“Mmm.” His grin is downright smug. “And the trees are so girthy.”
I blanch again but quickly fall into laughter at his mocking raised brow. In my giggle fit, my hand instinctively covers his and squeezes. When I lean back in the booth, I take both our hands with me, right under the hem of my short dress. That breaks the spell and we both go silent, the heat between our bodies unbearable.
“Here you go, sir.” The entrance of the server doesn’t put a dent in the palpable tension. “Would you like a moment to review the menu?”
“Fried hydra cream bites to start with,” Grogoth said, his thumb caressing my thigh. “And yes, a moment, please. Thank you, Damion.”
“No problem.”
When the server departs, a small crack down the middle of the curtain remains. I notice the human band member’s scar completely covers this side of his neck, and he has a faint mark on his wrist as well.
“This menu is enormous,” I said. “And I can’t focus on the words while you distract me.”
“You mean, like this?” He leans closer, his breath hot on my forehead.
I inhale sharply as his hand caresses my upper thigh. I grip the menu for dear life, resisting my body’s temptation to reach down and stop him for fear of being seen. Fuck what others think. I've dreamt of his hands on me for years.
“If you’d like me to stop, speak up soon. Once I get going, I fear I won’t be able to.”
“Don’t stop.”
I squirm under his hand, hiking him further up my thigh. As he eases up the hem of my dress, I recall the crack in the curtains. A moment later, his knuckles are grazing the freshly waxed skin at the apex of my thighs. Grogoth stills.
“What a joy,” he chuckles. His nose grazes the side of my head. “You’re as much the naughty thing I thought you’d be. Where are your panties?”
I start to explain they make unnecessary lines under nice dresses, but a thick digit runs through my folds, parting my labia.
“And so wet for me already.”
Through the open sliver in the curtain, I spot our server. I try to right myself, but Grogoth’s hand is firm enough to keep me from struggling into a fully upright position. He means to continue while the server is here! The thought sends a bolt of desire through my every synapse and I realize there might’ve been a secret reason why I've put on such a show for him each morning, right there in broad daylight.
“But I haven’t decided yet,” I whisper urgently.
Grogoth doesn’t spare me a glance, his smug expression somehow deepening my raging desire.
“Do we need another minute, sir? And madam?” They address me like an afterthought as they place a platter of little fried balls on the table, along with a dipping bowl of pink-tinted cream lined with juicy cherries.
“Tenderized stone indri and griffin tarte tatin, both with a side of angelfish salad.” Grogoth lazily slides his finger through my slick folds, tracing my clit in a playful circle. He sits stoically as a statue while I shiver in front of the server, biting my lip to stay calm.
“Wonderful to see you’re branching out, sir.” The server beamed at the gargoyle. “Would you like the salads beforehand?”
“Yes.”
Yes?!Good goddess, he’s enjoying this! Toying with me right in front of people! I bite my lip harder to stifle the moan bubbling up from my core. Yep, I definitely have a public kink. A veryurgentone at the moment.
“Excellent. I’ll take your menus. Your food will be out shortly.”
With shaky hands, I pass the menu and smile what I hope is a normal, polite smile.
When Damion leaves, the curtain falls back into position, sliver and all. I grip Grogoth’s solid stone forearm and attempt to ride his hand, but he makes a reproachful sound from the back of his throat.
“P-please. Torture is illegal.”
He laughs, locking in on my sensitive nub. He swirls it, causing my back to arch against the satin cushion, my breasts thrusting into the air.
“If someone sees you acting this way, they will know exactly what’s happening under this tablecloth,” he chides. “Settle down or I’ll be forced to stop.”
“You wouldn't.”
