Typist #2 Spanking the Billionaire Novel(12)

After the fireworks, some of the families with younger kids packed up and went home. The crowd thinned, with many of the teenagers running off to find trouble. With everyone in the park, they had the run of the town, and they knew it.

We stayed right where we were, since we were already in a prime position. The movie would be playing on a screen over the band stage.

The movie was Ghostbusters, which I'd never seen before.

Smith stared at me, his mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock.

“I know of the movie,” I said. “It's just … kinda old.”

Callum grinned at me and said, “His generation thinks eighties movies are the best.”

Cassie asked Smith, “Did you have a Ghostbusters lunch box?”

“Ha ha,” Smith said. “Everybody gang up on the old guy. Don't get me started, or I'll regale you all with my tales of 'When I was a kid.'”

I squeezed his knee. “I'm sure it wasn't that different from today, although the transition to horseless carriages must have been exciting.”

“Ha ha,” he said again. “When I was a kid ...” He paused, as though waiting for someone to stop him, but we didn't. I couldn't speak for the others, but I was genuinely interested. He continued, “When I was a kid, if you wanted to rent a movie, you also rented a VCR to watch it on. They were so expensive, people didn't buy their own, not for the first few years.”

Callum said, “That doesn't seem very convenient.”

“It wasn't, but it made movie night kind of a big deal. You had to plan for it, like an event.” He looked around the dwindling crowd of people in the park. “Not like this, but you get the idea. Now people watch movies on their phones.”

“And read books on their phones,” Cassie said.

“That's right.” He smiled. “The only downside to ebooks is I can't see the cover, so I can't tell if someone in a public place is reading one of mine.”

“Aww,” Cassie said.

“I know.” He pretended to pout.

After a moment, I smacked him on the arm. “Smith Wittingham! You made me feel sorry for you, you scammer! You're a mega bestseller, and I'm sure everybody here in this town owns one or more of your books. Don't make that pouty face. You don't deserve to.”

He laughed and rubbed his hands together like an evil supervillain.

Cassie said to me, “I'm glad you call him on his nonsense.” To Smith, she said, “This one's a keeper. Don't you dare frighten her away.”

Callum said, “And don't mess with her head.”

I held up my hand to stop things before they got embarrassing. “I'm a big girl. I assure you.”

The speakers crackled and squealed with feedback. Some people on the stage ran around, and then one of the balloon-making clowns introduced the movie.

Smith kept looking over at me with his devilish eyes undressing me. I rubbed my legs together in anticipation, then I got an idea.

I excused myself to the washroom and wove my way through the crowd of people on blankets. The portable toilets were a harrowing experience—as those awful things always are—but I emerged with my panties tucked in my purse and a smile on my face.

When I got back to our picnic space, I found that Smith had paid to rent some funny little chairs that were like backrests. Cassie and Callum were seated in their own row, in front of us, and I took a seat next to Smith. He'd also procured some additional blankets, and he draped a shared one across both of our laps.

He took longer than I expected to snake his hand over between my legs—more than five minutes.

His fingers paused on the red triangle of hair between my legs, as though they couldn't believe their good fortune to find I had actually removed my panties.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Smith turn to stare at me, but I kept facing forward. The sky around us was dark, and people were focused on the opening sequence of the movie, but enough light reflected from the screen that we weren't in complete darkness, and I didn't want to broadcast to the people around us that a sexy older man had his index finger on my bare-naked clit.

He mashed against the nub, hot and aching. The sensation felt better than I'd remembered. How could one tiny body part give off so much pleasure?

His digit moved down, pushing between my labia, finding that wetness springing up. He fingered me, then dragged the moisture up, over and over, lingering just long enough on my nub to set the area on fire, then he'd pull away. He shifted closer to me on his chair. I leaned back against my backrest and parted my legs slightly. His finger plunged inside me, which only made me want more.

I glanced around. Was there somewhere private we could run off to, so I could feel his manhood inside me, reaching where his finger couldn't? The portable potties were out of the question, but what about the other side of the building the movie was being—