presumably enjoy our  dinner. I looked at Preston and he picked up his fork and continued to  eat his pasta, his finger still pressed fully inside me.

He swallowed and then said, "Your food is getting cold, sweetheart."

"You want me to eat while you finger me?"

"No, I want to give you an experience you've never had before. I want to  watch you writhe and squirm and sweat, all the while fearing someone  will catch us." He moved his finger out, but then pumped back in again,  this time with two. My hand slapped down on the table, palm open, making  an obnoxiously loud "thwack". A few people turned their heads toward  us, but turned away when they saw nothing of consequence.

"Preston, please," I said quietly as his fingers retreated again, this time coming forward and circling my clit.

"Tell me what you want, Lena."

His question was tied together with so many layers of meaning I was lost  between them. Did I want him to stop finger fucking me in public?  Maybe? Did I want to be with him in the way he was asking? Probably. Did  I want to take the plunge to make these things happen? No. Not right  now.

"You can't do it," he whispered as his fingers dove back into me, this  time pumping back and forth in tight, swift blows. "Until you're  absolutely sure what you want, I'm going to take what I need from you."  He leaned toward me, pressing a kiss to my cheek, and from anyone else's  perspective in the restaurant I'm sure it looked innocent enough, but  then his mouth moved to my ear and he whispered, "I'll do whatever you  want, Lena. You just have to let me know."

With that, his fingers reprised their slow thrusts while the heel of his  palm began a firm, circular grind against my clit. I was thoroughly wet  and only getting wetter. If I listened closely enough, I could hear the  sounds our bodies were making from rubbing against each other and even  though I knew, soon enough, others might start to hear, I couldn't bring  myself to care.

I started to daze, one hand gripping the arm of my chair, the other  wrapped around my water glass as if I were about to lift it to my mouth.  In and out. Around and around. He was slowly building me toward an  orgasm that would surely have me screaming the roof off this high-brow,  classy restaurant.

In an effort to control myself, I lifted the water glass to my lips and  sipped the water slowly. Preston shifted, his fingers sliding in even  farther, then he curled his fingers, hitting an elusive bundle of nerves  head-on, causing me to moan into my water.

I clamped my legs closed, trying to stave him off, trying to stop what I  knew was inevitably unstoppable. Even with my knees locked together he  still managed to continue to finger me at the dinner table. My clamped  legs seemed to actually just keep his hand right where he wanted it. My  life was compounding at that very moment. Everything was colliding and I  had no control. The only thing I could do was let Preston lead me.  Trust him to show me the right way.

In an instant, I put the water glass down, grabbed the cloth napkin from  my lap, and tried as gracefully and inconspicuously as I could to groan  into it.

I came ridiculously hard and surprisingly quietly. With my release came  the relaxation which freed Preston's hand from my pussy just long enough  for him to lift his hand and suck his fingers into his mouth, never  breaking his gaze from mine. Even coming down from a shattering orgasm,  even just after coming in a room full of strangers, I was still  ridiculously turned on by his blatant sexuality, and would have climbed  on top of him had we been in a different setting.

We didn't say another word to each other until we left the building. The  longer we sat at the table, him ignoring what had just happened, the  longer my emotions had to advance from being sated, to confused, to full  of rage.

He held my coat up for me and I shoved my arms through the sleeves  violently, then I took loud and hard steps through the restaurant, my  heels clacking along the tile floor, until we were out on the street and  I was walking at a fast clip.

"Hey, Lena, wait." He sounded like every other man I'd ever heard try to  deal with an angry woman; like frustration mixed with fear. He didn't  know how to handle me angry.

"Wait for what, exactly?" I shouted back to him.

"Wait for me. Look," he said, jogging up next to me. His hand wrapped  around my arm, stopping me, and he turned my body to face him. "I'm  sorry."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No, you're not."

"Well, not one hundred percent, no … " His voice trailed off and I yanked my arm free.

"Ugh. Just take me home, Preston," I said as I continued to march down  the street. He caught up, keeping pace with me but not reaching out to  touch me.

"You're not going back to your house, Lena."

I sighed loudly, realizing even though he thought I meant I wanted to go  back to the house I shared with Derrek, I'd really meant his condo. It  figured that when I was really angry with him I'd have a Freudian slip.

"Fine, we'll go to your house, but you're sleeping on the couch." I  turned the corner and entered the parking garage where he'd parked his  Lotus. I made it to the elevator and the doors opened for us  immediately. Once inside we stood at opposite ends of the car and while I  maintained my best angry face, when I stole glances at him, he still  looked confused and a little distraught.

The elevator doors opened and I walked out, heading right for the Lotus.

"What is it you're angry about, exactly? It seemed like you enjoyed  yourself in there." He yelled across the parking structure, his voice  echoing throughout.         

     



 

"Enjoyed myself?" I turned on him, my dress flaring up around my knees, hair fanning out.

"You came hard, sweetheart," he said with a smug grin.

"Don't ‘sweetheart' me, Preston. You did that to me even though you knew I didn't want you to."

Suddenly, he was right in front of me, pressing my back against his car, his front pressing into mine.

"You can be angry at me any day, Lena. You can throw your cute as fuck  tantrums and stomp around, throwing your sass around like it weighs a  ton, but don't ever insinuate that I forced you to do something you  weren't onboard with."

"I was uncomfortable," I managed, even though I was sure my voice was too small to be heard.

"Good. You've been comfortable for far too long, from what I can tell. I  wanted to make you uncomfortable, I wanted to show you that sometimes  it's okay to trust me." As his words fell from his mouth, his eyes  softened, as did his grip on my waist. One hand came to cup my cheek and  his gentleness caught me off guard. "I would have stopped if you'd told  me, if you'd even said anything remotely close to no. But you enjoyed  it and that's okay, Lena. In fact, it was amazing. Watching you fall  apart, knowing no one else in that room knew what I was doing to you. It  was hotter than fucking anything I've ever seen before." His thumb  moved back and forth over my cheekbone, his tenderness melting the  residual anger I felt just moments before. "Are you upset because it  happened, or are you upset because it felt good to let me be in  control?" His face came close and his forehead rested against mine,  waiting for me to respond.