“We’ll take the chocolate soufflé,” I tell him. “To share.”
“You can’t seriously expect me to sit here for another twenty minutes,” Violet says as soon as the waiter walks away
“That’s exactly what I expect.”
Her eyes widen with realization. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Mmm,” I confirm. I want her to sit here, wet and aching for me, imagining everything I’m going to do to her when we get home. The frustration in her eyes only makes me harder, knowing how desperate she’s getting across the table.
“Two can play this game,” she warns, her voice dropping to a whisper as she shifts in her seat.
Before I can respond, her foot begins sliding up my calf. She holds my gaze, challenging me with a raised eyebrow as her toes inch higher, tracing a path toward my inner thigh.
“Careful,” I warn, my voice lower than I intend.
Her foot finds its target, pressing against the growing hardness beneath my slacks. I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles whitening as she applies just enough pressure to drive me crazy.
“Something wrong?” she asks innocently.
I catch her ankle under the table, holding her foot in place. “You feel how hard my cock is right now? If you keep that up, I’m going to bend you over this fucking table and let everyone in this restaurant see exactly what you do to me.”
Her eyes widen to saucers, her foot immediately retreating as she glances around nervously to see if anyone hears me. “You win,” she whispers, her cheeks flaming scarlet. “God, you win.”
I smirk, victorious but equally affected. The waiter arrives with our soufflé, setting it between us with two spoons. Neither of us moves to touch it.
“Check, please,” I say without taking my eyes off her. The waiter gives a curt nod before walking away.
“You better hurry up and eat that dessert,” I say, nodding toward the untouched dish between us, “or I’m going to make good on every single promise I just made to you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
I pull out my wallet and drop enough cash on the table to cover the bill and a generous tip. “Try me.”
She grabs her spoon, scooping up a bite of chocolate soufflé and bringing it to her lips. The way her mouth closes around the spoon has my dick straining against my slacks.
I lean back in my chair, watching her take another bite. “Five.”
She pauses mid-chew, eyes darting to mine. “What?”
“I’m giving you five seconds to finish that.” I keep my voice low. “Five.”
“Rowan—”
“Four.”
She scoops up another hurried bite. A drop of chocolate lingers at the corner of her mouth, and I have to grip the armrest to keep from leaning across the table and licking it off.
“Three.”
“You’re insane,” she whispers, but she’s already setting down her spoon and reaching for her clutch.
“Two.”
She stands, smoothing down her dress with trembling hands. The movement makes the fabric cling to her curves in a way that has my cock throbbing against my zipper.
“One.”
I’m on my feet before the word fully leaves my mouth, my hand finding the small of her back as I guide her toward the exit. The hostess smiles at us as we pass, completely oblivious to the fact that I’m about two seconds away from putting on a show for the entire restaurant to see.