“Devan—” I have to swallow hard and try again. “Devan, this bra costs an absurd amount of money. I’ve never even worn it before.”
“Bill me,” he repeats.
While I’m still processing what just happened, he reaches between my thighs and palms my pussy. “I won’t lie, I like touching you like this. Like the thought of you in a short little skirt with these tease of panties on, just waiting for my hand to make you feel good.” He tugs the fabric to the side. “I like thinking about doing this while we’re out to brunch. No one has to know that I’ve got two fingers deep inside you while you’re eating those pancakes you like so much. No one has to know that you’re about to come all over my palm as you drink one of those fucking fruity brunch drinks.”
“Mimosas,” I gasp.
“Yeah. Mimosas.”
I weave on my feet and have to grab his shoulders. I like what he’s describing. I crave it. It’s really too damn bad it’s never going to happen. “I think you have a panty fetish.”
“Only for you.” He hooks his fingers around the center of them and tugs them down my thighs. “But I want unfettered access to your sweet pussy for the rest of the evening, so these have to go.”
“I’m not going to argue with that.”
“Good, because you don’t have a choice.” He finishes removing my panties and slides them into his pocket. “I’m keeping these.”
“Like I said—panty fetish.” Something strange and uncomfortable takes up residence in my throat. Something that feels a whole lot like jealousy. “I bet you have a whole drawer of them back at your place.”
Devan leans back and looks at me. I can’t read the expression on his face. “That street goes both ways. You’re just packing a spare set of designer lingerie around?” He shakes his head. “Seems like you were planning to leave this hotel room and jump right into bed with your next partner.”
I don’t know if we’re playing or not. I honestly can’t tell. This feels all too real in a way that I don’t know how to deal with. Is he jealous of the thought of me with other people? Or is he just playing into what he thinks is a fantasy? If I was braver, I’d ask.
I’m not brave. No matter what I project to the world, I’m a fucking coward at heart.
“And what if I am?” The words are out before I can think better of them or call them back. I’ve gone too far to change my mind now. I’m too stubborn to admit I don’t know if I want to go down this path. The other fantasies were close to the truth, yes, but those events already happened differently. Rewriting them is safe, in a way. The stakes are so much lower.
Playing out a fantasy set in the here and now?
That’s something else altogether.
Maybe we should just stick to the birthday plan. I have the body paint ready to go. It would be so much safer to put on the brakes and guide us back to those scenarios.
Devan runs his knuckles up and down my hips before I can decide if I want to suggest it. “What if you’re planning on leaving this hotel room and jumping into bed with someone else.”
It’s not quite a question, but I nod. “Yes. What then?”
He frowns, a tightness working its way into his jaw and shoulders. Those dark eyes search my face, and I have the uncomfortable feeling that he’s seeing right through me. Finally, he shakes his head slowly. “You’re taunting me.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
God, why did I say that?
Why can’t I keep from snapping at him like a creature with its leg caught in a trap? We only have so much time. Surely I can keep myself from ruining it? I have to.
“You’re taunting me,” he repeats. He takes my hips, the tiniest of pressures that brings me closer, inch by inch, until I’m straddling one of his big thighs. His slow smile has a cruel edge that makes things low in my stomach clench. “You want me to fly into a jealous rage, toss you on that bed, and fuck you while telling you that no other cock will make you feel like I do.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. It takes swallowing hard before I’m able to speak. “You’ve already said that earlier. That no other cock will compare.”
“Earlier was different and you know it.”
I do know it. I was just thinking the same thing, after all.
Devan smooths his hands over my hips. “That’s not the problem though, is it?” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, just keeps digging around inside my chest with his words. “You don’t like the thought of me with other people. Quite hypocritical of you, birthday girl.”