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After what feels like hours of exquisite torture, Ford slowly withdraws his fingers, and I almost whimper at the loss. The emptiness he leaves behind only makes me more aware of what he just did as my pussy walls clench around nothing. I watch with my heart in my throat as he lifts his hand above the table, his fingers glistening slightly.

With deliberate casualness, he brings one finger to his mouth, and his tongue darts out to taste me. The sight of him savoring my arousal right here in front of his entire family makes my heart thud heavily against my ribs.

He leans over again, pretending to strategize about the game, his shoulder brushing mine in a way that seems innocent but sends electricity shooting through me.

“Your body doesn’t lie, Spitfire.” His breath is scorching against my ear. The way he says my nickname—low and rough—makes me shiver despite the heat flooding my veins. “You’re so fucking turned on right now, aren’t you? So wet and ready for me. I can still taste how sweet you are.”

I bite back a whimper at his filthy words. He sits back with a satisfied smirk that makes me want to both slap him and beg him to touch me again, to finish what he started.

The game continues around us, laughter and good-natured banter filling the room, but I’m lost in a haze of arousal so thick I can barely think straight. My heart rate starts to slow slightly as we move on to the next round, and I foolishly think maybe Ford is done tormenting me.

I’m so very wrong.

He reaches casually for one of the candy canes from the festive bowl on the table, unwrapping the cellophane with infuriating patience. The crinkling sound seems unnaturally loud to my hypersensitive ears. I watch, mesmerized, as he brings the curved candy to his mouth and wraps his lips around the end. The way he sucks on it makes my imagination spiral into filthy territory, and when he notices that he’s got my attention, he pulls it from his mouth and presses the flat of his tongue against it. He licks it several times, slow and deliberate, as he holds my gaze.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry while other parts of me grow much, much wetter.

Everyone else at the table is currently distracted by a heated debate about historical dates, and Ford glances around quickly, then slips the candy cane beneath the table.

My eyes widen, and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from gasping out loud as the curved end of the candy cane, still wet from his mouth, finds my clit through the soaked lace of my panties.

The first contact makes my entire body jolt, and I make a tiny noise in my throat as he teases me with it. He uses the perfect hook shape to trace circles around my swollen clit, the smooth candy gliding over the fabric in a way that makes my vision blur at the edges.

“Ford…” I breathe, his name barely a whisper.

“Shh,” he murmurs without even glancing my way, his attention seemingly focused on the game. His voice carries just a hint of amusement, as if he’s enjoying my struggle to keep my composure. “Careful not to give us away. Although I have to say, watching you try to keep quiet is almost as entertaining as making you fall apart.”

He slips the smooth candy beneath my panties, pushing the damp lace aside, and the cool peppermint makes direct contact with my clit. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced—smooth and slick as he circles my clit with methodical precision. The candy warms quickly against my heated skin, becoming slippery with my arousal as he works it against me in slow, torturous strokes.

I do everything in my power to keep my expression neutral, but it’s nearly impossible when every cell in my body is screaming for release. Every nerve ending is focused laser-sharp on what Ford is doing to me under the table. I try to contribute to our team’s discussion when prompted, but my voice comes out breathy and strained. The candy cane slides against my swollen clit, the coolness of it adding an extra dimension to the sensation that makes my toes curl.

Ford varies his technique enough to always keep me guessing, sometimes using broad strokes that cover my entire clit, other times focusing the pointed tip on just the most sensitive spot until I’m trembling with the effort of staying still. Then he travels lower, the tapered end teasing my entrance with feather-light touches that make my thighs go tense. He pushes just the very tip inside me, not nearly enough to satisfy but more than enough to send my pulse into overdrive.

“Maeve, what do you think the answer is?” Liam asks suddenly, and I nearly launch myself out of my chair. The candy cane slips deeper inside my pussy at my sudden movement, and I dig my nails into my palm to keep from moaning.

“I—” My voice comes out strangled and rough, my throat tight with the effort of staying quiet while Ford continues his sweet torture between my legs. I clear my throat and try again, praying my tone sounds somewhat normal. “Sorry, I was just… thinking through all the options.”

Ford’s eyes are gleaming with wicked amusement as he watches me struggle to form a coherent sentence while he systematically destroys my composure.

He twists the candy cane slightly, using the curved end to hook against that perfect spot inside me, and I fake a coughing fit to cover the soft moan that escapes my throat. My face burns with the effort of acting normal while my body betrays me, my nipples hardening to painful peaks beneath my sweater, my breathing shallow and quick despite my best efforts to control it.

Liam doesn’t seem to notice anything unusual, thankfully, too distracted by his competitive nature. But when I glance around the room, I catch Gabriel watching me with knowing, heated eyes. His gaze travels deliberately from my flushed face down to where one of my hands is gripping the table, and my stomach flips as I realize that he must’ve figured out exactly what’s happening beneath this table.

The fact that Gabriel knows—that he’s watching Ford subtly torment me and clearly enjoying every second of the show—sends a fresh wave of arousal rushing through me. My inner walls flutter around the candy cane, and it’s all I can do not to whimper his name.

Ford must sense how close I’m getting to the edge because he leans over again, ostensibly to whisper something about team strategy.

“Come for me,” he commands softly, his breath hot against my ear. “Right here, right now, while everyone’s watching. Show me just how good you are at keeping our dirty little secret.”

The combination of his filthy words, Gabriel’s scorching stare, and the relentless pressure of the candy cane against my aching clit finally pushes me over the edge.

I come with a sharp gasp that I belatedly try to disguise as another cough, my body curving forward slightly as waves of pleasure crash over me. My hands clench into white-knuckled fists, and I bite my lip hard enough that I’m afraid I’ll break the skin.

“Maeve, are you okay?” Ford asks, raising his voice to a normal level as he gives me a concerned look. although his eyes sparkle with smug satisfaction. “You look a little… flushed.”

“I’m fine.” The words come out breathy and weak, my pussy still pulsing with aftershocks, my thighs clenched together in a futile attempt to ease the throbbing. “I think I might still be getting over that flu bug. Maybe I should go rest for a bit.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Ford’s mother says, giving me a kind nod. “Go lie down. We’ll be here when you feel better.”