“Garrett,” I almost whimper.
“Shh.” He nuzzles into my hair. “Eyes forward. You don’t want to get us in trouble, do you?”
With a stuttered breath, I comply. My gaze fixes on the fuzzy outlines of the four musicians on stage. The stage lighting assures I see only them, and not the seats full of fellow concert-goers made up of students, faculty, and other staff. Even if I could see them, I don’t think I’d care. Something about being with Garrett makes me brave, or maybe my bravery lets me lose myself in the desires and emotions bubbling over inside me about this man.
Whatever it is, all I know is that the only thing I’m thinking about is this man’s finger tracing patterns up my leg. From my knee to my dress’s hem, he dances his fingertips against my skin. I bite back the little moan that threatens to escape. Each slow stroke fans the flames—its heat crisscrossing within me.
“For years, you’d show up to happy hour in these tight little pencil skirts,” he whispers, his hot breath kissing against the shell of my ear. “I’d sit across from you pretending I didn’t want to slip my hands below those skirts.” He slides his finger beneath my hem, skating the digit up my inner thigh. “Pretend I didn’t want to yank it up, and pull these aside—” he traces the lacy barrier between panties and bare skin, causing my breath to shallow“—and bury myself in this tight, little pussy.”
“Oh…” I try to stifle my little whine.
“Just as I thought.” He traces a slow circle over the front of my underwear, already damp with need. “You’re so fucking ready for me, aren’t you, pretty girl?”
“My office…isn’t that far,” I breathe.
It might not be the “special” experience he said he wanted for our first time, but the need inside me is boiling over. All I want is to feel him driving into me, sending both of us into oblivion.
“Patience,” he says, slipping his hand from beneath the jacket and resting it on top of my knee, making the fabric less blanket-like and more unwanted barrier.
“What?” I huff a breathy squeak. “Is this reciprocal torture for those pencil skirts?”
A smirk is evident in his silence. He’s toying with me. Whether it’s a playful payback for the five long years he’d wanted me, or to edge me in preparation for later, it doesn’t matter. Tension spools in my muscles from unresolved need, making it hard to remember what relief feels like.
Asshole, I mouth, shooting him a frustrated but playful expression. Thighs pressed tight, I sit up straight and keep my eyes locked on the stage.
“Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’m going to fuck that pout off of you later.” He leans in, his low murmur rumbles through me.
I press my thighs even tighter, praying I’ll make it that long. At this point, one more low murmur in his deep bass and I’ll come.
Two can play this game. Wickedness licks through me. I lean close and purr, “As long as you don’t mind my red lipstick on your cock.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers curl tight around the armrest.
“That’s the plan—” I brush my lips below his earlobe. “First you get to fuck my mouth, then my tight, little pussy.” I pat his cheek before settling back into my seat. “Now, be a good boy and watch the concert. We don’t want to get in trouble.”
The shift of his large body in the seat beside me is my victory lap. He’s as wound up as I am. Despite the ache between my legs, teasing him is delicious. It’s always been my favorite drug, and—let’s face it—I’m addicted.
“Ready?” he says, shooting up in his chair, the moment the performance ends.
“Is someone in a hurry to get home?” I coo, taking his arm as we move along the row.
He guides us down the stairs. “Just thought we could take a nicelongstroll through campus before we head out.”
“We certainlyare not.” I poke at his back as we descend the stairs.
“Oh, did you have something else in mind?” he muses ruefully, spinning to face me as we reach the bottom. “Perhaps, we can go for dessert?”
Head tipped up, I flash a sultry smile. “The only dessert I’m interested in is at my apartment, and I would like multiple helpings.”
“Multiple?” He folds his arms around me. “Someone is starving.”
“Famished.”
“I wouldn’t want you to waste away. Perhaps, something to tide you over until I can properly serve you dessert?” He bends, taking my mouth in a deep kiss.
My entire body jellies with each slow press. This taste only taunts of the promise of what’s coming.
“Again, my office is just down the way.”
