Lincoln offered him a lopsided smile. “The first time I ever stepped foot into a church was this one, Marshall. I don’t know a thing about the Bible or Thomas.”
“Lincoln?” A voice from a few tables away had all of us looking, but it wasn’t Ethan who stood there.
“Riot.”
“Can we talk?”
Lincoln looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
“You don’t have to talk to him,” I said softly, using Marshall’s earlier reminder to me on my best friend.
“I know. It’s good. If you guys wander off, I’ll come find you.” He leaned in close and dusted a kiss against the corner of my mouth. The opposite side from where Marshall had kissed me last, and instead of any sort of concern over how the affection would make Marshall feel, I only felt overwhelmed and washed in love.
“Does this mean we can begin the celebration?” Marshall whispered into my ear.
“What does the celebration entail?”
“Since when do you care?”
I chuckled, heat racing down my throat and spreading through my chest like wildfire. “We’ve never really…not in public.”
He turned me so my back was to his front. So I could feel the heat of his erection against the back of my hip.
“Let’s negotiate then,” he murmured.
Fuck.
It had been so long since we’d discussed consent and action, not for lack of action but lack of need. We’d both established the ground rules and the limits and the expectations so there wasn’t much left to say. I was always submissive to him. I’d even called him Sir in public before at times, but there were parts of what we did that hadn’t left his house before. Those rules were set but only applied when we were in the privacy of his home. Taking those acts out of the bedroom was something new for us entirely.
“Do you have different rules in public?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Before…before you, it was only scenes here and there. It didn’t feel so intimate.”
“Then maybe you were doing it wrong.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, resting my head against his chest.
“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to do this here?”
Feeling bold, I took his hand and dragged it down my stomach and lower still until his fingers danced over the hard line of my cock.
“I do want it.”
“Can I fuck you here?”
Arousal exploded between my legs and my dick jumped against his hand.
“That’s delightful, sweetheart, but it’s hardly consent.”
“In a private room,” I said, shivering. “With the door open.”
“Not entirely in the open,” he surmised, and I nodded my agreement. “Can I touch you over your clothes in the open?”
“Yes, please. Sir.”
Marshall curled his fingers around my dick, through my pants, and I groaned, lashes fluttering. He stroked me with a rough hand before letting it trail up my body again and under my shirt. His fingers twisted and flicked my nipples, and it wasvery hard to not writhe and moan for him right there on the patio.
The public setting enhanced everything. The pleasure, the need, all of it amplified with the crowds and the bodies around us.
