“Get off me.”
“I’ll take that bet,” Bastian says from a few feet away. “I’ll put my money on yes. She’s turned on.”
“I’m not. Let me go.”
“Why would we do that? Where would be the fun in letting you go, little Dandelion?” Bastian says.
“Stop calling me that.”
“Back to the question at hand. Are you willing to bet that you’re not turned on?” I ask.
“I tell you what, let’s just see,” Bastian says. “If she’s not turned on, we stop now. But if she is, well, she may just need some encouragement. Maybe she’s just shy,” he says to me.
“Maybe,” I taunt.
“I’m not shy. Let me go.”
“We can discuss this for days, but there’s really only one way to know for sure,” I say. “I’ll just have a little look, and we can put this to rest.”
“What?” she asks, panicked.
I drag my free hand up along her inner thigh, under her dress, and over the crotch of her panties.
“What the hell are you doing?” she demands to know.
“Aroused or not? You want to tell me, or you want me to see for myself?”
“I get the feeling she wants you to see for yourself,” Bastian says, clearly enjoying this.
I move my finger over the outside of her panties and feel how her clit has swollen. Feel her dampness.
“This can’t be happening,” she says.
Bastian leans against the wall. “Maybe give her some incentive to come clean.”
“Good idea,” I say. “You admit it, and I’ll make you come. Right here, right now.”
“I don’t want to come!”
“Everyone wants to come, sweetheart. It’s what makes the world go around.” This isn’t how I expected tonight to go, but like I told Bruno earlier, I’m flexible. “Just a quick look it is, then…” I trail off and slip my fingers inside the crotch of her panties only to hear her whimper as I circle her clit and watch her bright, disbelieving eyes. “Oh, little Dandelion.” I cluck my tongue, rubbing her clit until her mouth falls open, her breathing coming in gasps. “Brother.” I don’t shift my gaze from her. “Are you seeing this?”
“Can’t look away.”
“You like that, Dandelion? Like my fingers on you?”
“I…” She swallows hard. “No.”
“No?” I draw my fingers out and bring them to my nose. I inhale, then lick them, tasting her. “You are definitely wet. There is no denying it. But if it makes you feel better, I’m hard for you too,” I tell her, pressing myself against her.
“Get the hell away from me.”
I smear my fingers over her lips, then release her. Walking back to my desk, I pick up my whiskey and drink a long swallow.
“Let me ask you another question.”
“I’m not answering any of your fucking questions.”
“This one is about your brother.” I turn back to find her still standing where I left her, still looking shell-shocked. My brother leans against the wall a few feet from her, arms folded, eyes dark on her.