The sound of my gasp blends into the applause when someone wins the bid.
MR. GENTLEMAN: Close your lips, angel. They’re giving me deviant ideas.
I shudder, closing my mouth.
MR. GENTLEMAN: Such a good little girl when you obey.
ME: Stop it!
MR. GENTLEMAN: Is it making you wet?
Too impatient to wait for my reply, he slips his hand underneath my dress and drags a finger through my folds.
MR. GENTLEMAN: So fucking soaked.
He brings his hand to his mouth, running the glistening finger over his bottom lip and licking it slowly.
The seductive action stirs the demanding ache in my pussy to life.
MR. GENTLEMAN: I bet I can make you come right here.
The hand returns to rest high over my thighs, caressing and squeezing torturously.
MR. GENTLEMAN: Can you be quiet?
I shove my hand to my lap, closing my fist around his wrist. Twisting my face, I utter a plea only for his ears. “You’ll get us caught. Please stop.”
“Fine.” He smirks. “Since you asked so nicely.”
Shaking my head at his playfulness, I stare at the host on the stage as he presents a slide for the audience about the nonprofit organization that they’ll be donating the money to.
Halfway through it, I remember I never asked Nathan who almost caught us before he distracted me with his dirty talk. So, I message him.
ME: Who was it back there? Are you okay?
MR. GENTLEMAN: My dad.
That explains his menacing energy.
ME: Are you going to introduce us tonight?
MR. GENTLEMAN: We’ll save it for another night.
ME: Okay.
ME: Last question… Where did Samaira go?
MR. GENTLEMAN: Home.
ME: Why?
MR. GENTLEMAN: I asked her after I told her I’m not interested in her.
Pleasure so intense dizzies me at reading his answer. My cheeks hurt from trying to contain my grin. I know it doesn’t mean I have a claim over him come tomorrow. But for tonight, I’m enjoying being the center of his attention.
“Whoa!” someone exclaims.
“What’s happening?” gasps Mrs. Roshan.
