Steven unbuttoned his suit jacket. My panties grew immediately wet. I grabbed the hem of my dress and started pulling it up.
Then his phone rang. He groaned and pulled it out of his pocket. "Shit, I have to get this," he said. "Work."
"That's fine," I said, still working my dress up over my hips. Steven watched me as he answered the call. I spread my legs, showing him my lacy black panties, and pulled them to the side.
He watched, transfixed, as he spoke huskily into his phone.
I sat like that for ten minutes before I closed my legs and pulled my dress back down. Steven mouthed that he was sorry several times. I understood. Work had to come first-especially with where things were for him business wise. He had bigger priorities than fucking me in the back seat of a limo.
Which was unfortunate, because I was horny as hell and now had to endure the cocktail party with a soaking wet pussy.
Steven hung up the phone when we were around the corner from his parents' house. "I'm sorry," he said. "There's always the drive home. It gives us something to look forward to."
I smiled as the limo parked. "Definitely."
The party was as I remembered it being. The house was an old Victorian style home with three living rooms and a massive dining room. The hall was set up to cater to the night's event, decorated with candelabras filled with burning white pillar candles and set with silver platters of appetizers and desserts. Steven's mother had hired caterers who spent their time wandering among the guests with trays of wine, champagne, and the cocktail of the evening, which was a pink bubbly concoction.
Steven's mother pulled me in for a hug when she saw me. I squeezed her back, and we pulled apart smiling at each other.
"It's so nice to see you, Mrs. Marx," I said. "I'm so happy I could come tonight."
"Oh, likewise sweetheart. You look stunning, as always. And Steven," she said, looking her son up and down, "handsome as ever." They hugged, and she patted his cheek the same way she used to when he was seventeen.
Steven gave me a crooked look, and I laughed. Then he offered me his arm, and the two of us began making our rounds throughout the party.
When we arrived in the dining room, my stomach leaped into my throat. Andrew was there, in the corner, chatting with a tall, slender blonde woman with red lips. He spotted us and waved, then excused himself from his conversation. My heart fluttered in my chest at his approach.
When he was in front of us, he slapped Steven on the shoulder. "I'm happy to see you," he said. "And even happier to see the company you've brought with you. I'm glad you are both on speaking terms again."
Steven shrugged and glanced at me. "Three months was a long time not to talk to my best friend."
I smiled and tightened my grip on his forearm. "It was the worst. How are you, Andrew? It's been a while."
"Indeed, it has," he said with a nod. His hair was lighter than Steven's and much unrulier. Tonight, he had tamed it with a lot of product. It stood tall on his head, making him appear to be the taller brother-which I knew he was not. Steven had always been taller. Andrew was dressed in a black suit with a gray shirt underneath. His tie was thin and ironed. He looked good, as usual, but he paled in comparison to his younger brother.
A server went by us and Andrew plucked a glass of red wine from the tray. "Things have been good. Keeping busy with work, and what not. What about the two of you? How are things going with the app production, Steven?"
I listened tentatively while the Marx brothers caught up. I wondered how long it had been since they had spoken. Maybe Steven had kept his word and shunned Andrew for as long as he had avoided me. This made me feel guilty. I felt like I had driven a wedge between them.
Nothing seemed to be bothering either of them, though. Steven chatted happily about his work, and Andrew asked him dozens of questions. They laughed and joked like they always used to, and even made plans to go out for drinks the following week to catch up without the constant interruption of people milling around the party hoping to get a word in with the Marx brothers.
Andrew and I were the same as we always had been. Conversation was easy. There was no flirting. There was no tension. I hoped Steven was able to see how normal things were between us. There had never been anything there in the first place.
By chatting with Andrew tonight, I hoped I was able to prove to Steven that he was the one I cared about. He had always been the one.
Chapter 23
Steven
I held Allie's coat out for her at the end of the evening and helped her slide into it. I stood beside her as she buttoned it up, then the two of us hugged my mother and father and thanked them for having us. Andrew was there with a glass of wine in one hand. He held out his other hand for me to shake.
"I'll call you later, and we'll figure out when to meet next week," Andrew said.
"Sounds good. Talk soon."
Andrew then turned to Allie. She stepped forward and gave him a hug, as per their usual farewells. It wasn't flirty. It wasn't inappropriate. In fact, it was the exact same way I hugged Melissa whenever I saw her.
When the front door closed behind us, I wrapped one arm around Allie's waist. We made our way down the path to the limo which was waiting for us. The driver asked us how our evening went when he opened the back door for us. Allie told him it was wonderful and thanked him, and then we both slid inside.
Allie made her way up the bench seat on the side and kicked off her heels. She crossed one leg over her knee and began massaging her foot. "I always forget how much I hate wearing heels," she muttered. "Especially on nights where you barely sit down. It's a torture."
I laughed and shook my head at her. "Then stop wearing them."
"But they look so good," she whined.
"You look good in or out of heels," I said. "And torture isn't high heels. Torture is being around you when you look so damn fine and not being able to touch you how I want to."
Allie shot me a devious look and put her foot back down. "Is that so?"
"Yeah, it is," I said, looking to rekindle the beginnings of the romp we almost had in the limo on the way to the party.
I needed the distraction. Although I was feeling good about how Allie and Andrew interacted at the party, my mind was still whispering about being betrayed. Getting Allie's skirt up and playing with her sweet little pussy would be enough to put those thoughts to bed. If not permanently, at least for the rest of the night.
"How do you want to touch me?" Allie asked.
I looked her over from head to toe. "Can I show you?"
"Please," she whispered.
Her soft voice was an invitation. I inched closer to her on the seat. She remained where she was. I rested one hand on her knee and then began inching it slowly upward, under the hem of her dress, and higher until my fingertips grazed those black lace panties that had made my mind spin when I saw them earlier. I pushed them aside the way she had on the drive over.
She was so wet.
"Have you been thinking about this all night?" I whispered in her ear.
She nodded and swallowed.
I chuckled and nibbled her earlobe. I kissed her neck and her jaw while running my fingers up and down the length of her slit. She was tense beneath my touch. She had been waiting for this for hours. So had I.
I didn't want to wait any longer. Her soft folds beneath my fingertips were too tempting. I pushed two fingers into her. She was swollen and ready, and she was tight around me. I fingered her hard, my knuckles hitting the insides of her thighs.
She rested her head back on the seat and moaned softly. I covered her mouth with my other hand. The driver didn't need to hear her. Those sounds were reserved for me and me only. I fingered her harder until her hips were lifting off the seat. It was as if she was encouraging me to somehow get deeper into her tight little pussy.
I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. So I switched tactics and curled my fingers inside her, rubbing the patch I knew was her G-spot. Her muffled cry beneath my palm promised that an orgasm wasn't far away.
She bucked beneath me, jerking away from my fingers as she came. I followed her retreat, keeping my fingertips pressed up against her sweet spot and letting her writhe in my grasp. Her moan became a higher pitched wail. I stuck a finger between her lips and teeth and pressed down on her tongue. She fell silent and sucked my thumb, her eyes falling closed as I worked her over harder. I wanted her to come again. It wound me up when I felt the tightness around my fingers. I wanted to spill her juices on the seat.
I moved my fingers harder, pulling them in and out but aiming for that same spot. Allie twisted, and her teeth bit down on the base of my thumb. I didn't care. I fucked her harder. She grabbed my shirt.