Page 150 of Intense
I take a breath. “You know my money from the strip club? I donated every cent to women’s shelters.”
His hand lands on my thigh, squeezing. “Particular reason?”
I swallow. “I have a past, Finn. When I said I’d made sacrifices to get here, I didn’t mean studying instead of going out. I had nothing, and I did some… things.”
He grabs my chin, making me face him. “Things you do to survive aren’t mistakes. Our pasts make us. They can ruin us if we let them.”
That sadness in his voice tells me enough. I don’t press.
Between breaking his no-touch rule and these cracks in his armor, I know one day he’ll tell me what happened to him.
“So… burgers?” I say, changing the subject.
Chapter 49
FINN
Itake the booth in the far corner, the one with a clear line to every exit. Always. She slides in next to me, crossing her legs, lips glossed and begging for trouble.
The waitress drops menus we don’t need.
“You said burgers,” I remind her, leaning my forearms on the table.
She bites her bottom lip. “That was before you got me worked up in the parking lot. Now all I can think about is you bending me over this table.” She bats her lashes at me.
Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.
The waitress comes back, takes our order, and leaves us in the low hum of clinking cutlery and soft music. My eyes never leave hers, even when she tries to look away.
Under the table, my hand slides across, over her knee, and up her thigh.
Her breath hitches.
“Finn—”
“Wait for your food like a good girl,” I murmur, my thumb stroking the soft skin just above her hemline. “You will finish every last bite, while I get you nice and ready for me.”
The corner of her mouth lifts. “Yes, sir.”
I push her legs apart, heat radiating from her through thin fabric. Already wet. My fingers trace her pussy, slow enough to make her tremble.
When the burgers arrive, she picks hers up, trying to look casual. First bite, she closes her eyes, so I slip two fingers under the edge of her panties and into her.
She jolts. I hook my foot around her ankle to keep her steady.
“That’s it, love. Take another bite,” I coax, curling my fingers just right.
One of my observations over time has been that Stephanie doesn’t really eat. At work, it’s barely a snack all day. And now that I know about her second job, I struggle to see when she has time to cook.
So, I’ve made a note to make sure my wife eats. Her body is perfect. But I don’t want her getting sick. I need to make sure she’s healthy. That she makes time for herself. I need to look after her.
She takes another mouthful. Sauce clings to her lips, her cheeks flushed as she tries to chew when every nerve in her body is telling her to moan.
The waitress sets my whiskey and her fries down. Stephanie thanks her without breaking eye contact with me. Good girl.
I work her slow, then faster, keeping her right at the edge. She grips her burger like it’s her lifeline. Every shift of her hips presses her closer into my hand.
“You look beautiful like this,” I murmur. “Trying so hard to be good for me. But, you’re being very, very naughty letting me do this in public.”
