Ben hands shifts under the material of my dress and his fingers tease, drawing slow, lazy circles near the apex of my thighs but never touching where I feel that glorious, unsatisfied ache.
“Blake was an arse.” Lennox puts his cutlery down, emphasizing his point. “I had no idea why you even considered something with him.”
He looks at me and I realise I’m going to need to shift the conversation onto someone else if Ben continues what he’s doing with his gentle torture.
“You say that with everyone I date. And he wasn’t an arse.” My words are met with the first delve of a digit between my folds, brushing past my clit. I know Ben can feel my wetness, the slick silk between my legs coating his fingers.
Lennox shakes his head and says nothing. It’s rare he passes comment on anyone I date, mainly because it’s so few.
“Is this Blake Harper from Chicago?” Letty has just clicked.
“It is.” I shoot her smile at the same time Ben cups my sex and then starts to press a finger in my pussy. He does it without tenderness, pushing in fast and rapid, the seating angle making it tight.
I’m being fingered under the table at dinner with my brother and our American guests. My nipples pucker, tightening and I hope no one notices because I can’t blame it on a cool breeze.
“Blake Harper’s just married an American heiress. Did you see their wedding?” Letty’s in full-blown theatrical mode now. It would be amusing if I didn’t have someone assaulting my g-spot.
He was the first boy to touch me there and the only one to know how to play me like I was his fiddle. Ben’s callused thumb grazes my clit, pushing down on it, applying pressure. His finger thrusts inside me, not fast enough to make his arm move, but enough to take me closer and closer to the edge ofthe little death.
Every time he made me come before he left he took a piece of my soul with him. I didn’t know it then, but the devil always demands a payment and since he stopped taking what I offered, I don’t think I’ve felt as alive.
“I didn’t. I’m not one for magazines or social media.”
Letty starts to chatter away and the topic changes to eligible bachelors. Voigt listens, amused at his wife and her sister, and even more amused when they start to talk about Lennox and who would be a suitable Scottish queen.
All the while, I’m seated in my chair, sipping at my Aperol spritz, while the man who I was addicted to as a teenager fucks me with his fingers.
Lennox is attempting to give reasons why he shouldn’t date anyone right now and Elise leaves the table when I start to come. I feel the shudders overtake me and I try to stifle them, while my insides pulse their way inside out. There’s a gush and a second finger; I have no idea how I’ll stand up later but I don’t care.
I clutch the arms of the chair and wait for the orgasm to subside, hiding my moans and the breathlessness. Lennox’s words mean nothing; Elise’s return isn’t even acknowledged.
Ben pulls out his fingers and cups my sex again, soothing it. He then takes his hand above the table and sucks on his fingers, a blatant erotic act but no one notices it.
He catches my eye.
I don’t look away.
He may have ruined me in public, but I know that he won’t be standing up anytime soon and his balls will be heavy and hurting.
Who holds the power now?
* * *
Silence hovers over the island.
Voigt and the sisters have long since gone, departing fairly early, all smiles and half plans to meet again during the day to sail together. I knew those plans well; ones that wouldn’t be fulfilled because no one was really that enthusiastic.
My bed is softer than normal and my head is clear. The orgasm that Ben fingered out of me made alcohol redundant and I reverted to water, needing to focus on something other than telling the world what he’d just done.
The air conditioning is off; the balcony doors wide open and a gentle, cool breeze swoops through the room. I lie naked on the bed, remembering everything from the meal. He’d been motionless, his expression stone. Other than how he’d tasted me on his fingers, he’d given nothing away. It was almost as if it had all been in my imagination.
I hear the sea in the distance, the gentle waves of the pool. No voices break the sound, the sweet bliss of emptiness. I slip between the sheets, feeling their coolness sooth my skin and I stretch out. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a bed with anyone.
My eyes close and my body remembers Ben’s touch, his welcome invasion and then there is the sound of a click as the electric lock opens.
I sit upright, the sheet pooling at my waist, my breasts exposed even though I have no idea who I’m going to see.
But I should.
