“You shouldn’t mind a little public exposure,” Ethan says, his grin evil. “Not after what we heard you doing in that empty Gladius classroom.”

“I—”

As she starts to speak, I hike my hand up her leg. Her protest is swallowed by her moan. Damn, her skin is so fucking soft.

I slide my fingers higher up her dress and spread my legs a little, forcing her legs wider apart. Kissing her cheek, I whisper, “Get ready to come on my fingers, little girl.”

“This is embarrassing,” she says with a little whimper.

Ethan’s evil grin grows bigger. He calls, “Hey, Roman! Bring over your buddy and introduce him to us.”

“Just a sec,” Roman calls back, pointing at the bar where he’s waiting for Betty to fill his drink order.

“Wait, what?” Maisie asks. “I don’t know—”

“You want to come,” I say, “and we want to chat with our buddy. I’m going to touch you now, baby girl, and make you feel good.”

And with that, I hook my finger into her panties and tug them aside so I can pet that soft, silky pussy.

She gasps. “Oh, yes.”

“Oh, yes?” I repeat. “I thought you weren’t sure about this.”

Her chin juts out. Stubborn little thing. “Fine,” she says, “but you better make it good.”

“It’s going to be un-fucking-forgettable,” Ethan says, grabbing her knee and hooking it over mine. He holds it there to keep her legs spread.

She glares, but whatever sassy comeback she was about to share is forgotten as I plunge my finger into her wetness.

* * *

Maisie

Chance’s fingers are working magic, sliding inside of me, then back out again to spread my wetness around my clit. It feels so good, I almost want to ask for lessons so I can do this on my own.

A private tutoring session from my professors. Sounds legit.

The Viking god and his friend are stalking toward us. Thankfully the table hides most of what we’re doing. The only person who could possibly have a view of this is the woman at the next table, wearing a leash and collar and sitting on the floor at her partner’s feet.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby girl,” Chance whispers.

Speech has left me. I don’t know how to talk.

Their friend reaches the table with his companion. A knowing grin on his face tells me he knows exactly what they’ve walked up to. My face must be bright enough to match my lipstick at this point, but this feels so freaking good, I don’t want Chance to stop.

“Roman, this is Maisie,” Chance says, his voice light and friendly. “Maisie, this is Roman.”

“Nice to meet you,” Roman says, although he doesn’t shake my hand. Which is good. That would just be weird. But it means he really must know what’s happening beneath this table and he doesn’t want to push any limits.

“You, too,” I say, trying not to sound like I’m holding in a moan.

Roman says, “This is my buddy Hunter.”

“Glad to meet you,” Chance says, and Ethan gives the other man a nod. “Do you work with Roman, Hunter?”

“Yeah, I’m at Ironwood.” Hunter has blondish-brown hair that looks like it would flop into his light brown eyes if it weren’t held in check by his sunglasses. He glances at Roman and goes on, “It’s been, what, two years now?”

“Sounds about right,” Roman says.