“No fair.” Remy’s hand moved between my thighs and I stifled a moan as he pushed his fingers inside me next to Poe’s. “Fuck, you’re right. Jesus, killer, it seems kind of obscene to be so fucking wet at the dinner table.”
I didn’t have the wherewithal to laugh at his joke. My body was on fire, my nipples hard under the red dress, my cunt so wet I was afraid I was going to leave a mark on the red leather under my ass.
I looked at Bram in an attempt to stop myself from sliding into a sex-induced stupor, but it didn’t help. His gaze was hot on my face, his nostrils flaring, jaw tight with restraint.
“Sorry about the seating arrangement,” Poe said to Bram.
He didn’t sound sorry.
“I’ll make it up later,” Bram said. “Believe me.”
There was a promise in his voice that made me even wetter and I had to force myself not to hold still, every instinct in my body screaming to move with the rhythm of their fingers, to hurry along the orgasm burning at my core.
The waiter returned with a small cart and went about setting the desserts on the table. I barely registered the cake and the berries, the crepes and the madeleines. There wasn’t room around the rough slide of Poe’s and Remy’s fingers moving together inside me.
By the time the waiter left I felt like a teapot ready to scream, tension practically spilling out of my body. Then Poe stroked my clit with his thumb and there was no holding back.
I stifled a moan but couldn’t stop the gasp that erupted from my mouth as waves of pleasure rolled through my body. I closed my eyes, beyond caring if anyone noticed, the orgasm more erotic for the fact that I was forced to keep the rest of my body still if I didn’t want everyone in the restaurant to know I was getting off over dessert.
It seemed crazy that the people around me didn’t know, impossible that I could experience such mind-numbing bliss, Poe’s and Remy’s fingers deep inside me, while the other diners drank wine and lifted forks to their mouths, oblivious to it all.
I opened my eyes to find the Butchers staring at me like wolves closing in on a rabbit.
“That was mean.” It wasn’t much as protests went but it was all I could muster.
Poe leaned in, his breath hot on my neck. “Your soaking cunt says otherwise, little bird.”
As if to prove my point, he withdrew his fingers and put them in his mouth to suck my juices from his skin.
A shiver traveled down my spine and goose bumps rose on my skin, because as good as the orgasm had felt, it had only primed me for what I knew would come later when we got back to the hotel.
“Maybe we should take the dessert to go?” I suggested.
Bram shook his head and reached for one of the dessert forks. “No can do.”
There was a flicker of mischief in his eyes. He’d had to wait so he was going to make me wait too.
He cut off a huge bite of the coconut cake and reached over Remy to offer it to me. Our gazes locked while I took it, and a nerve in his jaw ticked when a drop of the custard caught in the corner of my mouth.
I used my tongue to catch it, taking my time, relishing the deepening darkness of hunger in his eyes.
He wasn’t the only one who could tease.
39
BRAM
I knewMaeve was ready to go back to the hotel and fuck, which was why I suggested a walk in the park instead. She was so fierce, so in charge all the time. I loved that about her, but tonight I wanted her soft and whimpering with pleasure, begging for our mouths and cocks.
I let Remy take her hand as we left the restaurant. Denying myself access to Maeve’s body had become a kind of erotic self-discipline. She was the thing I wanted most in the world, my hunger for her body and soul insatiable. Forcing myself to wait had become a twisted kind of turn-on, the only way to exert control over a situation — over feelings — that were way beyond any semblance of real control.
It was cold as we made our way north through the city, and Poe walked slightly ahead of Remy and Maeve while I dropped back. It was instinctual, a protective formation around Maeve, like we could keep her not only safe but warm just by giving her cover.
The lights in Greenwich were a soft glow through the windows, the scrape of cutlery on restaurant plates oddly confronting and familiar. Music drifted through the doors of theupscale neighborhood bars and streetlamps cast a soft amber glow across the city winterscape. Above the shops, apartments glowed with lamplight.
We passed other pedestrians on the street, people heading to a bar for a late-night drink or hurrying out for a hookup, all of us part of another world, the one that came out after dark in cities around the globe.
There was no need for words, and I watched as Maeve leaned her head on Remy’s arm, grateful that she was with us, safe and sound where she belonged when six weeks earlier she’d been in Romania with Ethan Todd.
