The Dare Collection August 2019. Christy McKellen

by a lascivious third party, my thighs spread a fraction.

      ‘What are you doing?’ I whisper, while bubbles of adrenaline pop in my veins.

      His thumb strokes back and forth over my feverish skin with the familiarity and comfort of a lover, as if it’s one of the million touches we share as a couple. But we’re not a couple. We know only the superficial facts about each other. And this somehow adds to the potent hormonal mix.

      He looks up from the menu as if I’ve requested nothing more banal than the time. ‘I can’t keep my hands off you, and you must have had more than one fantasy—I want details.’

      It’s so matter-of-fact, I’m sure my mouth hangs open, while all I can do is nod.

      ‘I can’t stop thinking about this morning,’ he says. ‘About what other fantasies you have. And just knowing you might be bare under here...’ His stare darkens and he presses a silencing finger to my lips. ‘Don’t tell me—I want to find out for myself.’ Then his attention flicks back to the menu while his fingers grip, pressing into my thigh like brands.

      I check how low the white linen tablecloth drops, ensuring whatever he has planned won’t be witnessed by the rest of the diners. I slide a cursory stare over the menu, the bone-melting lust stealing my decision-making capabilities. Not that food could make it past my tight throat. ‘The chicken looks good.’

      ‘Mmm...’ he murmurs, his hand inching higher while he peruses the à la carte menu. ‘I think I’ll have the lamb.’ He closes his menu and returns the intensity of his focus to me.

      I can’t help the shudder. I bite my lip and reach for my wine to cover my reaction.

      ‘Feeling okay?’ He too takes a swallow, the bob of his Adam’s apple mesmerising.

      ‘Fine.’ About to combust, but fine.

      ‘You feel better than fine to me.’ His fingers stroke. His stare burns. His voice scrapes. Then slowly and deliberately he says, ‘Open.’

      One low, seductive word and I jump to his bidding as if I’m a conditioned lab rat desperate for my reward, spreading my thighs a fraction more so he can continue the caress of his palm.

      ‘So smooth and silky and warm.’ He leans in, lowering his voice to an intimate whisper. ‘And now I know what awaits me at the top of this thigh... I’m struggling to work up much of an appetite for food, unless it’s for dessert.’

      The look on his face—pure, unrestrained lust combined with his stark declaration—drags a squeak from me and I lower my shaking wine glass to the table. My heart thuds as I struggle for breath around the intrusive visions of having Reid’s cock in my mouth, having him desperate and out of control and as needy as I feel right now.

      ‘Penny for your dirty thoughts,’ he growls.

      How does he know? How can he turn me on so effortlessly? How can I want him so fiercely?

      I rest my elbow on the table and lean closer. ‘I want your cock in my mouth.’

      His fingers still, eyes blazing with lust.

      I continue, spinning out the fantasy I can tell turns him on, too. ‘I used to dream about coming to the Faulkner, finding you alone in your office and wordlessly dropping to my knees behind your desk.’

      His groan, eyes heavy-lidded, is music to my ears.

      I lean closer, drop my voice to a more intimate whisper. ‘You’d splutter, ask me what I was doing, but you wouldn’t stop me as I unzipped your trousers and took you into my mouth.’

      ‘Fuck it, Blair. Touch me. Now.’ He lifts one eyebrow, his command so gravelly, the sound buzzes over my nipples.

      I glance around the dining room, but no one pays us any heed. No doubt we look like any other loved-up couple, out for a romantic dinner. We’re so close on the seat, we could be holding hands under the table.

      I place my hand on the steel of his muscular thigh, my stare holding his in challenge.

      ‘Higher,’ he bites out.

      I obey, sliding my hand all the way up to the big, stiff length of him braced against the fly of his trousers.

      His lips part as I stroke him with my fingertips, pressing my thumb to the spot below the head that drags a low growl from him. ‘You’re going to get your wish one day soon—trust me. First thing tomorrow morning I’ll be getting a lock installed on my office door.’

      ‘Don’t bother,’ I whisper, sliding my thumb over the head of his cock, certain his trousers feel damp, as if he’s leaking already. ‘Someone coming in was part of the fantasy. I’d keep going, concealed under your desk, and you’d try to continue a conversation while I took you to the back of my throat.’

      He leans close, his mouth moving through the curtain of my hair. ‘You wonderful woman. I’ve been sitting behind that desk hard for you all day—fucking uncomfortable feeling, let me tell you.’ His confession makes me smile, the idea this urbane CEO spent the day discreetly adjusting himself around the office because of me adding another layer of turned-on to my weakened body.

      ‘Why didn’t you do something about it?’ The thought of him stroking what I have in my hand while he thinks of me sends pulses of heat through my core. That I could inspire such...desperation after being invisible for so long. My throat dries and I swallow. Would he jack himself off hard and fast or pump slowly, his wrist twisting...? My thighs twitch, desperate to come together, but reluctant to dislodge the torturous, crawling passage of his hand.

      ‘Because it’s for you.’ The brows once again rise as he pins me with a look packed with promise. ‘I’m saving every drop for all the fantasies you have.’

      I’ve been so turned on by his words, by touching him and learning what he likes, I’ve missed the fact his hand hasn’t idly lingered in one place on my leg. When his finger brushes a whisper of touch over my exposed lips, I gasp as the sensation practically knocks me back in the seat.

      ‘Here is my dessert,’ his filthy voice husks, intimate, for my ears only. ‘I’m ravenous for this. Was that also part of the fantasy?’ His fingers circle while he speaks, and I fight to conceal the judders that rack my body as he strums my clit. I bite my lip, grasping hold of the pleasure, trying to keep it locked inside. Private.

      ‘Tell me—did you ever fantasise about me putting my mouth on you?’

      I offer a shaky nod, and triumph blazes over his face.

      The waiter returns with some starters I have no recollection of ordering. I snatch my hand from Reid’s crotch and he does the same from mine, but slowly, surely and with a confidence that leaves me wondering how many times he’s done this public pleasuring routine before...

       Lucky women.

      Reid props his elbow on the table as the waiter deposits our plates. He looks directly at me, presses his thumb—the one that’s just rubbed me close to melting—to his lips and swipes his tongue over the wet pad.

      ‘Mmm...delicious.’ It’s subtle. Reid’s polite smile for the waiter, his quick glance down at the food, covers his real meaning. But I flush all over, my body temperature now dangerously high.

      And so it continues.

      Over every course we tease each other beneath the table. I barely touch my food and, although Reid fares a little better, I’m certain he too struggles.

      By the time he asks for the bill, he’s dragged me close to the edge of climaxing at least twice, so I’m so desperate to come I’ve forgotten my own name.

      My legs, as he guides me from the restaurant, are so wobbly I’m tempted to remove the heels I know make my legs appear longer in case I collapse before we reach the car.

      When I’m panting on the back seat, my thighs pressed tightly closed to ease the burn, I glare at him, torn between begging and demanding