“I think I need some air,” Mason mutters, tossing his napkin on the table before making a quick exit.
“That’s it—I can’t let you suffer in silence any longer, Gem. I’m going to find some Wind-Eze,” Anna announces, already standing and heading off in search of meds.
“Screw. You,” Gemma grits out between clenched teeth.
I lean in, close enough that only she can hear. “I’m dying to sink my fingers and cock into this sopping-wet pussy.”
She fiddles with the cutlery as she tries to distract herself from my touch. Before it goes too far, I pull out my hand and wipe my fingers over my own napkin before taking another sip of my wine.
When I sit back, April’s eyes are already on us. Her expression is tight with worry, her lips parted like she just witnessed something she can’t quite make sense of.
“Everything all right?” James asks April, noticing her sudden silence.
“Perfect,” April chirps, her voice overly bright. “I’ll go check on Anna and Mason.”
Gemma shifts in her seat, reaching for her water as I discreetly readjust my napkin to conceal my obvious erection.
She tips her head toward me, keeping her voice low enough that only I can hear. “You’re going to pay for that.”
I lick my lower lip. “Yeah? How wet are you, Gemma?”
I swear I hear her whimper. “Sowet.”
I survey the room to see what everyone’s up to. No one pays us any attention, all preoccupied drinking, chatting, or cleaning up.
Through the French doors connecting the open living area to the courtyard, I spot Mason seated alone. He looks deep in thought. Anna flits around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets until she pulls out a plastic tub filled with small boxes—medication, I’m assuming, for Gemma’s supposed wind.
“Gem,” she calls across the room, waving a box labeledWind-Ezearound like a flag. “I’ll leave it on the bench here for you.”
Every head in the room turns toward Gemma, who attempts to hide behind the rim of her glass.
“Fuck my life,” she mutters, and I stifle a smirk.
Anna joins Mason outside, balancing a drink in each hand as she approaches him.
With everyone now distracted, I make a quick decision.
If I want Gemma’s tight little pussy—and I do, with an intensity that’s beginning to burn—I need to act now.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gemma
My thong is soaked through.
I’m sitting in a pool of my own arousal. I’m desperate to do something about the throb between my legs, but truth be told, I’m hesitant to stand for fear of having a wet patch on the back of my skirt.
The fact that everyone thinks I’m either constipated or unable to fart isn’t helping my situation. Will and Tom have been tossing me quizzical glances since Anna announced to the entire party that my butt’s apparently on strike.
My core throbs and heat lashes my skin. I need to get myself off. It’s like trying to scratch an itch you can’t reach—except the one person who could help is sitting right beside you.
“I want you.”
His voice is like gravel. Rough and raspy. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady myself, his words sending another pulse through me.
His fingers connect with my thigh again under the table, but this time he stays on top of the fabric.
“I can’t,” I breathe, while every cell in my body screams the opposite.
