The Private Serials Box Set (21 page)

 I exhaled a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding and my shoulders sagged when I felt his thumb making soft and slow circles on my sensitive skin just under the hem of my dress, silently asking me to do as he wanted, to let him in.

 When I finally relented, gave in to him, a whimper escaped my lips as my knees fell apart. My muscles rejoiced as the stinging stopped, but new, more powerful sensations were flooding my system with every inch he gained up my thigh. His skin grazing along mine tickled in the most arousing way, prickled with the promise of pleasure, and the anticipation was nearly a physical being sitting at the table with us, it was that powerful.

 I finally became brave enough to lift my gaze to him, only to find he was paying no attention to me above the table. He had no interest in conversation anymore or even to glance my way. The farther up my leg his hand roamed, the quicker my breaths came and the faster my heart thundered in my chest. I reached for my water glass, pausing at my lips as one of his fingers lightly grazed the length of my sex. Just barely and just enough for my eyes to flutter closed.

 They immediately snapped open when I heard the waiter ask Preston if everything was fine with our meal. Simultaneously, Preston slid one finger inside me while answering the waiter with a, “Yes, everything is fantastic. Thank you.”

 I was paralyzed with the fear we would be caught, but also frozen from the thrill of feeling him inside me, feeling something very private in this very public place.

 The waiter smiled and walked away, leaving us to presumably enjoy our dinner. I looked at Preston and he picked up his fork and continued to eat his pasta, his finger still pressed fully inside me.

 He swallowed and then said, “Your food is getting cold, sweetheart.”

 “You want me to eat while you finger me?”

 “No, I want to give you an experience you’ve never had before. I want to watch you writhe and squirm and sweat, all the while fearing someone will catch us.” He moved his finger out, but then pumped back in again, this time with two. My hand slapped down on the table, palm open, making an obnoxiously loud “thwack”. A few people turned their heads toward us, but turned away when they saw nothing of consequence.

 “Preston, please,” I said quietly as his fingers retreated again, this time coming forward and circling my clit.

 “Tell me what you want, Lena.”

 His question was tied together with so many layers of meaning I was lost between them. Did I want him to stop finger fucking me in public? Maybe? Did I want to be with him in the way he was asking? Probably. Did I want to take the plunge to make these things happen? No. Not right now.

 “You can’t do it,” he whispered as his fingers dove back into me, this time pumping back and forth in tight, swift blows. “Until you’re absolutely sure what you want, I’m going to take what I need from you.” He leaned toward me, pressing a kiss to my cheek, and from anyone else’s perspective in the restaurant I’m sure it looked innocent enough, but then his mouth moved to my ear and he whispered, “I’ll do whatever you want, Lena. You just have to let me know.”

 With that, his fingers reprised their slow thrusts while the heel of his palm began a firm, circular grind against my clit. I was thoroughly wet and only getting wetter. If I listened closely enough, I could hear the sounds our bodies were making from rubbing against each other and even though I knew, soon enough, others might start to hear, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

 I started to daze, one hand gripping the arm of my chair, the other wrapped around my water glass as if I were about to lift it to my mouth. In and out. Around and around. He was slowly building me toward an orgasm that would surely have me screaming the roof off this high-brow, classy restaurant.

 In an effort to control myself, I lifted the water glass to my lips and sipped the water slowly. Preston shifted, his fingers sliding in even farther, then he curled his fingers, hitting an elusive bundle of nerves head-on, causing me to moan into my water.

 I clamped my legs closed, trying to stave him off, trying to stop what I knew was inevitably unstoppable. Even with my knees locked together he still managed to continue to finger me at the dinner table. My clamped legs seemed to actually just keep his hand right where he wanted it. My life was compounding at that very moment. Everything was colliding and I had no control. The only thing I could do was let Preston lead me. Trust him to show me the right way.

 In an instant, I put the water glass down, grabbed the cloth napkin from my lap, and tried as gracefully and inconspicuously as I could to groan into it.

