“Vince,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the room.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart. You’re looking a little flushed,” he whispers as he massages my clit through the lace. Slow and agonizing. “You’re so fucking wet,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “I can feel it through your panties.”
I bite my lip, torn between the thrill of his touch and the fear of being caught.
I grip onto his forearm for dear life as I feel the dam about to burst when the waiter appears with our dessert.
Quicker than lightning, Vince’s fingers are gone, and I’m left frazzled and on edge.
The waiter sets down a plate of chocolate lava cake between us, the warm scent of dark chocolate and vanilla wafting up. My thighs are still trembling, my pulse still racing, and the sudden absence of his touch is almost cruel.
“Enjoy your dessert,” the waiter says with a polite smile, utterly oblivious to the fact that I’m two seconds away from combusting.
“Mmm, this dessert is amazing,” he says, sucking on his finger, the lava cake on his plate untouched.
“You’re going to finish off this dessert, right?” I whisper, my voice shaky. “Right?”
###
We burst through the door of the cabin an hour later, my pussy still aching for friction. The smell of fresh-baked cookies dances in the air. We follow the scent to the kitchen, where Ollie is standing at the stove, gulping wine as she eats a cookie straight from the pan.
She’s wearing a black tank top and those ridiculous raccoon pajama pants I got her as a joke for her birthday a couple of months ago. The waistband hangs low on her hips, revealing a smooth strip of her stomach, and the faint outline of her hipbones. Her hair is damp, the mountain air pulling out a few curls behind her ears.
“Hey, you guys are back earlier than expected,” she says, with a mouth full of cookie.
“Not early enough,” I bark, plopping my purse on the empty chair at the kitchen island.
“Uh-oh,” Ollie says, turning to us with a cookie in each hand.
“Did you just eat cookies for dinner?” Vince accuses, taking the offered cookie, and setting the to-go container of cheesecake on the counter.
Ollie pulls her hand away quickly, a flush growing up her neck.
“She’s a grown ass woman. If she wants to eat cookies for dinner, she should be able to!” I say as if I’m defending her for some heinous crime.
“Dude! What the fuck did you do!” Ollie hisses at Vince, her eyes open wide.
“Nothing! I swear!” Vince says, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
“Exactly! You did nothing,” I say, taking the cookie from Ollie.“Loverboy here started fingering my bits under the table at the restaurant, and just when I was about to burst, the waiter came by with dessert. He refused to finish me off!”
“You didn’t finish her off? What the fuck’s the matter with you?” Ollie piles on, clearly taking my side in this ridiculous charade of a real argument.
"They won’t arrest a pretty girl like Kat? Look at me! I'm getting thrown in the back of a squad car for sure,” Vince says, feigning horror as he grabs another cookie from the tray and leans against the counter. “These are fucking delicious by the way,” he adds.
“I bet you’d love prison,” Ollie says, ignoring his praise, and filling her mouth with another half of a cookie. “You know, they schedule like every minute of your life there.”
“You do look weirdly good in orange, too,” I add, taking a bite of the most delicious fucking thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.
“The waiter was watching me. It was like he knew what we were doing.”
“Maybe he wanted to watch,” I add as if it strengthens my argument.
“You’re reckless,” he smiles.
“You’re boring,” I shoot back without missing a beat.
“She’s got a point, Vin. The most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done was get a rat tattoo after seeing Ratatouille for the first time.”
