He kept doing it. Kept licking, slowly, sucking, until I finally said, “Oh, please… Stop.”
He took his mouth away and let me go.
I pushed myself a little more upright and my dress drifted down over my legs. He grabbed my hips and turned me back around. I leaned back against the counter, still clutching it, as I tried to catch my breath.
And when I saw his face… it really fucked with my head.
Had I ever seen anything so motherfucking sexy? Anything even half as arousing as Dane Davenport down on his knees in front of me, in his shirt and tie, his usually neat hair drifting down over his eyes, his pupils wide and dark and those pale-green irises locked on me? His gorgeous lips flushed from making me come…
He got to his feet. I was still panting as I fought my panties back up and my dress back down. He slipped his hand around my neck and up into my hair, and he kissed me, hot and dominating. And I totally gave into it, kissing him back with a fervor.
Our first real kiss.
Deep. Hungry. Reciprocal.
No cameras.
Lots and lots of tongue.
The heat between us was so intense, sweat trickled down under my arms.
Then he pulled back, looked me in the eyes and licked his lip.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice a low, satisfied growl. “I probably can’t make you come.”
Then he straightened his tie and glanced briefly past me, into the mirror. He smoothed his hand through his hair, met my eyes again, once, then plucked his jacket off the hook and left.
I cleaned myself up, avoiding my reflection as I tried to breathe like everything was normal. I did not just have an incredible orgasm bent over a sink in a restaurant washroom.
Then I looked at myself in the mirror again.
What the fuck. I wassmiling.
The smile faded when I reminded myself who’d done that crazy awesome thing to me that just happened in here.
Dane Davenport.
A man I once promised myself I would never feel anything for but passing hatred.
He may make you come, but he is not going to make you smile.
I pressed a damp hand towel to my neck and I could feel my pulse beating wildly in my throat.
Pull yourself together, Devi. It’s just sex.
It’s all just a game.
I blew out a deep, slow breath, drew back my shoulders, and strutted back out to our private room, my legs feeling rubbery. Our server had come and gone, clearing away our dirty plates and leaving a dessert menu.
Dane got up to pull out my chair for me, though it was already pulled out.
“Stop smiling,” I said as I sat down.
He sat back down and lounged back in his seat. He’d left his suit jacket off. Maybe he’d worked up a sweat in the ladies’ room, too.
“I’m not smiling,” he said. “You are, though.”
“I’m not.” I put back the last of my wine. “Are we having dessert?”
