CHAPTER EIGHT
Ella
The waiter’s wink made me want to sink through the floor. Was it that obvious what Cole and I had been doing against that wall?
“Everyone knows,” I whispered once we were alone. “They can tell what we were... what you want to...”
“What I want to do to you?” Cole pulled out my chair, his hands lingering on my shoulders. “Baby, everyone in this hotel probably heard how badly I want to fuck you when you were moaning against the wall.”
I squirmed in my seat. “I wasn’t... was I?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He sat across from me, and my mouth went dry as he rolled up his sleeves. From a medical perspective, the way his forearm muscles flexed should not have been this arousing.
“Tell me something, little doctor.” His voice dropped lower. “When you’re alone in bed… reading... do you touch yourself?”
The fork clattered from my suddenly nerveless fingers. “Cole.”
“That’s not an answer.” He reached across the table, catching my chin. “Do you slide those delicate little fingers between your thighs? Make yourself come while imagining it’s someone else’s hands? Or tongue?”
“I...” I could barely meet his eyes. “Sometimes. For... medical reasons. It’s healthy to explore one’s, um, body.”
“No medical terms.” His thumb stroked across my lower lip. “Tell me how you do it. Show me.”
My eyes widened. “Here? At the dinner table?”
“Why not? Food’s getting cold anyway.” He leaned back, spreading his legs slightly. The sight made my core throb. “Touch yourself for me, Ella. Let me see how you pleasure that sweet body when you’re alone.”
I glanced nervously at the windows, though we were too high for anyone to see. “I’ve never... not with someone watching.”
“You’re going to have a lot of firsts tonight, remember baby?”
A whimper escaped me. “The books... they never mentioned dinner could be this...”
“Filthy?” He grinned. “Baby, by the time I’m done with you, those romance novels are going to seem like your medical text.”
He picked up my fallen fork, loading it with pasta. “Now, be a good girl and eat something. Then maybe I’ll let you come against my fingers under this table.”
My breath caught at his words. I’d never been so aroused in my life—the vasocongestion in my pelvic region was... No. No medical terms. Just feel.
I obediently opened my mouth for the pasta. “Good girl.”
No one had ever called me that in such a filthy way. It made me throb.
“When you touch yourself,” he continued, “do you think about being watched? About someone telling you exactly how to make yourself feel good?”
“I...” My voice shook. “Sometimes. Lately. Since meeting you.”
“Tell me about lately.” His intense gaze made me shiver.
“After you dropped me off this morning.” I stared at my plate, unable to meet his eyes. “I… thinking about your hands... I had to… in my office.”
“Did you come?”
I hesitated, my cheeks burning, my core clenching at the memory. Slowly, I nodded. But deep inside, I knew the truth. I had felt good—so good—but I had never truly made myself come. I had never had an orgasm.
Cole’s sharp eyes studied me, his head tilting slightly, as if he knew the truth.
Then, before I could process it, he rose from his chair, taking mine and spinning me around in one smooth, commanding motion. My breath hitched as he dropped to his knees before me, his hands firm on my thighs, steadying me as the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
“Tell me the truth, Ella,” he murmured, his voice a rough caress against my skin. “Have you ever made yourself come? Not just feel good—but come?”
I swallowed hard, heat licking up my spine. “I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I’ve touched myself. It’s felt amazing, but...” I shifted under his gaze, suddenly shy. “I don’t think I’ve ever really...”
Cole exhaled slowly, his pupils flaring with something dark, determined and dominant. “We’re going to change that right now.”
I gasped as his hands slid under my skirt, pushing the fabric up inch by inch, baring me to him.
“Lift,” he ordered, his voice edged with restraint. I obeyed on instinct, lifting my hips as he hooked his fingers into my panties and slid them down my legs. He lifted them to his nose, inhaling deeply before tossing them aside. “So sweet,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine. “ My pussy smells so sweet.”
I sat there, trembling, unsure what to do with my hands, my thoughts.
“Breathe, Ella,” he soothed, his hands pressing against my knees, gently parting them, opening me to him. “Just breathe.”
I gasped, my pulse hammering as he pulled me to the very edge of the chair. Then, he leaned in. Not enough to touch, not enough to give me what I needed—just enough to make me feel his heat. His breath ghosted over my slickness, making me whimper.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly. I obeyed. How could I not?
“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Let me see how you do it. Show me how that sweet pussy likes to be played with.”
A shudder ran through me at the intensity in his voice. My fingers trembled as I slid them between my thighs, feeling the slickness waiting there.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” he coaxed. “Be explicit.”
I shifted against the chair, my breath shaky. “I’m... I’m touching my... my...”
“Pussy,” he supplied, voice rough with want. “Say it.”
The crude word felt foreign on my tongue, but it sent a dark thrill through me. “I’m touching my pussy,” I whispered, feeling both wicked and emboldened by the confession.
“Good girl.” The praise made my pulse jump. “Now, rub that pretty little clit for me.”
I obeyed, circling the swollen bud, by body already tensing. But this was different. I wasn’t alone. I was performing for him. And heaven help me, I liked it.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Tell me how it feels.”
I gasped as the pleasure intensified. “I... I feel achy.”
“Good. Rub a little harder.”
I did as he said, my fingers moving faster, pressure building in a way I’d never quite felt before. My thighs trembled beneath the hard grip of his hands. I was spread open before him, on full display. My breaths grew shallower. I realized having him watch me, ordering me… I felt a tightening inside I’d never felt before. My eyes opened. “Cole...”
“That’s it. Chase that feeling. Now, think about my mouth on you,” he coaxed. “Sucking that clit, licking up every drop of that sweet cream.”
The image of his head between my legs, doing that to me, shattered me.
Pleasure crashed over me, sharper than anything I’d ever felt—raw, consuming. My whole body locked up, back arching, toes curling as the orgasm tore through me, dragging me under.
Through the haze, I heard Cole groan. I knew I’d have bruises in the morning where he gripped my thighs.
“That’s it,” he rasped. “That’s my fucking girl. So damn pretty when she comes.”
I slumped back, body wrecked, tingling from head to toe. My mind was still floating somewhere between earth and heaven.
“I can’t believe I just... at the dinner table...”
He brought my hand to his mouth, sucking my fingers clean. The sight made me start to throb all over again. “And that was just the appetizer.”
He pulled me up, and my legs shook. “Ready for your next anatomy lesson, little doctor?”
He caught my hand, pressing it against him, letting me feel how hard he was through his pants. “Feel what watching you did to me.”
My fingers curled instinctively, exploring his size. “You’re so... I mean... will it...”
“You can take every inch of me,” he promised against my lips. “Tell me what you want next. Be specific.”
“I want...” I gathered my courage. “I want you to take me to bed. Show me everything I’ve been missing.”