Page 79 of David's Chase

What’s not to like?

His hands palm my breasts while his lips hover over the root of my neck.He tenderly kisses his way up my neck while kneading my chest.

My knees turn to butter while his lips reach mine.

Our breaths taste like mint and sugar as we slowly kiss.

Everything happens in slow motion. The kiss, his hands moving against my chest, and his knee pushing between mine.

My full skirt obscures his move, so nothing looks suspicious––and I doubt anyone’s looking––when he sneaks his hand under my skirt and runs his fingers up my thigh.

A quiver moves through me as he trails my skin unhindered and touches the apex of my thighs.

“Don’t move,” he says against my lips while he slowly pulls the band of fabric between my legs to the side and touches my warm, wet flesh.

My chest tilts up and down with a troubled breath.

“You will come for me now,” he whispers in my ear while I let my shoulders sag and tilt my head back, my eyes half closed.

Is he serious? No one can do that.

Holding my eyes, he nods a few times in reassurance.

He slowly strokes my clit before moving his touch to my entrance.

I’m so afraid to move and give myself away that I stay rigid, not batting a lash.

“See… You know how it’s done.”

I don’t know how it’s done.

I have no idea how it’s done. And no matter how skilled he is, my brain won’t allow me to enjoy myself and take that ride up before going down and crashing.

His eyes do to me what his fingers do to me.

He’s an expert at making me lust after him without remorse, and we might regret this at some point, but that moment is far in the future.

That’s how it feels while he teases my clit and spreads the moisture around my entrance.

“David…” I say evenly as if his fingers don’t slide between my legs, his hand doesn’t cup my left breast, and his lips don’t move up my neck.

It all looks normal, as if he’s doing nothing to me, despite his fingers on my boob and, more importantly, his other hand under my skirt.

The man to my left glances over his shoulder when he orders another drink and gets a glimpse of us, but his focus doesn’t move below my chin.

He seems to get what’s going on, though, and I expect him to whisk his friend away, swagger across the room, and leave us exposed to prying eyes, but my fears are totally unfounded.

Not only does he not do that, but he pivots to block his friend’s view.

Perfectly aware of that, David presses his hand into my crotch, and I barely stop myself from pushing out a crying moan.

I scold him, my hands wrapped around his shoulders.

“What did I tell you?” he says, fully rubbing the spot between my legs.

“I can’t do it here,” I say quietly.

“You can, and you will. Think about all these people watching us.”

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