I look away.
He rubs his fingers into my clit. “Look at me, baby.”
I bite down on my lip, trying to shift away. “B-Brayden. Stop. Please.”
Sucking on his bottom lip, he rubs my clit again, soft circles that almost make me levitate off my damn seat. “You need to come, Kitty. Let me give it to you. I’m dying for it.”
“St-stop. People . . . my friends.”
“I’m keeping an eye out. Don’t worry about that. Just feel me.”
I do. I feel what he’s doing to me everywhere, each light stroke driving me crazier. Pressing my legs together does nothing but trap his hand there, right up against my aching core.
The pleasure spikes. My hips rock into his hand. I’m too hungry to fight this. The desperation claws at my soul, ripping my resolve from me.
Brayden grabs my hand and pulls it under his arm, laying it over his lap.
One feel of him, rock-hard, the fleshy tip twitching under dark blue denim—I fall into his side, shaking. My hand clenches around him.
I want it.
Fuck, I haven’t had it yet, and it feels like I live for that dick.
He groans deep in his chest, the sound pure gravel.
My eyes lock on the side of his neck, on the clear imprint of teeth. My teeth. I bit own on that spot last night, marked him as mine.
I want to give him more.
Want to bite that big, hard body everywhere.
I want to sink my teeth into him while the huge length in my hand pounds into my *.
My hand squeezes him, sliding up and down, loving the feel of him.
“Fuck, Kitty. Wait,” he whispers in a wild tone; I look at him. He’s staring straight ahead, his expression neutral, but his eyes are unfocused with lust. The veins on his thick neck bulge, the skin bright red. “Baby, stop. I’m going to lose control.” He tries to pry my hand away from his dick.
I refuse to let him. His fingers are still playing with my clit, making it throb harder. “No. Give this to me.”
He hisses at my words. “It’s yours. Whenever you want it.”
I want it now. I want him to drag me off somewhere and slide it into me. Give it to me rough and raw so I can finally fucking forget him.
“Baby, you have to let me go,” Brayden pleads quietly.
I love this. Love having him under my control, his sanity shredding apart bit by bit because of me.
In other words: I love knowing I can do to him what he does to me.
Hiding my face behind his shoulder, I moan. “Brayden, it’s . . . God, I’m going to . . .”
“I will too if you don’t let me go, and I won’t be able to control it. Kitty, you have to let me go.”
All his urgent tone does is turn me on more. “I want this.” I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore—can’t understand the magnitude of what I’m confessing. The consequences it will have. “I want this cock.”
“Fuck.” He rubs my clit harder. Faster . . . “Tell me to take you somewhere and give it to you. You know you want it, Kira. You want that tight little * grabbing onto my cock.”
I wish I could refute that.
I want to demand he do exactly as he said.
I’m too weak to do any of that.
Biting into the back of his shoulder with all my strength, I swallow back a scream, falling apart, coming so hard my legs go numb as sensation arcs through me.
And, oh God, I’m coming in a restaurant, in plain view of anyone that could happen to look, and I can’t stop fucking coming.
So good. Yes. I bite down harder into his skin.
Brayden yanks my hand off him. Tension shoots through his body.
Even half-gone, I know what it means.
Someone’s coming.
The fear that my friends might see us jerks me upright. I stare down at my lap, trying to use my hair to hide my most likely flushed face.
I reach for his hand, wrapping my fingers around his wrist to remove it from between my legs.
A giggle.
A sound I know very well. One that makes me sick to my stomach.
My head jerks up at that evil, malicious, almost fucking witchy sound.
“Hi, Brayden!” Jennifer stops at our table, her face glowing at the sight of him.
I can’t stop hating her. Can’t get over it. I don’t think I’ve ever despised anyone as much as I despise her.
Instead of pushing his hand away, I press it closer. It’s instinctual, a bitter impulse I have no control over. I don’t want him to forget it was my * he was just begging for.
His hand snaps around my mound roughly, an utterly possessive grip that steals my breath.
And then I realize why.
Austin stops next to Jennifer, eyeing me and Brayden.
I go weak, my hold on Brayden’s hand loosening.
Austin’s hanging out with Jennifer?
Nausea rolls inside me.
Austin’s eyes meet mine, and guilt flashes in them. That is, until he looks away, locking eyes with Brayden.
Both men size each other up, and if I didn’t feel so sick, I might be worried about them attacking each other.
“What are you doing here, Brayden?” Jennifer doesn’t even try to distance herself from Austin before she smiles flirtatiously at Brayden.
That fucking bitch. Is she trying to make Brayden jealous?