"About sex."
"You don't want your sister to know you're wearing my lingerie under your dress?"
Fuck. I shake my head.
"Or that I'm not going to fuck you until you're begging."
And I'm going to beg. We both know that.
He's teasing me.
But I can tease him too. "No. I don't want her to know I've been fucking myself thinking about the taste of your cock."
His pupils dilate.
"Thinking about sneaking to a secluded part of the restaurant, dropping to my knees, sucking you off." I tap my cell screen so it's showing her number. Hold it out to him.
Desire spills over his expression, but he stays strong. Holds his poker face. "You want the risk of getting caught?"
"I think about it."
He copies the number into his phone. Taps a text.
My cell buzzes instantly.
Sienna: Your boyfriend just texted me.
Indigo: I know. I'm right here.
Sienna: And you'll be mad if I ask him for details?
Indigo: I'm going to ask you not to.
Sienna: Boring!
Indigo: Is that a no?
Sienna: No, I'll be a good sister. If you give me one detail. Something juicy.
Juicy.
What am I okay with her knowing?
Sienna: I just looked up his net worth and holy fuck! You are going to put a ring on it, right?
He chuckles as his cell buzzes.
Oh god. "What did she say?"
"Nothing important." He slips his phone into his pocket. Brings his hand to my cheek.
I look up into his eyes. "You keep daring me to beg you like it means you win somehow."
"Do I?"
I nod. "But that isn't how I feel." I press my hand to his thigh. "If I go like this…" I drag my fingertips up his thigh.
He grabs my wrist.
My sex clenches. "If I say, Ty, please… Please fuck me. Come in my mouth. Bend me over this bench and fuck me until I'm screaming. Please, sir, I'll take whatever you're willing to give."
He brings my hand to his hardening cock.
Fuck. I might be pushing him too far, but I don't care. I need this. "It makes me wet."
Something changes in his posture. Some reserve of his falls away. "Why do you think I ask you to beg?"
"Because you think it means you win some game we're playing."
"I do." He motions for me to rise. When I do, he pulls me into his lap. Slips his hand under my dress. Presses his palm against my sex. "We both win."
"What if you beg?"
"I won't beg."
"What if you do?"
"I won't." He pulls me into a deep kiss as he rubs me over the lingerie.
I kiss him back.
He rubs me harder, pressing the lace against my clit. It's softer than his hand, but somehow harder too.
I'm already wound so tight. I'm sure I'm going to come right here, right now.
"Ty…"
His lips find my neck. A soft kiss. Then the scrape.
"Do we have time?"
"No." He keeps his hand where it is. Draws another slow circle around my clit. Scrapes his teeth against my neck.
Daring me.
Always daring me.
And this is it—
I tell him to stop or I beg him to finish.
Does it matter that I have time? Sienna will wait.
My phone buzzes against the seat.
Fuck. "Why did you invite her?"
"Are you asking me to stop?"
I should. That's the smart thing. The reasonable thing.
But I don't want to be reasonable.
"No," I whisper.
"Good girl." He slips his fingers under my lingerie.
My body catches flame.
Yes.
Hell yes.
Every yes.
I'm already wound so tight. I'm already so desperately in need of him.
A few more circles and I'm on the edge.
So, so, fucking close.
Then his teeth scrape my neck and I'm there.
I groan his name as I come on his hand.
He works me through my orgasm. Adjusts my dress. Straightens.
Brings his hands to his lips. Sucks the taste of me from his fingers.
"I have something for you." He taps his cell screen a few times. Shows something to me. A recent STD test.
It's a promise.
And I want everything in it. Now.
I don't care that Sienna's arrival is imminent. I don't care that I'm meeting his family.
I only care about satisfaction.
I'm worse than my sister.
Than any guy.
"Are you safe?" he asks.
I nod. "I have a test. From my last yearly."
"Are you on birth control?"
"No," I say. "But I can be."
"Is that what you want?"
"If it means you'll come inside me." My nails curl into my palms. "I've never done that before." I know he has, with his ex-fiancée, so I don't ask. "Will you?"
He nods. "After."
"Next weekend?"
He chuckles. "What are you going to do?"
"For birth control?"
"Yes." His posture changes. Not serious, exactly, but matter-of-fact. No longer toying with my desire. "You don't want to have children with me."
"I just meant—"
"I know what you meant. I'm not offended."
I'm not sure I believe him.
"Even if you felt differently, if we agreed to different terms—" he swallows hard. "I'd want to wait."
Right. That's reasonable. And I'm not going to linger on the subtext in his sentence. That he would still have children with me if I felt differently.