Page 51 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

It was sweet and a little raw, him telling me that, and it turned me on, and I still didn't follow. "I know, Ricardo. And I told you, next time at the club we can leave the door open." The thought of someone watching us pulsed through me. Still hard to believe these were my thoughts. "Or in a month. I think I could get there."

He shook his head, the smile spreading. "No. Here. At the restaurant."

Now I was lost. "What at the restaurant?" I looked around the dim room. A quiet nook, sure, but people everywhere. This was too public. "Ricardo, anyone could see us."

"Look at the table."

I looked down. Was he talking about doing something on it?

"Do you trust me?"

I didn't, entirely. I was also so aroused I could barely hold still. "Promise me. Whatever you're planning, we don't get caught."

"Nobody's going to know." He nodded at my seat. "Scoot to the edge."

"The edge?"

"Just do it, Lacey."

I slid forward, and before I'd finished the thought, his hand was under the hem of my dress and hooking my panties at the hip.

"Ricardo!" I grabbed his wrist. What the hell?

"Lift up. Come on." He was smiling, already tugging, and I could hear how badly he wanted it, the plea right under the words, and God, that was the thing about him, he wanted me so much he couldn't wait for me to catch up.

I pushed his hand away. “I’ll do it, don’t make a scene.” I lifted my hips before I had time to chicken out, and the fabric slid down my thighs, my knees, off over my heels. Was he going to finger me, right under the table? The idea was thrilling, taboo. “Okay, now what?” I asked.

He grinned at me like a boy who'd gotten away with something.

Then he was gone, sliding down under the table!

What is he doing? "Ricardo," I hissed, leaning toward the cloth. "Ricardo, get back up here."

"Pretend nothing's happening." His voice came muffled through the drape. "Nobody can see me."

I looked up and around, feeling like there must be a neon sign over my head, but nobody was looking. Then I leaned and looked at the table. He was right, the tablecloth fell to the floor.

His hands found the insides of my thighs, warm and steady, no sign of nerves or doubt. I put it down to how much he wanted this, how long he'd held the fantasy.

“Relax, Lacey,” he whispered. “Let me do this for you.” For me?

But I did relax. His hands eased my knees apart, gentle. Why am I letting him? My breath came in short shallow catches. Because I want it. The answer arrived so fast I almost flinched from it. Fuck yes, I did want this.

A waiter drifted near, caught my eye, started over. I waved him off, hoping he didn’t see panic in my face.

Then Ricardo's breath landed on the inside of my knee, his lips after it. Did I look strange? Was I sitting wrong? I scanned the room. Nobody cared. For years I'd lived like everyone was watching, and nobody was, and nobody cared, and the realization was almost as good as his mouth.

His lips moved up my thigh, soft and hot, and I was ready, my heart going hard. He nudged my legs wider and I let him. I wanted to sink back into the booth and knew it would look wrong. Then his breath on my wetness, warm, and just as it landed I heard the voice above me.

"More wine, ma'am?"

I startled, eyes open. A different waiter. Ugh! "No. I'm fine."

The waiter tipped his head. "And the gentleman?"

"He had to step out for a call. He'll be back. I'm fine." The last word broke as Ricardo's mouth touched me. Restaurant politeness above the cloth, chaos beneath it. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to run. I wanted to sink into his mouth.

The waiter gave me a small, confused look. "Excuse me, I have to make a call," I said, my voice almost normal, and grabbed my phone. He left. I put it to my ear as Ricardo's tongue found me and an electric jolt went through my whole body. I held still, ground my teeth. My eyes wanted to close and I made them stay open. I needed to see the room. Needed proof this was really happening, that I was the woman letting it.