“Good.” He rocks his body into mine, and I feel the hard length of him press against my belly. His other hand begins to skate down the length of my dress, resting on the bare skin of my thigh as he starts to rub slow circles.
Alright. Now I am definitely damp and one hundred percent certain that I want those hands rubbing circles a lot higher.
“This okay? Would you like me to go further?” I nod my head again, and his grip tightens. “Words, little dove.”
“Yes, please, go further. Give me more.”
His hand grips the side of my dress, pulling it up. He traces the top of my panties with a single finger, his nail raising goosebumps across my skin. He moves the fabric to the side and, with two fingers, slowly glides the tips along my folds, gathering my arousal.
“Fuck, you’re just dripping. All for me.” He grunts before ripping off his glove and dipping his fingers in.
I inhale sharply, my hand shooting forward to grasp the bicep of his arm that is keeping me upright. His fingers work in an almost lazy curling motion that has my back slowly arching off the door.
I can’t believe I am doing this right now. I can’t believe it feels this good. I can get myself off pretty easily, but this guy is playing my pussy like one of his games. His thumb begins rubbing my clit in time with his fingers, and all I feel is the heat pooling in my stomach turning molten. The pressure builds, and it feels like I’m floating.
“Fuck, Blade, I’m—” I can’t even finish my sentence. My breath stutters.
I feel his fingers slip out a little, and I am about to protest when there is a sharp pull on my clit and my legs spasm as I moan.
His fingers resume their magic, but quicker this time. They pulse into me with a relentless rhythm. He adjusts his angle slightly, and I gasp, squeezing his bicep with a death grip.
“There, right there. Stay there.”
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes.” The word comes out like a hiss.
“Then beg.”
I can barely process what he is saying. My whole body is focused on the tightness coiling inside, winding me higher and higher and higher. The pressure is almost painful. So close. He wants me to beg? I’ll fucking beg.
“Please, Blade. Please let me come.”
He pinches my clit one last time, and I break.
My brain blanks as the orgasm rips through me. Stars shoot through my tightly squeezed eyes, and I feel the strength leave my thighs. This has to be a record. Who makes a person come in just a few minutes?
“Oh my god.”
I hear him chuckle, and I open my eyes to see him tilt the bottom of his mask up. He brings his other hand, still soaked with my arousal, underneath, and I watch as he sucks it clean. “Delicious.”
He then bends down and slides my ruined thong down my legs. I lift my heels one by one to step out of it, and he bunches it up before slipping it into his jacket pocket.
I didn’t think that would turn me on, but the possessiveness of it sparks in my chest. My gaze drops to the bulge in his pants, and a new hunger blooms in my stomach. I reach out to stroke it, feeling it twitch under my touch, but his hand comes to rest on mine.
“No need. Watching you come made this whole show worth it.”
“But I want to.” My voice comes out whiney, but I don’t care. I want to see him come undone, even if I can’t see his face. I want that power, that feeling. I crave it.
“Stevie?” Deanna’s voice fills my ears, and I freeze as I crash back to reality.
“Another time.” He reaches behind me to open the door. “And I’m still waiting on that double whiskey.” He exits the room just as I see Deanna round the corner. Her gaze snags on Blade before it lands on me, and her eyes widen. She rushes to me and smacks my shoulder.
“I was wondering where you were because you missed the last break, but clearly I should’ve just let you be.”
“Sorry, things just,” my brain is failing to catch up, “things just happened.”
“Obviously.” She reaches out to smooth my hair. “Let’s try to make it seem like you weren’t just freshly fucked for when we go back out there.”
“We didn’t fuck.”
“Well, he wasn’t helping you look for cocktail napkins.” I snort as she repositions my dress and smooths it out. “Are you not wearing underwear?”
“Not anymore.” She squeals and smacks my arm again. “Oh my god, Dee, stop. You’re going to bruise me if you keep this up.”
“I expect a full debrief in the morning. Brunch at Glass & Grass.”
“Okay. I have yoga at ten, but let’s meet after.”
“Deal.” She gives me another once over before linking her arm through mine and leading me back out to the floor.
SIX
* * *
ALEKS
“Sydney might just murder you.”
“I pay her too much for her to murder me.”
“I think she’s saved up enough that she might accept the loss.”
It’s times like this that I hate wearing the mask because the death glare I’m giving Jackson right now would normally shut him up.
“Whatever, the ceremony is almost over.” At least I hope it is. We’ve been here almost two hours.
“You should’ve seen Decker’s face when he came back to his table. He was livid.”
I smirk. It’s a universal agreement in our group that Decker is a dick. Even if it weren’t for the fact that he runs in the same circle as the Covingtons—risking Parker’s identity, or that he always hits on Sydney, or that he spent weeks saying I used cheat codes to beat him in a ranked match when I fucking didn’t… Basically, Decker has it out for us, and in return, we have it out for him. And him harassing Stevie is just the icing on the douchebag cake.
I can feel Decker turning back every few minutes to glare at me, something I’m sure the media has picked up on. Maybe I should send Sydney a heads up. I flip my phone over and pull up her contact right as I see Stevie making her way past the nearest champagne cart, whiskey in hand. My still-hard dick twitches at the sight of her, especially knowing that she has nothing on under that dress right now.
“In the next few minutes, we will be announcing the nominees and winners for the Best Breakout Streamer and Streamer of the Year!”
The audience goes wild, their attention wholly focused on Castle. Stevie uses that moment to breeze up to our table, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Double whiskey.” She slides the amber tumbler into my hand, two bar straws swirling around the liquid. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a cocktail napkin, but it drops to the floor and floats under the tablecloth. “Sorry, let me grab that.” She crouches down, but when her hand touches the napkin, she slides it farther under the table, her back arching to follow the momentum.
“And the nominees for Best Breakout Streamer are…”
All noise turns to a muffle as I watch in pure shock as Stevie’s entire body slips under the white tablecloth.
She’s not going to…
I feel her hands on my ankles before they begin to trace their way up my legs, stopping when she reaches the bulge in my pants.