I swallowed hard, jaw clenched, and lifted my glass with my free hand like nothing was wrong and I wasn’t hanging on by a thread. Like the man who once ran across Monaco just to touch her was still alive in me. Only now he had permission.
And God help me, that made it so much worse.
I nipped at her earlobe. “You need something, baby?”
Her breath hitched. I watched the goosebumps ripple down her arm.
She didn’t answer at first. Just tilted her head slightly like she was thinking—considering the question, tasting it. Then she shook her head once, small and slow. “No,” she murmured, calm and composed. “I’m fine.”
A lie. A pretty, deadly lie.
I glanced around the table, every inch of me buzzing. Kimi was half-smiling at Lucy, his wine glass raised like he’d forgotten how to be subtle. Marco was busy fake-arguing with Ivy over her stealing his food. No one was looking at us. No one had any idea.
My lips brushed her ear again, my voice low and reverent. “You’re not wearing anything under this dress,” I murmured. “You’re still full of me from earlier, and I can feel how soaked you are again.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around mine, our rings clicking together like punctuation.
“Do you need something?” I asked again.
She hesitated, turning her face to look at me, noses brushing. Our eyes locked, and I think I fell a little harder. “I need you,” she whispered.
My hand slid slowly up her inner thigh beneath the table, pushing the skirt of her dress higher until I reached the arousal smeared all over the inside of her thighs. I exhaled sharply, letting out a sound that was more of a groan than a breath.
“Then be a good little wife,” I rasped, barely audible, “and sit all the way down.”
Eyes never leaving mine, she moved. Not urgently or dramatically, but a subtle shift of her hips, one hand adjusting the hem of her dress like she was smoothing it over her lap, her spine straightening against me with practiced ease.
I moved too, slow and careful, fingers working my zipper beneath the table as Ivy launched into some chaotic story about nearly getting arrested in Mykonos. The timing was absurd. Her voice rose just enough to mask the sound of fabric rustling and breaths mingling.
I flexed my hips, freeing myself, and then she lowered herself. Not fully at first, the tip of my cock already leaking, already desperate, letting me throb against her entrance, the metal of my piercing dragging through her folds like it belonged there.
The second she pressed down, I felt the heat of her slick lips parting around me like a secret. I saw stars as she settledthere, teasing. Only rewarding me with the outline of her soaked, needy, velvet-soft, devastating pussy.
She stayed like that for a minute, rocking gently—barely. It was maddening. My jaw was locked so tight I thought I might break it.
Then she sat back all the way, sinking down, slow and sinful. The head of my cock breached her with a wet, impossible glide. She bit down on her lip. My hand gripped hers like a goddamn vice.
My head dropped back against the booth as my cock split her open, inch by agonizing inch, until I was buried to the hilt in the tightest, hottest, most perfect cunt I’d ever felt. And I’d felt it. God, I knew it by heart.
But never like this.
Never so publicly. Never while our friends sat two feet away. Never while I was supposed to be calm.
Holy. Fucking. Hell.
And no one at this table had a single fucking clue.
Not Ivy, whose wine glass now sloshed as she gestured wildly mid-story. Not Marco, who kept muttering in Italian about “a proper fucking scandal.” Not Kimi or Lucy, whose hands were slowly but definitely inching closer on the table between them.
Not one of them knew that my wife was cockwarming me in the middle of a five-star restaurant like it was second nature.
As for Auri? She didn’t even flinch. She sipped her wine like she was sipping holy water instead of soaked to the thighs, sitting flushed to the hilt, fluttering around me with every slow pulse of her body.
My hand curled possessively around her waist beneath the table.
And I swore to God, if she moved again—I’d come right here in front of everyone.
I kissed her shoulder gently, and whispered, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
