I stare at him, mind turned to static.Show him?
Lachlan’s eyes devour my expression, his contoured mouth curling slowly into the world’s sexiest smile, sending warm pulses of pleasure throughout my bloodstream, making my fingertips tingle, aching to touch, to be touched.
He tips his head low to whisper, “Take off your panties and show me.”
A rush of ecstatic embarrassment grips me as I bend down, eager to obey. I shuffle the multiple layers, reaching under the hems, bunching up the long floaty layers of the expensive dress, raising it to my calves, my knees, my thighs.
The excitement makes my skin feel electric, the hairs on my arms, the nape of my neck, standing on end. The potentialembarrassment of discovery heats my core, mixing with my existing desire and amplifying it, taking it higher.
Moving leisurely, I hook my thumbs into the elastic waistband of my flimsy underwear and slowly, slowly draw them down, letting the skirts of my dress fall at the same speed to cover again what was uncovered.
I wriggle my hips, a little bit to help remove my knickers, a lot to make the whole thing seem more like a sexy dance and less like an embarrassing spectacle. Not that I think Lachlan minds either way, his eyes brim with appreciation.
When they’re at my ankles, I daintily step out of them, one leg at a time, then neatly fold them before presenting them to him like a treasure.
“So obedient,” he says, grinning as he plucks the gift from my hand. He sniffs them, a long inhalation that sets me on fire with shame and longing, then he stuffs them into his pocket. “Show me more.”
Without thinking, I reach between my legs, drawing a finger along my lips, easily slipping inside because I’m dripping wet for him; have been from the moment our eyes met in the lobby.
I lift my hand and he takes over, sucking it into his mouth, eyes never breaking from mine, sucking it clean and I would fall to my knees right here, right now if he told me, I wouldn’t hesitate. Some part of me wants him to. Wants him to order me and guide me and tell me what he needs me to do to make him experience the same pleasure I do. Like I will literally implode with tension if he can’t help me release it.
He eases my finger from his mouth, rubbing it across his lips, then handing control of the limb back to me.
Another pair of students burst through the door, stumbling along the hall to reach the narrow alleyway outside. I expect Lachlan to move a step away, to avoid them reaching the rightconclusion, but he doesn’t. He notices them as much as he noticed me during my first three months at school.
“Meet me outside your house.” He glances at his watch, raising his eyebrows. “I’ll be stuck here until one at least, so make it two o’clock.”
I nod. Helpless to do anything else. Helpless to look away from his beautiful face, his hypnotic eyes.
His hand cups my cheek briefly, thumb stroking with its rough pad, then he’s gone, striding back into the main ballroom, not waiting to see if I follow.
For a moment, I can’t. I put a hand on the wall for support as I try to catch my breath.
When I do finally make it back to our table, Keanen and Greta are thick as thieves, chatting away, his arm draped over her shoulder. He glances to me, eyes offering a challenge, but I shrug. If that’s what they want, then I won’t stand in their way.
The night continues, dragging now I have something to look forward to, the seconds taking hours to turn into minutes, then jumping ahead without warning, eating into the time left until we can leave.
We all go outside, taking advantage of Keanen’s patio key. It’s on the first floor, about six metres long and two metres deep. There are two heavy wooden picnic tables and foldup chairs propped against the outside wall.
Our party sprawls around the largest table, soon filling its surface with emptied bottles.
When I take a seat, I can feel the hard edge of the wood through my dress, the additional barrier gone, tucked away in Lachlan’s pocket. The bareness, the naughtiness, sends a jolt of secret pleasure straight into my core. I press my thighs together, intensifying the sensation, heat gathering between my legs, thewetness of my continuing arousal surely soaking through the layers of my dress.
My energy is taken up by not looking at Lachlan. I can the heat of his gaze even as my eyes are averted. I chew on my nails, biting them to the quick then nibbling on the calloused skin down the sides.
Keanen gets drunker and drunker until even Greta looks concerned. His words stumble into each other, dragging out the vowels and slurring the consonants until context is the only way I can decipher what he’s saying.
On his next trip to the bar, I accompany him, wanting to convince him to divert to water, perhaps threatening the serving staff like Lachlan’s mother did at her home.
“He’ll never break up with Kari, you know,” Keanen tells me as he abandons the attempt to walk in a straight line in favour of leaning against the wall. “My family’s just as rich as his and I’ll tell you this for free. Elites only ever marry their own kind.”
He leans closer to me. I’m not in the mood for home truths or whatever else it is his addled brain has in store. I tug him upright and point him towards the bar, but instead of following my lead, he rests his hands on my shoulders then shoves me flat against the wall.
“Don’t,” I yelp, startled.
His mouth aims for mine and I try to turn aside again, like I did at the photo booth, but he grips my chin, holding me steady. I push against him, readying myself to yell, when his hand slips. I tear my chin away, but he grabs it again, off balance. Maybe intending just to pin me, he instead knocks my skull hard against the wall.
The moment he hears the crack, his face collapses. “Oh, god. I’m sorry.”
