I get the feeling not much eating happens here, though. Unless that eating happens to be a pussy or a cock.

My clit throbs. Is this why he brought me here?

Of course it is, Bee. It’s why you came, you stupid bitch.

“Always,” Carter finally answers my question. He pulls the wine bottle from the bucket, shakes it lightly, then tops up my glass. The ice clinks as he replaces the bottle and reaches for his small tumbler full of amber liquid. It looks like liquid gold in this light. “There are ten booths. Next to you could be a Hollywood sweetheart, a billionaire, a world-famous model… Who knows? I don’t even know. It’s not my business to know.”

“It’s not your business to know about your business?” My lips tug into a small smirk.

His eyes seem to glow as he focuses on me. “I have my own perks within my business. I wouldn’t have brought you back here if I didn’t think you weren’t interested in them.”

I cross one leg over the other, grab my glass, and lean back. “Tell me—what are your perks, Mr. Hughes?”

He flexes his finger against his glass and brings it upward. “My perk, Ms. Donnelly, is wondering how many times I can make you come before I fuck you.”

Heat sizzles through my bloodstream, and goosebumps cover my skin in the silence that follows his words.

Holy. Shit.

That’s forward.

And tempting. Oh so goddamn, motherfucking tempting.

“That’s awfully presumptuous,” I manage to rasp out. I take a quick gulp of wine to wet my throat. “Don’t you think?”

“I’m a presumptuous guy.” He shrugs a shoulder, unaffected.

Of course. “What makes you think you’re going to find out?”

He moves his gaze over me slowly, his eyes darkening with every inch of my skin they touch. My heartbeat picks up until it’s thundering against my ribs and I can feel the beat at every pulse point in my body. There’s a tightening sensation in my stomach that seems to be dropping and resting deep in my pussy, and I’m clenching my muscles, and I wish that awkward ache in my clit would disappear, because I kind of want to jump Carter’s bones right now.

He chuckles, the sound dark and husky, and sets his glass on the table after one final drink. “Oh, Bee.” He skirts across the seat toward me, and I take a deep breath when he reaches up and loosens his tie. “I know I’m going to find out,” he says just as darkly as he just laughed. “Look at you. You’re breathing erratically.” He runs his finger across my collarbone and glances toward the table. “Your hand is trembling where you’re holding your glass, and you keep licking those gorgeous lips of yours.” He trails his hand up my neck. “Not to mention your eyes—they’re wide, and your cheeks are flushed.” He cups my jaw and runs his thumb along the side of it, right down to my mouth. The tip of his thumb ghosts along the soft curve of my lower lip. He’s barely touching me, but it feels as though my mouth is on fire.

He leans in, the tip of his nose only just hovering in front of mine, and he exhales slowly. His breath cascades across my mouth, and I breathe in sharply at the hot burst of air that caresses my lips.

Oh, Jesus.

“Are you wondering yet?” he whispers. “Tell me, Bee. Are you wondering how many times I could make you come? How I’d do it? I am. All I’m thinking about right now is lifting the bottom of your dress, sliding your underwear to the side and fucking you with my fingers until you bite down on my shoulder with pleasure.”

Another burst of heat is making its way through my body. I clamp my thighs together as he drops one hand and draws a trail across my left leg with the tips of his fingers. “I’m thinking that I should leave,” I lie.

“No you’re not.” He smiles and spreads his hand across my thigh. I fight to keep my muscles clenched and ultimately lose. Carter inches his hand up my leg until his fingers tease the hem of my dress and his thumb pushes between my legs. He squeezes my thigh, and unbidden, my legs creep open.

I breathe faster with anticipation, each one harder and more desperate as his hand continues its journey upward.  I drop my head back as he finally reaches the very top of my thigh. His thumb brushes across my panties, and I don’t know if the gentle flick across my clit is deliberate or coincidental, but I shudder.

He drops his face into my neck, repeating that flick. Yeah—that was deliberate. And I hate how good it feels. He smiles against my skin, pushing down hard. The lace of my panties rubs against the sensitive spot roughly, but it only adds to the pleasure, the crazy, intense, burst of pleasure that ricochets as he circles my clit with his thumb.

Oh, God. I’m such a slut. I’ve barely known this man thirty minutes and he’s just slid two of his fingers inside me.

He groans, the sound muffled by my collarbone. “You’re so fucking wet, Bee. Still gonna lie and tell me you think you should leave?”

I open my mouth to respond as he pumps his fingers inside me, but nothing comes out. Instead, I swallow and nod, even as my hips move against his hand.

Greedy pussy. Bad pussy.

I am so grounding her tomorrow morning.

Carter slips his thumb under my panties until it touches my bare clit. His fingers still for the barest second as he finds the sweet spot and settles there, ready to move again. Blood is pumping through my body at lightning speed, and my fingers are wrapped in his jacket, and I’m grasping the seat, digging my nails into the leather as he moves his hand again. My legs are opening wider with each thrust of his fingers into me. His lips skirt their way across my neck, up to my ear and back down, kissing, nibbling, brushing… It’s a sensory overload.

With one final rub of my clit, he pushes me over the edge.

Orgasm one.

Chapter Two

I moan, and he covers my mouth with his hand, still moving the other against me. I ride the orgasm out against his hand, trembles of the aftershocks of it going through my body. “Holy shit,” I whisper, the words leaving me on a whoosh. The man hasn’t even kissed me. At least, not on my mouth.

I’ve never been turned on so easily in my life.

Carter pulls his fingers out of my pussy and grasps my hip. His grip is tight, and when he pulls me toward him, I move onto my side. I unclip the button of his jacket, and looking down at his stomach, flatten my hand against the toned surface of his body. Damn that crisp white shirt stopping me from touching his skin. Abs just aren’t the fucking same when they’ve got a damn row of buttons running down the middle of them.

Carter wraps one hand around the back of my neck and pulls my face into him. “God, Bee. You get wet so easily, don’t you? Is that how you keep your one-nighters going? With your wet pussy?” He leans in so his fingers dig into my pulse point. “How long do you last?” he asks quietly. “One?

Two? Three? Tell me, love. How many times can you come before it’s too much? Before you say enough is enough?”

“Once.” I rasp out the word, gripping his shirt tightly.

“You’re a liar,” he replies, just as breathily. He palms my ass cheek, his movements slow and calculated. I hold my breath in anticipation of the sting I know is coming.

It does.

Sharp and quick, Carter’s palm connects with my ass cheek, and I buck my hips against him.

“Fuck,” I moan, gripping his shirt tighter.

He laughs. Low and rich, each sound coasts over my skin until all I can hear is that deep rumble of his amusement.  “Sounds like a good fuck.” He does it again, and this time, I arch my back. “Damn. You’re so fuckin’ responsive, aren’t you?”

“You’ve barely touched me,” I point out. I reach up and grasp the top button of his shirt, my eyes on his the whole time. “See how responsive I am when you actually try.”

Once again, he laughs. His grip on my tender ass gets rough, and he seems to relish the way I grasp his shirt as if I want to rip it off. ‘Cause, fuck. I do. I want to rip off this goddamn useless piece of white fucking fabric until his obviously toned torso is clear to me and ready for me to explore with whichever part of my body I deem fit.