Page 25 of A Little Broken

Smiling around the spoon, he glances at the front of the restaurant. “Did I?”

“Yup, pretty sure.”

The two workers are busy flirting with each other, oblivious to our presence. They’re probably counting down the minutes to the end of their shift when they can finally hook up, and why wouldn’t they? It’s Saturday night. They want to go home. And honestly, we should probably leave, too.

“Or maybe I’m in it for the long game.” Standing, Pax rounds the edge of the booth and slides into my side.

“What are you doing?” I scoot a little further back so he has room on the cushion.

“Delivering one of your birthday presents.”

As he corners me in the booth, a breathless laugh slips out of me. “Pax, I was kidding.”

“About the pegging, sure.” His hand hits my thigh. “Everything else? I guess I’m here to call your bluff.”

Ooookay, shit just got real. And don’t get me wrong. The idea of being finger-banged at an empty restaurant is a solid bean-flicking fantasy, but actually going through with it? I mean, I’m not crazy.

Am I?

My amusement withers like a flower in winter, though I’m anything but cold.

The air charges around us, and my eyes fall to his hand. I shift in my seat, staring at the contrast of his tan, weathered hands, compared to my milky thighs. “What bluff?” I breathe out.

“That you were kidding about wanting a solid orgasm or two.” He slides his hand a little higher. “Tell me to stop.”

My attention shoots to the workers, still oblivious. “You should know I won’t fake it.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.” He slips his hand further up my thigh, making my body tremble with interest. “You wet for me, Birthday Girl?”

I keep my eyes on his and spread my legs a little further apart. “Why don’t you find out?”

Heat flickers in his coffee-colored eyes, turning them even darker. Hotter. Brighter. “Fuck, I want to kiss you.”

I swallow, the blaze from his body seeping into mine as my opposite shoulder presses into the wall. “Then why don’t you?”

“Because if I kiss you, I have a feeling I’ll want to fuck you.” His mouth hovers an inch above mine, and his fingers trace the outline of my underwear. He’s playing with me. Teasing me. Toying with me. And holy shit, is it working. I feel like I’m on fire. Like every subtle brush of his fingers is stoking the flames inside of me, leaving me hot and bothered and more on edge than I have any right to be when he’s barely touched me.

“And even though you clearly like it down and dirty,” he whispers, “I think you deserve a bed so I can worship you fully.”

“Who says I need worshipping?”

His chuckle is low and throaty, causing my core to tighten. “Anyone who ever tries to convince you otherwise, send them to me.”

Body aching, I whisper, “And what will you do?”

“Let them watch as I worship you.”

Fuck. The image alone is enough to make me come, but I force the feeling back, watching his chest expand on an unsteady breath. At least I’m not the only one affected right now. So, why isn’t he doing anything about it?

“Let them watch you worship me, huh?” I breathe out. “That’s pretty big talk for a man who isn’t fingering me.”

“I guess watching you ride my hand will have to do.” He presses the tip against my entrance, the scrap of lace acting asthe only barrier between us. My hips lift on instinct, longing for more pressure. Eyes hooded, he growls, “You’re soaked.”

“Am I?”

I scoot back a little more, and open my legs further, silently begging him to put me out of my misery. As if he can sense how on edge I already am, he drags his knuckles along my slit, then pushes my thong aside. The cool air makes me gasp, and he tilts his head, moving in for a kiss. Finally. I lift my head to meet him halfway, but instead of closing the last bit of distance, he pushes his forefinger into me. My lips part.

“Fuck.” The word is nothing but air, but he hears it nonetheless, and I fight the urge to let my eyes roll back in my head as another wave of pleasure crashes through me. It’s stronger than before. Sharper. And I swear if he stops, I’ll knee him in the balls.

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