“Mm, but you’re wearing leather that belongs to me. My clothes on my man. I’m dressing you and rescuing you. Adamoiseauin distress.” I ground my cock against his hip and rode out the wave of pleasure that shot along my shaft.
He sighed and shook his head. “You don’t speak French. And I’m not,” he said sharply. Before I could open my mouth, he proved he was a lawyer and pushed forward with the discussion. “And what does that have to do with you touching me...? Uh... Sir.”
“I do speak French. I went to a private school on Vert Island. I speak French, German, and English, although the German is barely conversational. They’re training everyone to be a diplomat there.” I leaned back, using my body weight to keep him in place, and again loved that I didn’t feel like I was in any danger of hurting him or even making him uncomfortable. I moved until my hard-on nestled against his, and he hissed out a breath through his teeth. It drove me wild that I could feel his cock filling out against mine. His pupils were huge and dark with need, and I fucking loved it.
“What does... that....” He closed his eyes and rocked against me. I lost the direction of our conversation and did a filthy grind with him that had me sucking in deep breaths.
“Victor’s rights, I won you, so I claim you. Hence the touching.”
His brow furrowed and he cracked his eyes open to glare at me as his cheeks flushed a red I wanted to see every day of his life. “Like a medieval lord?”
I planted my feet, puffed up my chest, and leaned close enough to barely ghost my lips over his. “Exactly.”
Flynn surprised me when he shoved at my chest, but I didn’t let him win. I muscled him back against the wall and the neediest gasp I’d ever heard escaped him. Oh, he wanted my cock bad.
A man opened the door and came in, his eyes wide as he stared at us, but he scuttled over to one of the stalls and quickly closed and locked the door. I snorted, and Flynn buried his face against my neck. Yeah, this right here was why I was in charge and he was the one getting taken care of. I absolutely didn’t give a fuck if anyone saw me with my man.
“You’re the anti-Prince Charming,” he grumbled, and I laughed when he moved because his stubble tickled my neck. Still chuckling, I put some space between us and tugged my phone out of my back pocket. I brought up the timer app and spun it toward him. His mouth fell open while he watched me set it for sixty seconds and push Start.
“And you’re my bitch. You better move. Time’s ticking away.” I danced the phone around, and he jumped, smoothing down his suit coat as he hurried back out into the restaurant, the doorwhumpingclosed behind him. A supremely satisfied pleasure bloomed in my gut at the sight of the man I’d just made so hard he could barely speak rushing to follow my orders—to get rid of the other asshole who wanted to fuck him. This magical elation was better than eating birthday cake or opening presents.
It would be courteous to wait the full minute before I went out there to check on his progress at getting rid of that cockbag. I tucked my phone away and washed my hands to give myself something to do. I took a second to splash cold water on my face and try to talk my cock into being less ready to greet the world. I’d never felt this amazing. I grinned at myself in the mirror and ran my wet hands through my dark hair. Somehow the waves had gone everywhere. I fixed the mess and tried to keep the expression on my face from sailing directly into smug-dickwad territory, but it was difficult.
After all, I was on the verge of getting everything I’d ever wanted. Flynn had agreed I’m in charge of him. He called me Sir—his Sir—and this wasn’t a one-off at some party. This wasn’t a hookup from an app. This was my newboyfriend. My newsub. He belonged to me. My heart squeezed and did a barrel roll.
Fuck, this was good.
As I walked out of the bathroom and back over to the booth I’d been using to keep tabs on how this Corey guy talked to Flynn, I wished I hadn’t sent him out alone. My body buzzed with the need to go over there, even as I sat down near my untouched gnocchi, which was drenched in sauce and cheese. The smell of tomato and basil was wonderful, but I couldn’t make myself touch the food.
Rage began to simmer and spark in my gut—it was clear Corey was convinced he was getting in that sweet ass tonight, flashing his smile around and leaning in too close to Flynn, who stood awkwardly near the booth. Flynn had been uncomfortable the entire time I’d watched them this evening, his shoulders tense from the second they were seated all the way until I’d snagged him in the bathroom. When I’d told Jury what I was up to in my “free” time tonight, he’d informed me I was “a five-alarm clinger cruising for a restraining order.” But he just didn’t get it, he’d never wanted someone the way I was starting to crave Flynn. Jury had also demanded to vid chat me, but I’d refused. I knew he would try to talk me out of this.
And I’d been right, as usual. Flynn needed me.
While I stared, not pretending I was doing anything else, Flynn reached up with both hands and gripped his tie. He ducked his head and it seemed like he was trying to think of some reply to the latest volley of words and flash of smile from Corey. Flynn shook his head, and whatever he said was met with a hand on his hip. I saw red, and then Corey stood up and slid that hand along Flynn’s belly and chest and kept slithering it up to cup the back of his neck, drawing Flynn into his personal space while he said something.
I hated this. Flynn was too fucking close to another man, and I was over this waiting bullshit. I’d warned him he had to get rid of the guy or I would.
The server, a pretty woman with apple cheeks and long black hair, went over to Flynn, and I got the impression she was asking if anything was wrong.
Flynn glanced around, and I had to wonder if he was looking for me as he allowed himself to be guided back to his seat by Corey, who laughed loudly and said something to the server that had her smiling.
My heart hammered as I decided I was really doing this. I couldn’t sit on my hands. I was going over there to start some bullshit with this other guy. I didn’t think Flynn had allowed himself to be manipulated back into his seat on purpose—he didn’t seem like that sort of man, to willfully disobey—but I also gathered he had no idea how to get away. He didn’t seem to have it in him to tell someone to fuck off... except me. I snorted in amusement at the irony.
Corey’s smile flashed brighter as he waved off the server and grasped Flynn’s hand, all while he smoothly sank down across from him again.
This creep thought he had Flynn, my man, right where he wanted him.
Fuck that.
Now or never.
Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I got up and went over to Flynn, putting my hand on his sturdy shoulder to let him know I was there. He seemed like he was stuck staring at Corey and hyperventilating. Corey’s eyebrows ticked upward as he got a good look at me, and I could tell the second he recognized me because he snorted and dropped Flynn’s hand. I straightened to my full height.
“Jake or something, right?” Corey drawled.
“Judge,” I shot back, smiling. I was glad I’d gotten the chance to remind him of my name so he would know who he was losing to. I turned enough to make it clear I was ignoring him and waited until Flynn’s deep brown eyes were aimed at my face. “You told me you were almost ready to go. What happened?” I pretended hard that Corey wasn’t anywhere in the whole restaurant.
The server noticed me standing near her problem table, and I gestured her over, doing my best to keep the mood light. She gave me a big smile and came to my side, almost as if she was glad to have a break.
