Then again, if she came four times between the two of us last night, I’m probably still underestimating her sexual appetite just because I keep pigeon-holing her into this sweet category. Moira’s gotta have a little bit of kinkiness in her to enjoy what she enjoys—maybe even to be with Seb in the first place.
“Now we’re all alone in the bathroom,” she continues. “Me, I’m a little drunk, a little vulnerable. I don’t immediately understand why you locked the door. I don’t really care.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s already depraved, and my cock is already rising at her enjoyment of her own story.
“Then you walk me back up against the wall, pin my arms above me at the wrist while you slide your hand down the front of my jeans.” She covers her mouth with one hand, feigning shock. “I’m not wearing any panties.”
Where is the fucking duck? I’m ready to cancel the rest of the damn order and just haul her ass out of here. At this rate, she might attack me in the car, and the whole point of this night was to do this right. I want to get her home first.
“You sure are happy now. You cover me with your hand and slide a finger inside me.” She lets out a little noise, half sigh, half moan. “I’m already wet for you, Griff.”
“Fuck me,” I mutter. I finally catch sight of the water, so I wave him over.
Moira grins. “I didn’t get to finish my story. What are you doing?”
“I’m very interested in this story, but we need to get you that dessert.”
The waiter approaches, appearing confused. “Did you need something, sir?”
“Yes, I need you to box up the chicken and the duck. Can you just bring out the dessert? We’re sort of... in a hurry.”
He fails to bite back a smile. “I bet you are. I’ll see what I can do.”
I sigh, raking a hand through my hair as he walks away.
Moira looks quite pleased with herself. She tilts her glass back and drains the last drops of liquid, then she sets it down and tells me, “I can’t wait to have your cock inside me, Griff.”
“You are the devil,” I inform her.
She grins at me across the table. “There’s a reason Sebastian calls me his little minx.”
“How do you go from housewife to sex kitten on a dime like that?” I ask, shaking my head.
Moira smirks. “Lots of practice. Little bit of alcohol doesn’t hurt.”
Through sheer force of will, we finish dessert. We make it back to the house and stumble through the front door. Moira already has her arms looped around my neck, her lips attached to mine.
I taste the faintest trace of dessert on her lips. Her kisses are like crème brûlée—molten sweetness that I want more of as soon as it’s gone.
Now her lips are gone, and I feel bereft. She only broke away to shove her coat off though, then she’s back, pulling herself even closer, her sweet lips brushing mine. I can’t shake the idea that this can’t be real. I can’t shake the feeling of being an imposter here, of stealing a spot in a life that doesn’t belong to me with a woman who isn’t mine to kiss.
It’s only night one, I remind myself.
Well, night two if last night counts. I guess it has to.
Moira breaks away with a little smile and takes my hand so she can lead me up the stairs. It reminds me of that night a few weeks ago when she picked me up and brought me back here.
I remember she’s wearing a black lacy thong and nothing else beneath that dress. I can’t wait to see that.
Turns out, I don’t have to wait long. As soon as we’re in the bedroom, Moira turns her back to me. “Unzip me, please.”
I’ve always liked this part. It’s so intimate, being in the bedroom with a woman, helping her undress. Moira’s bare shoulders are too tempting to pass up; I bend to kiss my way across them, running my fingers lightly down her arms. Her soft sigh of pleasure is like a salve to my battered ego. Moira’s used to Seb, and here she is reveling in my touch.
Once I’m done kissing her, I grab the zipper and pull it down, revealing inch after inch of exposed skin. Moira tugs the dress down past her hips and shimmies right out of it. She tosses me a saucy smile over her shoulder, then bends at the waist to grab the dress. She lingers, giving me a painfully good view of her ass in that black lacy thong she told me about.
I grab her hips and yank her back against me, making her feel how hard I am. Her blue eyes look darker as she turns back to face me, lust written all across her pretty features.
“You want me, Griff?” she teases.