He realized she wasn't wearing a shirt beneath the shawl. Only the tight leather wrap around her breasts.
Dorian cursed under his breath.
He let his short nails brush up and down her soft skin. Goosebumps rose beneath his fingertips, and he allowed his digits to dip just so beneath the band of her pants.
The Blackhands were arguing about the rules of the new drinking game proposed by Damien. No one had noticed his movement or their quietness. When laughter roared around the table, Dorian made sure to include his own, and so did Reverie.
He took the distraction to move his hand to her hip, and Reverie moved up his leg to where her backside was at the top of his thigh. Dorian sat up to reach his cup, and in doing so, slid his hand between her legs. Her chest rose sharply when he paused there a moment, his fingertips brushing the seam of her pants. He deliberately hid his smile with his cup as he took a long drink, and then he settled back once more in the chair. Hand moving to the inside of her thigh, he squeezed her soft flesh.
Which was when he felt her hand move between his legs.
Dorian sat up again and subtly moved her hand to her drink, his head coming up behind her neck.
"Keep your hands around your drink and laugh when they do," he breathed against her skin.
He leaned back, free arm settled against the arm of the chair as he pretended to be joining in the conversation. His other hand moved, and he let his finger tease over the seam of the pants again. Her thighs squeezed around his after a few seconds. His touch pressed harder against her, and he watched her hands tighten around the cup, leaning up to laugh with the others.
Her weight shifted against him, hips moving backward again. He knew it was taking everything in her not to move her hands or show anything on her face.
Dorian began to unlace her pants.
He saw her gulp as they loosened, and when he got them undone, he slowly trickled his fingers inside.
It was a good thing a commotion of shouts bellowed at the table right then because Dorian cursed out loud when he felt her wetness beneath his fingers.
But Hagen had heard him.
Dorian's fluttered gaze lifted and met the High Elder's. Dorian immediately knew Hagen had caught what he was doing. Amusement spread over Hagen’s features, and he shook his head subtly as he drank another swig of his ale.
Of course, Dorian didn't care. Reverie on edge in his lap in the middle of a busy tavern had his heart thudding.
He flipped the High Elder off and winked as he reached for his cup, to which Hagen grinned.
Dorian turned his attention back to the woman on his lap, eyes dancing over her, watching her swallow and clench her hand. He sat his cup down as someone asked him a question, and he answered it without hesitating, his fingers moving slowly up and down her slickness, swirling at her clit and then grazing teasingly over it. She flinched a couple of times when he pressed harder against the nerves. And when he pinched her, the cup went to her lips where he knew she stifled a moan.
The conversation turned to the actual drinking game instead of just talks of the rules, and new drinks were passed around the table. Reverie picked hers up with astounding speed, and Dorian wondered if it was because he'd started the back and forth movement to bring her crumbling to her edge.
Her hips shifted against his knee, thighs squeezing as he leaned back in the chair once more. Laughter picked up around the table. Dorian slowed back to a tease, his finger only threading atop her hardened clit. He could feel her reaching when he picked up the pace again, see the strain in her tense back, in her stiff shoulders.
Dorian straightened and leaned up in the seat again, pretending to be cheers'ing Dag for the story he'd just told as part of the game, but in reality, only wanting a firmer hand against her folds as he slowed again. Keeping her at the edge he wanted her on. Straining and whimpering for that release. He snuck a glance at her, seeing her eyes flutter, and then he straightened against her back again.
"Should I leave you on this edge, Lady Fyre?" he breathed into her hair. "Or do you want your finish?"
Her lashes lifted over her shoulder with a glare that told him if he left her on edge, she would murder him in his sleep, and the sight of it made him smirk. He stayed leaned up behind her, his chest flush to her back, and he snaked his other hand between her thighs. Squeezing her flesh.
Keeping his gaze with her's, he moved his fingers faster atop her clit, intentions on ending her and making her fight the scream. Wanting to feel her wetness on his thigh. Her legs squeezed with his every move. Her legs began to lift. She was right where he wanted her. Body begging, breaths ceasing in her throat. She was holding in the shake with every grasp of her hands around that cup.
He wanted her to have to hide the scream so much that she choked on her wine.
"Take a drink," he said in her hair.
She did.
Dorian watched Dag and Katla stand, shouting at each other about the details of the story she'd begun telling. And he seized the opportunity. His finger pressed hard with the quick movement. She bucked against his hand. Her breaths visibly ceased. Dorian moved her hair so he could reach her ear, and his teeth tugged her earlobe.
"Shatter for me, Reverie," he whispered.
The table shook with Katla slamming Dag's head onto it.
