For Her Protection(43)

“Feed me some steak.” His eyes glittered and he wiped the fingers of his free hand on a napkin.

Feed him?

She realized he couldn’t cut his own food. But still, even with his hand on her pussy, bringing her to pleasure in the middle of a restaurant, the idea of feeding him brought heat to her cheeks. Intimate, romantic, domestic. Submissive. More frightening than coming in public.

She cut off a large piece of steak and swirled it in the sauce then swiveled the fork toward his lips. The moment she turned, the moment her hips shifted she realized his ploy. His hand sank deeper, pushed thick fingers straight into the entrance that opened to him.

Her hand dipped, almost depositing the fork into his lap. Her vision hazed and she forced herself to think past the sensation of his movements inside her—the palm pressed hard against her clitoris. She brought the fork to his mouth and he opened, then closed his lips over the tines and drew the meat off slowly. He chewed, his gaze flickering over her face.

“It is good.”

“Can I get you anything to drink?” A voice intruded.

Charlize jumped but couldn’t meet the waitress’ gaze. She knew the other woman couldn’t see, knew anyone looking would just see a woman feeding her boyfriend. But Conner’s movements didn’t stop. They grew more controlled, more deliberate as he ordered two glasses of champagne.

The waitress left and Charlize dropped her hands to the table. He withdrew from her entrance and pumped firmly over her swollen clit. Her nails curled into the tablecloth. Her body tensed, muscle by muscle. Fine motor skills, the kind required to cut, lift, direct movement were long past gone.

“Look at me.”

Her body obeyed and she gazed at him without focus. He rubbed harder and faster. She twitched, orgasm rising through her nerves, cresting along her senses. He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her. Not the tongue-deep kiss she wanted but something for public. Hot enough and close enough to swallow the sound she made as she convulsed internally. Excruciating bliss pulsed out from her core, radiated into her muscles, into her bones until it felt as if she’d turned to liquid.

She slumped against him and his lips left hers. The hand in her panties withdrew and his arm surrounded her again. Her breathing regulated, although her cheeks still burned.

“Champagne?” the waitress asked.

Charlize looked around the room as Connor accepted the drinks. No one glanced their way, no one had noticed. He handed her a tall glass of sparkling gold liquid.

“Cheers,” he said and clinked his glass against hers.

Cheers indeed…

She lifted her glass and drank deeply. Connor’s still full and cooling plate of food remained untouched. Perhaps feeding him wouldn’t be such a big deal after all?

They’d done far more intimate things today, hadn’t they?

She picked up the fork she’d dropped and filled it then turned to Connor. “Here,” she whispered.

Connor’s eyes flared for a moment but he ate the food she offered him.

She watched him chew. The slow movements of his jaw. As she filled the fork again another kind of longing rose in her—one she didn’t care to admit.

We could look after each other.





Chapter Twelve




A fucking perfect Sunday morning. Connor leaned in the doorway of Charlize’s en-suite bathroom. She stood at her basin, wearing a black bra and panties, dragging a brush through the even blacker waves rippling almost to her elbows. He took advantage of the view—his gaze travelled over her smooth calves, luscious thighs, the round underside of her ass-cheeks peeking out from her underwear. He shifted, blood flowing to the exhausted length of his cock.

You’d think it’d be worn out by now. After the workout he’d put it through that morning—his dick should’ve been fucking sated. But no…one look was all it took. There was a chemical reaction between them. Something instinctive. Something his body recognized the moment he’d clamped eyes on her. Primitive sexual recognition in his DNA telling him he’d found his match.

Her gaze caught his in the mirror and her movements slowed. A sheepish smile pressed her lips to the side. Her cheeks glowed pink. How could she blush after everything she’d let him do to her—or maybe the blush was because of what she’d let him do…

She picked up a hair-tie and slipped it around her wrist then scooped her hair to the back of her head. He moved toward her and ran his palms down the stretch of bare skin at her sides her raised arms exposed. Her clear laugh filled the bathroom and she leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her middle and brushed his lips across the fragrant skin on her shoulder. She dropped her hands and placed them over his where they rested on her belly. Soft waves of hair tumbled down and brushed his cheek.