I guess she knows if anyone can make this dinner with my father more entertaining, it’s Dane.
Right when we walk in, the hostess greets us and immediately takes us to a corner table in the restaurant. My father must have name dropped Dane Campbell because the restaurant is packed and I guarantee you this wasn’t easily available.
The table is square with two chairs on each side. I step to the opposite side of it, placing myself closest to the corner where I’d prefer to remain in solitary so I can just get through the evening. Instead of Dane sitting across the table like I expect, he slides into the seat directly next to me with yet another fat grin on his face. My father sits directly across from Dane, pleased with the full frontal attention.
We go through the pleasantries with the waiter and order food and wine. We finish the first bottle before the appetizers arrive and Dane orders yet another bottle of wine, topping me off again.
“Stop trying to get me drunk,” I reply under my breath.
“Why? You’re so much more fun when you’re drunk.” Hishand discreetly covers the top of my thigh and my knee jerks up, banging the bottom of the table.
My dad glares in my direction even though he has no idea if that was actually me, but my dad blames me for everything.
“Ope, sorry about that. Big legs,” Dane replies like he was the one that hit the table and then expertly steers the conversation in another direction. “So, Edward, tell me more about your company.”
Edward Russo rubs his hands together like a mad scientist and spews out his elevator pitch like he’s practiced it a million times. Except, it’s not really an elevator pitch because those are supposed to be summarized quickly. He just keeps talking and talking. I find myself taking more sips of wine as I watch both of them.
God, I hate this. Wining and dining clients. Kissing ass for a living. The managing money part isn’t horrible but how am I going to build relationships with clients when I don’t want to build relationships with anyone.
I only ever like talking to Hannah. And more recently Dane.
I curse myself at the thought.
Dane is engaged with my dad, more engaged than I’ve seen him today and I wonder if he’s actually considering working with his company. It would be a huge account for my father.
I flinch again at the heat of Dane’s hand as it crawls up my thigh. It was more gentle this time so I didn’t kick my leg up but it feels too soft and intimate. He’s still looking at my father with a completely composed expression, you’d have no idea he’s groping me under the table.
I place my hand over his, gripping tightly as I attempt to push his hand off my leg but he holds strong, dipping into my inner thigh and cupping between my legs.
“Umpf,” I grunt out and then cough a couple of times grabbing my water. “Sorry…swallowed my own spit,” I reply with the first thing that comes to mind. My father is clearly not pleased.
“No problem,” Dane replies, “you were saying?” He turns back to my father, expertly hiding the fact that he’s palming my cock.
Dane continues a rhythmic pace as my dad names off stats and numbers and other facts that I can’t pay attention to because I can only feel his hand on me. You would think the fabric of these expensive trousers would be enough armor to protect me from such a simple act, but they’re far from dense. In fact, I swear they’re made out of fucking tissue paper with the way I can feel all the ridges of his fingers dip underneath and around my now hard cock.
My eyelids flutter as he wraps his skillful hand around my length and tugs, the fabric providing an unexpected pleasurable friction.
“Oh, fuck,” falls from my lips as a groan rumbles in my chest.
My dad ignores me, and thankfully I can’t hear anything he’s saying because the pleasure builds in my groin as Dane continues at a slow, but punishing pace. He stops and I huff out a heavy breath as if I finally come back to earth.
“You okay?” Dane asks, sans any clue he’s stroking me off right now.
“I’m good,” I reply, my voice husky and thick.
“Food is coming, don’t forget your napkin.” Using his other hand, he tosses a napkin at my lap and I pat it down under the tablecloth, trying to act normal when nothing is fucking normal right now. The hand hidden underneath the table begins unbuttoning my pants and releases my zipper.
I give him a pleading look, which he ignores, as a rush of cool air hits my cock before he wraps his entire hand around it, stroking it from base to tip.
Smothering another groan, I jerk forward, pretending to adjust my seat as I pat the napkin.
My dad is still talking, how I don’t even know but I don’t care because if I don’t come I think I might die.
I shift my gaze to take in Dane’s profile. His eyes are still bright with a pleased expression but his pupils, they’re a shade darker than usual. His sharp jawline is clenched like he’s enjoying every minute of this but hates holding himself back.
He side-eyes me as his lips tip up in a smirk, then he rubs his palm over my tip coating himself with my pre-cum then jerks down the length of me. I grunt again and my father pauses, looks at me, then continues talking.
Dane knows how loud I am in bed. I’m not good at being quiet.
