His lips are pulling up a little. I swear to God, if he smiles, I’m gonna chuck my glass of water in his face. I’m being made to look like a fool.
“Did you think you were the only one I brought here?”
I purse my lips together. “I’ll admit, it was stupid of me to make the assumption that this dinner was for my benefit.”
“You need to relax, Alyssa.”
I can feel the heat rush to my face. “Don’t tell me to relax. I have no interest in being a pawn in your weird little power games. This isn’t dinner; this is a fucking dog-and-pony show. Meant to show that you—”
My words are consumed by a gasp. I grip the edge of the table and try to make sense of what’s happening. It takes me a few seconds, but eventually, I realize that the vibrator inside me is living up to its name, giving off a subtle quiver that I can feel thrumming up my body in subtle little bursts.
I stare open-mouthed at Uri, waiting for an explanation. His eyes are trained on me, bright with intention as he twists his hand around and opens his palm to reveal the little remote that he showed me earlier.
My mouth pops open. “Y-you’re controlling the vibrator?” He nods as I grit my teeth and try to sit still so no one else notices what’s happening. “Well, stop it!”
“Like I said, you really need to relax.”
I try to grab the remote but he pulls it out of my reach smoothly. “Now, now, Alyssa, behave yourself. We’re in public.”
“You’re an asshole!”
He leans in so close that I can smell his cologne. “I’ve brought a lot of other women to this restaurant—” If it weren’t for the vibrator dancing around in my pussy, I’d have popped him one across that smug face. “—and none of them have ever called me an asshole. You don’t have to worry about being one of many, Alyssa. You’re not. You’re one of one.”
I’m not sure if it’s the vibrator or his eyes or the way he says those words but, God help me, it feels suspiciously like a compliment.
The vibrating stops and I sigh with relief. “Can I have the remote, please?” I croak.
“Not a fucking chance.”
I grit my teeth. “Is this your usual M.O.? Force all your dates to wear vibrators so that you can win every argument at the push of a button?”
He snorts. “You’re the first woman I’ve made wear a vibrator to dinner. And as for winning every argument: the women I tend to date don’t argue.”
I squirm in my seat. On top of being annoyed, I’m now soaking wet, too. I wish I could say it was solely the vibrator’s fault, but that’d be a lie by omission. Uri himself has an awful lot to do with it. How is it possible that I want to slap him and kiss him at the same damn time?
“How nice. That must have been so much more comfortable for you.”
“It was,” he says without missing a beat.
“Well, then you should have just asked one of those women out tonight instead of me.”
He smiles slowly. “The thing is, I’d much rather be triggered than comfortable.”
I can feel my body heat up. It doesn’t really help with the situation I’ve got going down south, either.
“I… trigger you?”
He glances at me, his expression giving nothing away. “You aren’t them, Alyssa. You aren’t them by a fucking mile.”
Is that a bad thing? A good thing? I have no freaking clue and I’m worried that asking will make me sound weak and pathetic. So I just sit there and brood, wishing that I could get just a glimpse of what’s going on inside that head of his.
Right when the eye contact between us is getting to be too much, I feel the vibrator start up again. I hadn’t even noticed him push the button. I wiggle in my seat and bite my lip so hard I wonder if it’s going to bleed.
But soon, even that can’t hide the moans.
“Stop…” I stammer. “U-Uri…”
He just smiles calmly, the picture of suave control. But when I lean back and glance at his lap, I realize he’s hard as a rock.
“It’s not gonna stop until I say so, little one. You’ll simply have to sit there and take it.”
My chest feels like it’s about to explode. All the anger I felt a moment ago has dissipated completely. Maybe it’s how he’s never done this with a woman before. Maybe it’s how I can’t resist him.
All I know is that I can’t be angry any longer. How can I be when he’s looking at me like that?
I may regret this ten years from now. I may regret it tomorrow. But for right now, it’s worth it. Even if holding his undivided attention for ten minutes is all I’m gonna get, I’ll take those ten minutes.
And I’ll make sure he remembers them for the rest of his life.
Even after I’m no longer in it.
32
ALYSSA
He teases me throughout the entire dinner.
I never know when the vibrator’s gonna start up again. I never know what setting it’ll be on. The only thing I know is that he’s nowhere close to being done with me.
The salted dark chocolate mousse with thimbleberries hits the table and Uri’s eyes dart straight to me. “Dessert has always been my favorite part of every dinner,” he growls in a raspy voice that makes me think he has a totally different thing in mind when he says “dessert.”
He drapes his hand on my leg and glides it up to my thigh. My goosebumps haven’t gone down since we’ve arrived, and the more he cranks up the vibrator, the less capable I am of producing anything that resembles coherent speech.
“Did you enjoy dinner, narushitel?”
I nod dumbly, waiting for the next round to start up again. So far, I’ve done a great job of curbing my reactions. I’ve turned my moans and gasps into coughs, laughs, sneezes—you name it, I’ve tried it. I have no idea if I’ve been convincing or not. At this point, I’ve lost all objectivity.
I’m also slowly losing any semblance of give-a-fuck energy.
My panties have been drenched since appetizers. I’m sore and throbbing down there and I really, really need a release. He’s pushed me right up to the edge half a dozen different times at this very table and every single time, he pulled back just before I blew.
I’m not sure whether to be pissed off about that or not. On the one hand, I really don’t think I can handle having a full-blown orgasm in a crowded restaurant surrounded by a bunch of Russian mobsters.
On the other hand, I would very much like to come, please.
“Go on,” he encourages. “Try the mousse. I’ll bet you it’s the best thing you’ll ever put in your mouth.”
That statement alone kicks the throbbing in my core up a notch. I pick up a spoon and try the mousse, aware he’s watching me the whole time. It’s thick and rich and chocolatey, with just the right amount of pop from the thimbleberries and just the right amount of spice from the salt.
“Well?” he asks when I lick my lips.
“It’s amazing. Sinfully delicious. But you’re still the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
Shylyssa, Shmylyssa, right? Don’t ask me where that came from, because I have no clue. Apparently, neither does Uri, because his eyes go wide.