His responding look scolds me into submission. I take a breath and adjust myself in the comfortable seat. The downy fabric hides a layer of overly soft stuffing, great for napping after a heavy meal.
Just when I think I’m under control again, he inserts the finger he’d teased me with. It may only be one, but it feels like two to me. All of my experience has been with other humans. If his hand is anything to judge the rest of him by, I should probably worry about the tree trunk that must be under his trousers.
Grogoth fucks me with his finger like it’s just good etiquette. Meanwhile, my knuckles are in white fists around my utensils. When he adds another and starts to massage my walls with a hitch and a curve, my feeble whimper barely has time to dissipate before Damion returns with the salads.
“Here you are, then. Please don’t hesitate to ring me if you need anything.”
The server barely glances my way, so I must be doing all right at pretending not to be so close to shattering. I let out a long breath and lean back, rolling my head toward Grogoth.
“You have something to say, do you, sweet one?” The look in his eye is downright devilish. “Use your words.”
I open my mouth to respond, but that damned gargoyle changes his rhythm. He scissors his fingers ashe pumps in and out, working my cunt until my hips refuse to stay still.
“M-more.”
“More, what?”
“More, please!”
“Hmmm.” He obliges with a smirk. I want to climb on top of him and force his cock inside, to ride him until that smug expression is wiped from his face.
I squeeze his hand with my thighs, holding his forearm so tightly I feel my nails trying to chip his stone. My pussy is soaking wet now, his fingers squelching as he plunders me in secret.
He eases a third finger inside, my pussy stretching around him. My vision blurs, but I accidentally make eye contact with the server, headed their way.
I cough and once again try to collect myself, but Damion no doubt saw the I’m-gonna-cum face I was making a mere moment ago.
“The kitchen is out of angelfish dressing.” The server’s gaze lingers on me before resting on Grogoth. “Chef Lennae suggests the frost dressing instead, or you may choose something else off the menu. She sends her deepest apologies.”
I giggle. Another interruption. Of course. Below the table, Grogoth chastises me with an agonizing flick of my clit. I gasp, then quickly slap a smile on my face.
“Chef Lennae’s suggestion is fine,” Grogoth says. Nothing about him suggests he’s affected by our dirty little secret. The server smiles and nods, casting a strange side-eye at me as he leaves.
“He must think me odd,” I giggle.
“Then you’re being too obvious.”
“Do you mean to make me c-c-cum—oohh!” He picks up the pace of his brutal finger-fucking and my eyes loll again, my hand dropping to his. My hips spasm, so close, I’m so close!
“I merely intend to share a meal,” he deadpans. “But I will be saving my place for later.”
“S-saving? Whaa—”
“Eyes ahead.”
I snap to attention, righting myself though it’s hard to breathe. Damion and two attendants with large platters rush into the room. Momentarily, I’m distracted by the incredible scents and the tantalizing display of food. I even manage a bright thank you and an emphatic nod when asked if everything looked all right.
But as soon as the curtain closes, leaving behind a gap doubly as wide as before, Grogoth slides a third finger inside my sopping pussy.
“Oh, goddess!” I whisper desperately. “Please!”
“Words.”
“Please, let me cum!”
“No.”
Chapter Five
