His gaze clouds with suspicion. “What are you doing?”
I make my way to him and the trek feels a lot further than a handful of steps. Possibly because I am intoxicated, from either the champagne or Tristano. It’s hard to discern when my blood rushes to my head and a burst of heat flits along every inch of my skin at the mere thought of him touching me.
He narrows his gaze and I nearly stop in my tracks. “I asked you a question.”
Once I’m standing directly over Tristano, I tilt my head, but not too much so I don’t tumble into his lap. “I’m testing out a hypothesis.”
“And what would that be?” He leans back in his chair and folds his arms. “To see if you can get drunk? Because I promise you that's entirely possible and may already be the case.”
“Yup.” I elongate the word and it has the desired effect. From the way his eyes flash, Tristano is ready to discipline me. The very thought ignites my motivation, giving me the courage to continue.
“Look,” I say with a snappy tone, inwardly cringing when he stiffens, “I just wanted to thank you for tonight and you’re making it very difficult for me. I told you I haven’t spoken in two years, but you’re pushing me to give you answers or responses when I’m not ready, so can you give me a second?”
He nods slowly, anger simmering in his silver eyes, turning them liquid.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that if I want to do this, it’s now or never. We’re returning to Chicago tomorrow and there won’t be another opportunity where Tristano and I will be alone and in a relaxed state. Sort of.
I’m nervous as hell and he looks ready to spank my ass again.
Before I lose the last of my bravery, I turn my back on him, not only to give myself this final reprieve, but to move all the items on the table off to the side. As soon as the space is clear, I suck in a breath and face Tristano, right before placing my foot on his armrest.
“Violetta, what in the fu—”
His words die as I push from his chair and use the momentum to hoist myself onto the table. Then I secure each heel on either side of his body, propping them on the armrests and caging him in. My legs, already spread from straddling him, fall to the sides and I swear Tristano looks ready to dole out violence.
Or a rough fuck.
I reach for the hem of my dress and his gaze shoots to my hand, fastening to it when I lift the material. He watches as though hypnotized, his eyes trailing every one of my movements, and the only reaction besides that is his throat shifting from him swallowing deep. After I’m done rearranging my dress so that it’s out of the way and leaves me completely exposed—since he never gave me back my panties after the spanking—I clasp my hands and wait.
This is either going to bring about humiliation or desire, but at least I’ll know I didn’t waste this opportunity.
Carpe diemat its finest.
He opens his mouth and I brace myself. But nothing happens. Tristano has been rendered speechless and I’d take delight in that if I wasn’t so damn nervous. Just because I want to have sex with him doesn’t mean I’m suddenly a seductress with the knowledge of how to get a man to jump in her bed. Or on her.
I wish Tristano would do it already and save me the trouble.
My plan, which wasn’t anything more than to make my intentions abundantly clear, needs help. I reach down and once again his eyes follow the motion, similar to the way a cobra follows a flute player. And I’m definitely the one who’s playing the instrument.
Myself.
The second my fingertips brush my clit Tristano’s pupils contract and then dilate, the silver of his eyes all but disappearing. I recall the way that woman in365 Dnitouched herself and I channel that same wild abandon, letting my head fall back and my eyes close as my arousal swells and my sex dampens. I dip my finger inside and bring it back to my clit, stroking it harder and faster.
I’m more than aware of Tristano watching me, but I’m caught up in how good this feels, and not just because he’s there. It’s beyond that. I’m reveling in my boldness and the fact that I’m exposed in public.
And vulnerable, completely at Tristano’s mercy.
“Don’t come yet.” The sound of his voice, hoarse and broken because of his desire, because of me, brings my orgasm closer. “If you do before I tell you to, I’m going to whip your ass until you can’t sit down.”
I give a strangled moan and clench my teeth to keep from coming. This is what I wanted. He’s followed me down the path of lust and for the first time I’m not scared, only nervous because it’s unknown and new to me.
But that doesn’t matter because it’s not for Tristano.
Tristano
Violetta masturbating on the table in front of me, where I’m basically eye-level to her cunt is nothing short of a fucking fantasy.
When she first walked over to me I saw the glint of determination in her gaze and thought it was nothing more than her usual spark of rebellion. Little did I know what she was planning. Would I have been able to stop her if I had? I highly doubt it.