 I came ridiculously hard and surprisingly quietly. With my release came the relaxation which freed Preston’s hand from my pussy just long enough for him to lift his hand and suck his fingers into his mouth, never breaking his gaze from mine. Even coming down from a shattering orgasm, even just after coming in a room full of strangers, I was still ridiculously turned on by his blatant sexuality, and would have climbed on top of him had we been in a different setting.

 We didn’t say another word to each other until we left the building. The longer we sat at the table, him ignoring what had just happened, the longer my emotions had to advance from being sated, to confused, to full of rage.

 He held my coat up for me and I shoved my arms through the sleeves violently, then I took loud and hard steps through the restaurant, my heels clacking along the tile floor, until we were out on the street and I was walking at a fast clip.

 “Hey, Lena, wait.” He sounded like every other man I’d ever heard try to deal with an angry woman; like frustration mixed with fear. He didn’t know how to handle me angry.

 “Wait for what, exactly?” I shouted back to him.

 “Wait for me. Look,” he said, jogging up next to me. His hand wrapped around my arm, stopping me, and he turned my body to face him. “I’m sorry.”

 I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, you’re not.”

 “Well, not one hundred percent, no…” His voice trailed off and I yanked my arm free.

 “Ugh. Just take me home, Preston,” I said as I continued to march down the street. He caught up, keeping pace with me but not reaching out to touch me.

 “You’re not going back to your house, Lena.”

 I sighed loudly, realizing even though he thought I meant I wanted to go back to the house I shared with Derrek, I’d really meant his condo. It figured that when I was really angry with him I’d have a Freudian slip.

 “Fine, we’ll go to your house, but you’re sleeping on the couch.” I turned the corner and entered the parking garage where he’d parked his Lotus. I made it to the elevator and the doors opened for us immediately. Once inside we stood at opposite ends of the car and while I maintained my best angry face, when I stole glances at him, he still looked confused and a little distraught.

 The elevator doors opened and I walked out, heading right for the Lotus.

 “What is it you’re angry about, exactly? It seemed like you enjoyed yourself in there.” He yelled across the parking structure, his voice echoing throughout.

 “Enjoyed myself?” I turned on him, my dress flaring up around my knees, hair fanning out.

 “You came hard, sweetheart,” he said with a smug grin.

 “Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Preston. You did that to me even though you knew I didn’t want you to.”

 Suddenly, he was right in front of me, pressing my back against his car, his front pressing into mine.

 “You can be angry at me any day, Lena. You can throw your cute as fuck tantrums and stomp around, throwing your sass around like it weighs a ton, but don’t ever insinuate that I forced you to do something you weren’t onboard with.”

 “I was uncomfortable,” I managed, even though I was sure my voice was too small to be heard.

 “Good. You’ve been comfortable for far too long, from what I can tell. I wanted to make you uncomfortable, I wanted to show you that sometimes it’s okay to trust me.” As his words fell from his mouth, his eyes softened, as did his grip on my waist. One hand came to cup my cheek and his gentleness caught me off guard. “I would have stopped if you’d told me, if you’d even said anything remotely close to no. But you enjoyed it and that’s okay, Lena. In fact, it was amazing. Watching you fall apart, knowing no one else in that room knew what I was doing to you. It was hotter than fucking anything I’ve ever seen before.” His thumb moved back and forth over my cheekbone, his tenderness melting the residual anger I felt just moments before. “Are you upset because it happened, or are you upset because it felt good to let me be in control?” His face came close and his forehead rested against mine, waiting for me to respond.

 “I’ve been lost for so long, Preston. It’s scary to all of a sudden be front and center, experiencing things for the first time with someone new.” I inhaled, trying to find my next words. “And I did like what you did to me, after I got over the initial shock of it all. I’m sorry if I insinuated it was forced, it wasn’t. Highly discouraged, perhaps,” I said, a smile tilting the corner of my mouth upward.

 “I’m not going to hurt you.”

 “That’s not a promise you can make to me.”

 “Perhaps not. But I can make it to myself. All I’ve ever asked you for was your trust.”

 “And my panties,” I giggled, finally feeling the pressure of our argument falling away.

 “Lena, I’m serious.” His other hand came up and both were now on my face. “If I know you trust me, and you know I’ll always protect you, then there’s nothing else to discuss.”

