She groans, sending fingernails trailing down my back. The sensation sends my lips crashing over hers all the harder.
Without warning, Amelia pulls her head away. She doesn’t step out of my hands, though, and her face is a storm. My heart pummels the inside of my rib cage so hard that, if I wasn’t so worried that I’m about to watch her walk away, it would hurt.
Just as suddenly as she put space between us, she steps close again, putting her lips to my ear. “I want more than your kisses.” Her voice is as rough as mine was a moment ago. “Will you give me more?”
I caress the side of her face, tucking one of those wild curls behind her ear. “I’ll give you anything you want.” And I mean it. I feel like I’m living out a fate that began with my parents’ love story. Unlikely as it was, theirs has stood the test of time. I dare to believe the same is possible with Amelia. Everything that I am is hers, if she wants it.
Without another word, she snatches my hand and whirls on a heel, tugging me in her wake. I walk after her like the devotee that I already am, willing to follow wherever she leads. But a large part of me hopes that, tonight, that means to her bed.
Amelia marches with purpose. She knows exactly where she wants to go, it’s a tiny booth with high wooden seat backs in the darkest corner of Desperado’s. She slides in without relinquishing my hand, so I join her on the same side.
As soon as we’re in, she turns on me, burying her fingers in my hair and guiding my face to hers. My cock jumps when her touch trails over my neck and keeps traveling south. She releases the top two closed buttons of my shirt and spreads a palm over the heated flesh of my chest. I moan into her mouth, circling her low back with my arms and getting her pelvis as close to me as the cramped booth allows.
Her hand emerges from my shirt and wanders down my belly as she nips my lip. My breath catches when she finds the bulge in my pants and massages it. She smiles at my reaction, adding pressure to her hand movements. My jeans are fast becoming painfully restrictive, and my body demands that I free myself from such unnecessary vestments as clothing.
But I can’t. We can’t. Not here.
And not yet. I’m not in this for a hand job. I want to explode into Amelia, if she is willing. And before that, I want to watch her writhe with pleasure.
Her ministrations to my dick grow more insistent. I catch the orb of one of her breasts in a hand. My thumb finds the areola, and I pinch and twist at it through her dress.
The distraction works. Her hand grows still while her torso sways with each panting breath, attention wholly on my touch.
I’m not finished with her yet. With the other hand, I steal below the hem of her dress, brushing the top of her thigh. She shivers. To my delight, her legs fall open, an invitation.
I take my time trailing my fingers from between her knees toward her pleasure center, still fondling her breast. She’s not wearing pantyhose, making my job easier. When I reach the place where her legs meet, I encounter a lace barrier that’s already damp. I lean against her opening, loving how she shudders.
“Are you wet for me?” I murmur.
She nods. Her chest rises and falls like the ocean, her anticipation almost palpable.
“Do you want me to touch you—“ I apply more pressure beneath the table “—right here in Desperado’s?”
I can guess her answer, but I need to hear her say it. While I’m not a blushing virgin, this is so far outside the realm of my experience that I can’t go further without absolute certainty that she’s wants this as much as I do.
Another nod. “Yes, Tatum. Please.” Her voice hitches on the last word, trembling for a moment between desire and something like sorrow, and I hesitate. But then her hand falls back to my groin and kneads with insistence that urges me to give her what she wants.
So I reposition us on the bench, one arm curling around her shoulders as the other remains, concealed by the table, beneath her dress. Taking a deep inhalation to soothe my own wild desires, if only for a little while, I pull her lacy panties to the side and dive into her wetness.
Amelia
My head falls against Tatum’s shoulder as he enters me for the first time. My breath is a cacophony as he explores the parts of me that have been so neglected. His fingers massage my outer lips, then tease inside my slit. His thumb finds the bundle of nerves at the apex of my opening. I clutch his leg on my one side and the seat on the other in an attempt to brace myself and keep my body from bucking.
My eyes want to slide shut so I can focus my attention on Tatum’s touch. But I know that I would lose all control if I did. So I keep them open, watching the bar scene without truly seeing it, attention turned inward.
There’s so much to feel. He spreads me, then slides deep before coaxing my clit toward a climax I can already feel building. Desire coils in my belly and spirals downward, homing in on where Tatum’s fingers work my most intimate place. The fact that we’re in public heightens every sensation, making the invisible hairs on my arms stand tall.
“Is this how you thought tonight would go?” he murmurs, lips moving against my ear. “With a stranger pleasuring you in public?”
I think over the day’s events, how Randall’s abandonment of me led to this moment. My stomach twists. If I’d married Randall, I wouldn’t have felt — wouldn’t still feel — so fucking hurt. But if he’d stayed by my side, I never would have met Tatum. The thought of missing this encounter slices through me with the sting of a knife.
I barely know him, but the possibility of never having Tatum in my life is somehow strange, impossible. We were meant to be, if only for tonight.
“No,” I answer honestly, voice jagged as he flicks my sensitive nub. “But I’m glad it has.” I crane my neck to look at him. “And you don’t feel like a stranger.”
Mischief simmers in his eyes. He works his fingers fast over my clitoris and I gasp while he grins. But when he speaks, his tone is serious. “You don’t feel like a stranger either. You feel like everything I’ve been waiting for, but never knew existed.”
I nod. At least, I try to. Because now Tatum has three fingers inside me, thrusting deep while his thumb presses my button. My slick walls pull at him, hating when he slides away, then welcoming him back home. My caring about other people noticing fades as that corkscrew in my belly spirals all the tighter. I turn my head to him and bury my face in his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. His smell simultaneously steadies and arouses me.
And then, with one last nudge at my clit, I’m cascading around Tatum’s buried fingers in a clenching climax, groaning my orgasm song into his skin beneath the sound of the band.
Tatum
Amelia’s body is at once hard and soft against mine as she quakes in pleasure. My eyes rove the room to ascertain if anyone has noticed our sexcapades, but I see no raised brows or mouths dangling wide in shock.
Amelia cranes her head so she can look at me. Her insides twitch around my fingers with the echoes of her orgasm. Her gaze roams my face, lips parted as if words are about to roll from them. In the end, she reaches for my mouth with hers, and I feel how much warmer she is now that I’ve sent her spiraling into pleasure.