"Definitely."
Gaige walks around to the passenger side of his car to open the door for me, but pauses with his hand on the handle. He spins me around and pushes me roughly up against the side of the car, running his palm down waist and over my hips. "I want to fuck you right here, right now," he says, his tongue flicking over the sensitive place just below my earlobe.
"In the middle of the parking lot of the restaurant?" I murmur. "That's not a way for us to stay out of the tabloids." A few days ago, my father's PR person issued a statement about me and Gaige's relationship, clarifying for the public at large that we had my father's support and that since we weren't actually related and hadn't even grown up together, it was basically a non-issue. It made a few more tabloids, and a few people stood outside of Marlowe Oil with signs protesting the fact that an "incest-loving" CEO was running the company, but that was pretty much the extent of it. Still, my father's expressed words were, "Please don't do anything that would cause public scandal for the next few weeks, at least, so I don't end up in an early grave."
And Gaige's hands all over me in the middle of this parking lot where anyone could catch us certainly counts like it would count as causing potential public scandal.
Gaige groans as he steps away from me and opens the car door. "I won't touch you here," he says. "But this is what's going to happen. I'm going to put you in this car, and on the way home I'm going to make you come on my fingers. Then you're going to walk that pretty little ass down to the guesthouse and we're going to finish what never got started in Tokyo. You're going to drop to your knees before the door even closes, and suck me until I come in that pretty little mouth of yours."
"And then what?" My heart races, and the throbbing between my legs is already insistent.
He gestures toward the car. "Sit down, darlin'," he orders. "I'll tell you on the way home."
Gaige pulls out of the parking lot, but doesn't even wait a moment until he gets started. "Pull that skirt up over your thighs," he orders.
I raise my eyebrows. "We're in the middle of town and someone will see what I'm doing," I say. "Scandal, much?"
"Up your thighs, not over your ass," he says. "And unbutton your shirt lower. You look way too professional and I want to be able to see those perky tits of yours."
I unbutton the top two buttons slowly as Gaige weaves in and out of traffic. "One more," he says, and I comply, feeling incredibly exposed. My nipples are already hard against the fabric of my lacy bra, and the dampness between my legs is distracting.
"Are you wet?" he asks.
"Yes." My voice is breathy. "What do you want me to do?"
"Let me turn off the highway," he says. He's taking the long way back to my father's house, down windy roads and away from prying eyes. I relax against the seat as his speed decreases. Reaching over to me, his hand slides up my thigh until his fingertips touch the crease at the top of my leg. I pull my skirt up higher, over my ass until my skin is bare against the leather seat. "You got over that not-pulling-up-your-skirt thing fast enough," he says.
"Touch me," I tell him, and he reaches between my legs, moaning when he feels how wet I am already. Then he takes his fingers away and puts them back on the steering wheel.
"Touch yourself," he orders, and I touch my fingers tentatively to my pussy, sliding them over my clit, already slick with my wetness. "Spread your legs."
I do what he says, rolling my fingers over my clit as he winds along the road back home. I close my eyes as arousal rushes through my body. "Unbutton your shirt," he says, his voice catching, and I glance over to see him looking at me and then back at the road. I slide my hand between his legs, feeling his hardness. "Not me. I want you to make yourself come. You're going to have my cock in your mouth soon enough."
The words send a rush of wetness between my legs, and I hear myself moan.
"You liked that?" he asks. "Good. I want to see your breasts. Slip your bra down and touch your nipples."
Sliding the fabric of my bra cups lower, I rub my thumb over my already erect nipples, one and then the other, before I can't take it anymore and have to return my fingers between my legs. "Good," he says. "That's it. Touch that perfect pussy of yours. Slide your fingers inside."
He pauses while I slip two fingers inside me, pressing my palm hard against my clit as I stroke myself.
"Talk to me," I beg. "Tell me what you're going to do to me."
"I'm going to slap that curvy ass of yours with each step you take back to the guest house," he says. "Then I'm going to open the door, and before the door shuts, I want you on your knees, do you understand?"