 I looked him deep in his eyes, which always reminded me of chocolate, trying for the life of me to make the right decision. Trying to decide the course of my life in a parking garage, pushed up against a man’s car, who had my panties tucked in his front pocket.

 I leaned my forehead against his again and brought my hands to his chest. “Don’t make me regret this.”

 “Regret what?” he said, his voice full of hope.

 “This. Us. Moving forward, together.”

 His eyes lit up and his mouth found mine. He wasted no time taking the kiss deep, his tongue taking wide and delicious sweeps through my mouth. He growled as his hands moved down to wrap around my neck and his hips pressed into mine. I was reminded, again, that I wasn’t wearing panties.

 “Not here,” I whispered against his lips, having met my limit on exhibitionism for one night. He kissed me again, softer this time, less needy. When he pulled away, there was a handsome smile on his face that made him look younger somehow, as if my agreeing to living with him had altered him.

 “Let’s go home, then.” His smile only grew with his words.

 “Let’s,” I agreed.

Chapter Eight

 The next morning, I was awoken by the vibration of my cell phone from across the room. It was still in my purse, which had been flung to the floor before I had been flung on the bed. I hadn’t been allowed to leave the bed for hours after, as Preston made it his mission to make me come as many times as possible in just as many positions.

 I was surprised the phone wasn’t dead, but ambled slowly to my purse to see who had the nerve to bother me so early. It was a text from Derrek.

**Meet me at the house at eight am. Come alone and tell no one. Your future hangs in the balance. Make the right choice.**

 When I walked into the house, I knew Derrek was there. I could feel his smarmy presence making the air in the house dark and dank. I placed my purse on the hall tree by the door and took my jacket off, laying it over my purse.

 “Lena, is that you?” Derrek’s voice echoed through the house as if it were empty. It wasn’t, of course, all our belongings were still there, but the house
was
empty. There was no family living there any longer, no warm feelings, and no life. It was just a very expensive storage locker for all the physical representations of a life we were both desperately trying to leave behind.

 I didn’t answer him but I did follow his voice. I wasn’t surprised at all when it led me to his office. When I saw him sitting at his desk, for the slightest moment I was struck with how handsome he looked. He’d always appeared powerful to me, always seemed as if he was in charge, and I knew that had attracted me to him. But just as quickly as my mind noticed the things about him I found appealing, it was remembering all the things I’d learned in the last few weeks that made my stomach roil. On the outside, he looked like the perfect package, but on the inside, I knew he was rotten.

 “Lena, I’m glad you got my message and decided to meet with me.” He steepled his fingers in front of his face, his eyes roaming up and down my body, taking me in. I held back a disgusted shiver; his lingering glare making me nauseous.

 “What do you want, Derrek?” I asked, not trying to hide my annoyance at being beckoned by him.

 “Take a seat. I think it’s time we had a real discussion.” I held his glare for a moment, not sure I wanted to follow any instruction he threw at me. I decided, however, that I wanted this ‘discussion’ over as soon as possible, so I moved to sit in the club chair opposite his desk. Once I was seated I laced my fingers together and set my hands in my lap.

 “Lena,” he started, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve had a lot of fun over the last couple of weeks playing this game with you, but I think it’s time it came to an end. Although, now, I wish it weren’t the truth, I married a smart woman and I am tiring of watching you play dumb. The game was entertaining in the beginning, but it’s becoming a burden, so I suggest we end it. Now.”

 I blinked at him, not letting my face give anything away.

 “I’m not really sure what you’re referring to, Derrek.”

 “Really? You’re still going to play dumb? I would have pegged you differently. Surely you want to tell me off, give me what-for. I know you have things you want to say to me.”

 I still kept quiet.

 “Fine. Have it your way, although my way would have been much more fun.” He pulled a sheet of paper from a folder sitting on his desk, flipped it around, and slid it toward me with a pen. “This is a contract explaining that you agree to a divorce, leaving me everything, and you will not contest the divorce proceedings or file any further suit to gain any monetary or physical belongings gained during our silly, pathetic excuse for a marriage.”