His right hand skirts down the plane of my stomach until he reaches the slit of my dress, slipping under the fabric. “This dress has been driving me out of my mind all night.” He thumbs at the lace covering my center, humming when he comes in contact with the wet warmth coating the material before pushing it to the side and administering teasing strokes over my slit. He’s touching me, but it’s not nearly enough.
I cry out, head tilted back into the crook of his shoulder, undulating my hips, seeking more pressure, more friction. The couple across from us is forgotten when he cups my pussy, drawing two fingers through my wetness, teasing back and forth between my clit and opening.
Tieran circles around my entrance before spearing two long fingers deep inside me, forcing me up on the balls of my feet as I cry out at the intrusion. Bliss, unfettered bliss, blanks out my mind. His left hand trails up from my hip, teasing fingers brushing against my stomach, shifting upward to pinch my nipple before wrapping around the column of my neck while he simultaneously pumps his fingers in and out in perfect rhythm.
He tilts my head up and leans down, breath coasting over my lips. “There’s no world in which I wouldn’t make it out of here in handcuffs if someone else got to experience this.”
“That’s not your place,” I gasp, defiant even now. Hisresounding chuckles warms against my temple, as his hips thrust against my ass.
“I don’t care if it’s not my place. No one else is touching you.” He uses his thumb to place steady pressure on my clit, working his fingers in and out as everything coils tight.
My breath hitches. Thinking right now feels impossible. “I’m no—I’m not yours. You don’t get to make that decision.”
“You feel like mine when your sweet cunt is clenching around my fingers.” My walls pulse at his words, and he smiles wider down at me. “Do you think you would have gotten this wet for him?”
I pant out a whimpered breath squirming against his hard cock. He growls in my ear, “Answer me.” A gruff echo of my earlier words lobbed back at me.
“Yes.”
It’s an obvious lie.
“Don’t lie to me, love.” He nips on my earlobe. “You can pretend all you want—tell yourself we don’t work—but your body is betraying you. You want me more than you’ll allow yourself to admit. Now, be a good girl and come for me.”
He squeezes gently on my neck, and I unravel, body shaking as I come from the combination of his words and the mind-blowing pleasure he brings me with just his hands.
Slowly, he releases his grip around my body, rubbing my clit as the aftershocks of my orgasm heave through my body like a tidal wave. A sense of longing settles over me when he steps away, the warmth of his body dissipating. But when he slowly brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them between his lips, Tieran hums out a contented sigh I can feel in my chest, and suddenly, I’m hot all over again.
I look down at his lap, noting the still raging hard on he’s sporting. I step toward him hand extended, but he grabs my wrist, stepping further out of my reach. “When you admit you like me, I’ll let you touch me again.”
I raise a brow. “You’re going to be waiting a while then.”
“Keep telling yourself that, love.”
The silence in the room is loud, but the implication is clear. I just made this…thing between us a lot harder to ignore.
When we remember where we are, I look over at the window and realize how easily the world around us faded when he touched me. Because the room on the other side of the glass is completely empty, and I never even noticed.
I didn’t lethim walk me home.
Instead, once my lust-addled brain cleared, I opted to run away and hail the first cab that came my way before Tieran could follow me. Maybe I’m a coward, but what the fuck was I thinking? I wasn’t—that was the problem: I don’t think around him. Everything becomes jumbled in my head, my good sense flies out the window, and all I see is him—his smile, those stupid dimples, his eager eyes.
A desperation came over me, one that felt inescapable in the moment. It was either give in to what’s been burning through me for weeks, or leave. I didn’t want to leave; I felt like I might die if I did. Every fiber of my being wanted to stay with him, to spar verbally with him…to have him touch me again. What harm would come from giving inonemore time in a darkened room where no one would see us? Scratch the itch, and then I would forget it happened.
What an absolute idiot. Statues should be erected in my honor for the unfathomable levels of idiocy I so valiantly displayed.
Lying to myself and believing I could just pretend nothing happened was as effective as throwing grease on a fire, and now, everything is burning to the ground, my sanity first.
It was so much worse now, proven by thefact I’ve been sitting in this meeting for thirty minutes, unable to focus, my mind dragging itself back to Tieran on a never-ending spin cycle.
When I’m around him, it feels like the one time I’m able to shut my brain off and just be. No expectations, no posturing. He provokes me at every turn, and it’s as thrilling as it is infuriating. I can’t even recall the last time I had this much fun with anyone, let alone with a man. My ex was convenient more than anything, and nothing about him made me feel alive, not like I do with Tieran.
Brendan was a hot shot studio manager in L.A., and when we met, things were easy and fun for a while—glamorous dates, yacht parties, dinners at Nobu with Hollywood’s best. It was everyone’s dream in Los Angeles, but the glitz of the city’s social scene never excited me like it probably should have. Brendan reveled in every second of it, loved preening for the masses, especially when I was on his arm. It wasn’t exactly a love connection, but I stayed out of some misguided sense of loyalty, too busy with work to even notice I was bored, of him, of our relationship. Then, I found him in bed withmyassistant, Veronica. I mean, really, you couldn’t be more original? But I guess originality was asking too much from a man who wore the same outfit every day—navy chinos, a dove grey button up, and his Rolex—becauseevery self-respecting studio manager has a Rolex.
I should have left long before I had to hear Veronica’s shrill gasps of pleasure, but there was a comfort in the predictable. I didn’t have to work at it because there was nothing to it. My manager told me to forgive him, said affairs were normal in relationships like ours and that fans loved a power couple, but the problem was,Ididn’t want a relationship like ours anymore. Brendan didn’t either, even though he was willing to stay for his image.
The decision to break up with him was freeing, like the weight of social expectation drifted away on the Santa Ana winds the moment I ended things. I wanted street tacos, and he wanted bite sized portions of toro carpaccio. Hewanted a beautiful trophy, and I was starting to realize I didn’t know what I wanted anymore. Our puzzle pieces didn’t fit. They never did, and they never would.
Within weeks, and aftermanyarguments with Maxineandfinancial advisors, I bought the Legends, moved across the world, and stumbled into a dimly lit pub, where I met a man with eyes like the sea. I kept getting pulled in, kept getting swept away. I was weathered stone lodged deeply into the shore, stubborn and obstinate, but his waves kept crashing against me until I slowly loosened and was pulled away into the current. Those eyes are what my memory keeps catching on today.
