We'd been talking about it for a week. Or, more accurately--I'd been talking about it. Roman mostly just watched me get wet over the idea and smiled like a man who'd already made the decision days ago.
"Just say it," he murmured into my ear last night, cock buried deep, his palm pressed to my throat as I rode him. "You want her."
"I want you to fuck me while she watches," I'd gasped, nails dragging down his abs. "Then I want to taste her while you're still inside me."
He came so hard he bit my shoulder.
Now it was Saturday.
Caffeind buzzed with its usual low murmur--soft jazz on the speakers, the hiss of espresso shots being pulled, the clink of cups and silverware. Outside, sunshine poured through the windows. Inside, I was trying not to come in a public place.
Trying.
Failing.
Roman's hand was between my thighs again.
We were at the corner table--half-hidden, dark wood, legs close enough to brush. I wore a short little skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, no panties underneath. Roman had insisted. "You want her to notice?" he'd said that morning. "Dress like you want to be fucked."
So I did.
The second we sat, his hand had found its way under the table, under my skirt, and now it was pressed between my legs, two thick fingers gliding up and down my slick slit, lazy and slow, not enough friction to push me over.
Just enough to torture me.
I clenched my thighs around his wrist. "You're such a dick," I hissed, trying to keep my voice down.
He smirked and looked at me sideways, the pads of his fingers grazing my clit again. "You're the one dripping through the seat, baby. I'm just keeping you entertained."
"People can see us--"
"No, they can't." He leaned in, breath hot against my ear. "But they will. When you start moaning and grinding like a needy little slut."
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.
"Look up," he said, fingers dipping into me slow--just the tip--then retreating. "She's watching."
I looked.
Jade stood behind the counter, one hand on her hip, the other gripping a steaming pitcher. Her gaze was locked on us. On me. On the way my body tensed and twitched in my chair like I was barely keeping still. I couldn't tell if she was smirking, or if that was just the shape her mouth made when she was thinking dirty things.
"I think she knows," Roman murmured. "Think she knows how fucking wet you are? How you're clenching every time I tease this needy little cunt?"
He pressed the pads of his fingers right to my opening--didn't push in, just circled, rubbed, slicking them with my arousal.
"She knows," I whispered. "She has to."
"She should know what it sounds like when you break," he muttered, fingers tapping my clit now, fast, light, maddening. "But not yet."
