Page 33 of Good Girl

“Three, two, one.”

The vibe dies down during the last few seconds, and I both hate and love that it’s finally fucking off. The mindfuck is real. Like, it was borderline painful on my clit, but holy shit, I’d wanted it to go on forever.

Pin me down, spread my legs, and vibe that clit for life.

My bones feel like Jell-O. The first orgasm in the fitting room was a-fucking-mazing. But this one? The way they fucked with the settings dragged it way the fuck out. By the time I actually came, my clit was screaming.

Arms scoop beneath my legs, and I’m deposited onto Darcy’s lap. His woodsy scent, tinged with the faint scent of something really clean, aided in my orgasm and now feels like a warm cuddle. Or is that his arms around me?

“You okay, princess?”

I nod, lazily. “Yeah, that was so good.”

He chuckles. “It looked like it was more than good.”

I roll my head back to look up at him. “It was good. Last night’s orgasm was better.”

My mouth goes dry when his eyes darken with lust, just like one of my billionaire book boyfriends.

Hello, Angel.

“You’ll be getting more orgasms like last night when we get back to the apartment. For now, you’ll need to suffer through.”

I pout, feeling a little ridiculous but leaning into it when I see him trying to hold back his smile. “Fine.”

“Can I take your order?”

Dylan is back, her eyes carefully trained on her notepad. I try to get off Darcy’s lap, but his hand clamps down on my thigh and slowly moves up toward my panties.

My clit gives a painful throb, and I become very aware that my panties are wet. Soaked through is probably a better description. I squirm at the uncomfortable feeling. It’s only then that I feel the hard dick under my ass.

Darcy makes a noise in the back of his throat but doesn’t move to stop me. So, I wiggle again.

“We’ll take a classic tomato bruschetta to share,” Derek says. “And I’ll have the grilled Guancia di Manzo.”

Darcy’s hand moves all the way up to my panties, and before I can stop him from touching the wet fabric, he twists his finger under the edge and slides it straight into my still hungry pussy.

“The grilled octopus stracciatella,” rumbles Xavier.

With the toy in the way, Darcy can’t do too much without dislodging it. “These panties are awfully wet, princess.”

I whimper as he crooks his finger, jostling the vibrator just enough to graze my clit.

“The aragosta cocktail for me.”

Hudson’s order barely registers as I rock my hips, which has the added benefit of making Darcy finger fuck me.

Like I’m not grinding all over his lap, Darcy places his order, his voice clear of any strain. “Ravioli Amarticana.” Somehow, he manages to slip a second finger in as he gives my hip a squeeze. “And you, princess? What are you going to eat?”

The fucker continues to slide his fingers in and out of me, and I scramble to think of something. “Spaghetti carbonara, please.”

Dylan can’t get away from our table fast enough, and I don’t miss the way Xavier shoots a look at Derek. Derek simply stares back, and I wish I could understand their silent conversation. But the subtext is flying right over my head, and with Darcy actively pumping his fingers in and out of me, not even trying to be subtle now, I don’t care to work it out.

My entire core is overheated, like it’s questioning whether I really want to start the climb to the top again, when it’s already allowing itself to get hot and bothered.

“Emmy’s panties are soaked,” Darcy announces to the table, and I stutter out a laugh, my cheeks burning as I turn my face into his chest to hide. “I think she should take them off.”

I stiffen and lean back. “W-what? No, I can’t walk around in public with a vibrator inside of me and no underwear on.”

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