Page 42 of Devotion

A breath shudders from my lips. “But people are looking.”

He chuffs a quiet laugh that makes my nipples harden just a little more. “My only concern, the only thing that matters right now,” he rasps, “is making you come.”

He pushes his fingers deeper, and I whimper, fighting the urge to touch him, to feel his hardening cock in my hand.

“Do you have any idea how often I think about your pussy? How soft and wet it must be? How it would grip my dick as I let my hot cum pump into you?”

I squirm on the seat, adopting his fantasy, imagining every filthy detail.

He churns his fingers in, brushing my clit with his thumb, sending me into a full-blown mental spiral. His kills flash into my thoughts, one by one. But then I pause on the last, the one he likes to think we designed together. The librarian’s stare is emblazoned in my memory, and it’s as though she’s watching, knowing what we did together, knowing what we’redoingtogether. Immediately, I feel dirty and ashamed. But it surprises me how much of a fucking turn-on that is.

I push against Damien’s hand, causing more friction when the need to orgasm nearly makes me black out. My eyes are fixed on the crowd, sweat-soaked bodies grinding together beneath colorful lights. From VIP, looking down on everyone else, I can see everything. And it’s as though they feel our sexual energy seeping into the room, feeding their own lust as we quench ours. At the thought of it, I feel myself getting closer.

So close it takes a moment to register that a familiar face has just come through the entrance.

A gasp leaves me, and the side of my neck cools when Damien stops kissing me. His fingers never miss a beat, though. Not even when he follows my gaze straight to Martinez.

“Hmm,” he groans, and I’m not sure how to read the sound. “Do you want me to stop?”

His voice is low and even, so calm I don’t feel an ounce of panic as Martinez—flanked by two of his friends—searches the room for me, craning his neck in all directions as he scans one face after another. Eventually, he reaches for his phone, and half a second later mine vibrates in my clutch.

“Should I stop?” Damien asks again. This time, sterner than before.

I weigh my options, considering the fact that Martinez could easily spot me up here, with a gorgeous man’s hand wedged between my legs. Or… we could keep going.

I don’t answer Damien’s question with words. Instead, I open my legs wider in invitation.

A satisfied grin curves his lips just before they press to my ear. “That’s my girl.”

Within seconds, I feel the butterflies. In my stomach, lower. When my pussy clenches around his fingers, and I turn into the crook of his neck to whimper, he knows I’m coming. For him. Just like he wanted.

“You feel so fucking good, Layla. So fucking wet and tight. Do you have any idea what I’d do if you let me have my way with you?”

The question flutters into my thoughts as a million tiny fireworks detonate behind my eyelids. Just as I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve ever had an orgasm that lasted this long, it finally begins to subside, releasing me from its chokehold.

There’s this sense of mourning that I mask when Damien slips his fingers out of me, giving my inner thigh a quick squeeze. And then he does possibly the single-most sexy thing I’ve ever experienced in my life, a simple gesture that will probably linger with me far longer than anything else. Before removing his jacket from across my lap, he discreetly tugs the hem of my dress down to protect my modesty.

What’s left of it anyway.

My eyes settle on his, and the act of chivalry also feels like he’s staking his claim, protecting what he believes to be his.

He stands, and my eyes follow him to full height. On our call, he stated that he’s six-foot-four, but he somehow seems even taller than that. Watching him slink into his jacket in this suave, unhurried way is a major turn on. He wears a suit well.Verywell, actually. I’m also trying not to focus on the bulge at the front of his pants where a very persistent erection is barely kept in check by his underwear. But by the time my eyes flit to his again, he’s already smiling, which means I’ve been caught.

“Just say where and when, angel. Whatever you need from me, whatever youwantfrom me… I’m more than willing to give it.”

I clear my throat as a rush of embarrassment probably has my cheeks turning bright red.

He finishes adjusting his jacket, then extends his hand, helping me out of the booth and onto my feet. I’m still a bit off balance, but I do my best to hide it.

Martinez is still searching, dialing me again, but I’m feeling surprisingly disconnected from him now. Even more so than I’ve already felt lately.

Damien casually slips one hand into his pocket, and the other warms the small of my back. My nipples harden against the satin lining of my dress when he leans in to whisper.

“I’ll see you soon.”

I’m slightly more sober-minded than a moment ago, so I give an answer that sounds more like me.

“This cannot, andwillnot, happen again.”

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