Chapter 13 #2
“You did great,” Whitney says, leaning toward me. “I think you had this whole room hanging off your every word.”
I settle in my seat again. “That was the goal. I didn’t come across too pompous, did I?”
“Of course not. I thought it was very tasteful. Your mother’s foundation will see an uptick in donations after that. It was very convincing.”
“Theo!” a twinkling voice calls my name and the high I was riding from the applause quickly disappears.
I turn my head to glower at the blonde I know is standing right behind me.
Having no sense of boundaries, or consideration for the woman sitting next to me, Lauren Farthington bends down right next to me, making sure to show off her cleavage in her low cut dress to anyone willing to see.
She wraps her arms around my neck and then presses a kiss to each of my cheeks.
“Oh, I’ve missed you so much? How long has it been?”
“Not long enough,” I mutter low enough that only she can hear it.
I have no desire to play into her trap tonight.
Lauren can be manipulative, but I’m not falling for it anymore.
After undergoing years of verbal abuse by her, repetitively telling me that I was cheap and worthless, it finally took me walking into our home to find her sprawled out on the couch with another man to see the truth of her ways.
I won’t let her make a fool of me again.
Now that I’m away from her, I’ve gone to great lengths to keep those reminders at bay. Hours of therapy have been spent convincing myself that I am more than what she tried to convince me of. Though she still acts as a reminder; a beacon for those darker thoughts.
When she pulls away from her one-sided embrace, her cosmetically enhanced lips are puckered into a pout and she crosses her arms over her chest—again, showing off her low-cut dress line.
“Theo, I’ve missed you. Can’t you at least be a little happy to see me?”
I stare at her blankly for a moment before turning to Whitney, who is watching the entire exchange with wide eyes. “Do you need some fresh air? It’s feeling awfully stuffy in here all of a sudden.”
Lauren scoffs behind me. Whitney doesn’t get the chance to respond before more chaos is added to this show.
“Oh, Lauren!” my mother exclaims once she makes it back to the table, my father in tow. “I’m so glad you were able to stop by this evening.”
My mother wraps her arms around Lauren’s thin body, pulling her into a hug.
Lauren returns the gesture, closing her eyes and rubbing my mother’s back fondly, playing into the part exceedingly well.
Just as she’s always done. She always put on a good show for our parents, saving her vindictive insults for when we were alone.
“I wouldn’t have missed it. You know I look forward to this event every year!
It’s always so good to see you both, and to catch up with you, Theo.
You really shouldn’t be such a stranger. ”
I give her a tight smile and reach for my wine glass. Rather than gauge Lauren’s reaction to my less-than warm response, I turn to Whitney. She’s still watching the whole interaction with wary eyes, but doesn’t intervene, letting it play out.
My mother and Lauren talk for a little while longer, like they are old friends.
Which I guess they are, given that my mother routinely will meet up with Lauren and her mother for lunch.
My mother is not fully aware of the terms of our breakup.
I can’t imagine that if she were she’d be putting on a show like this.
But I don’t have it in me to drag Lauren through the mud anymore.
Losing control of me and my family’s inheritance was enough of a punishment for her.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Lauren excuses herself back to her table. My mother looks after her fondly, but then turns back to the table once she’s out of eyeline.
I place my hand on Whitney’s leg in an attempt to soothe any type of turmoil she might be feeling.
She turns to me and gives me an affectionate look.
I can’t help but smile at her softly. She’s so lovely tonight, and for the first time, I don’t feel the pressure of anyone looking over my shoulder.
I can’t seem to keep my hands off of her.
“So, Whitney,” my mother begins as she picks up her wine glass and swirls it a bit. “Tell us a little about yourself.”
Whitney nods her head, turning her attention to my mother.
She rattles off a few things about her, how she worked under Vance Peterson and helped him lead the company to where it is now.
I know she’s trying to make an impression after having been unwittingly compared to Lauren.
It’s shameful to say, but I tune her out a bit, choosing to focus on how her toned thigh feels beneath my hand.
Finally, satisfied that she provided a thorough investigation, my mother sniffs and looks down her nose at Whitney. She gives the two of us one more long look before excusing herself for her speech for the evening. My father goes with her, leaving just the two of us at the table.
Whitney turns to me and exhales. “How do you think that went?”
I offer her an encouraging smile. “It was just fine. Relax.”
She takes another deep breath in through her nose and turns toward the stage where my mother is now standing behind the podium. The lights in the ballroom dim a bit, the spotlight centering on my mother as she jumps into thanking everyone for attending.
My hand is still on Whitney’s leg, and my fingers stroke the smooth, creamy skin of her thigh rhythmically.
She takes another deep breath and I notice she relaxes further into her chair.
I can’t imagine what’s running through her mind right now, but I want to make sure that she knows she’s the only woman in this room who I give a damn about tonight.
As the minutes tick by, the blood traveling through my body seems to run just a bit faster, and I’m compelled to move my hand slightly, dipping under the silky seam of her dress.
It just so happened that the side of her gown with the slit up her leg is the side closest to me, and I’m unable to ignore that.
Arousal explodes through my body when my fingers touch the smooth spans of her thigh. Her breath hitches when she realizes what I’m doing and shoots me a warning glance. I give her an innocent shrug.
Any second, I expect her to swat at my hand, effectively ruining any fun we could have here. However, I’m surprised when she keeps her expression level, staring up at the stage as if nothing is amiss.
I’m even more surprised when she spreads those sexy legs wider for me, allowing my hand to continue to travel higher.
As my mother continues her speech at the podium, Whitney’s eyes seem to turn a bit glassy and her breath hitches. I move closer to the apex of her thighs, and her chest rises and falls with anticipation. Enamored with the way she responds to me, I do it again.
And again.
The third time, I move all the way up. My middle finger brushes over the fabric of her panties, and I have to swallow down a noise when I realize just how damp they are.
Slowly, my finger circles over the nub of her clit through the material, and her breath hitches.
Whitney squirms in her seat a little in an attempt to find the best position for me to access the most forbidden parts of her.
She gives me the side-eye, and I give her a wicked grin.
All it would take is for her to tell me to stop, and I’d keep my hands to myself.
But I love that she doesn’t almost as much as I love how her cheeks are already starting to flush as my finger swirls over her.
Things heat up even more when I move my finger to the side, finding the seam of her panties and swiftly moving underneath them. Whitney hums a little the minute my fingers graze her pussy, and I bite my lip, entranced by how soaked with desire she is.
Whitney moves closer to the table, simultaneously pushing my hand farther up against her but making it so my arm doesn’t have to stretch so far to reach her.
Thankfully, the tablecloth is pooled around her lap, so the person sitting across her cannot see me having my way with her under her dress.
That paired with the dim lighting, and we’re perfectly shielded.
I’m impressed the longer this goes on. She seems to be able to handle herself well, giving nothing away. I, however, am getting more and more worked up by the moment. She loses a fraction of control when I slide my middle finger deep inside of her.
A gasp escapes her lips, but she quickly covers it, reaching for her glass and taking a sip of water. She shoots me a scandalized look, but I only lean toward her and whisper, “You look a little flushed.”
“Do I?” she whispers back, maybe too harshly.
If it weren’t for how she repeatedly tilts her hips against my hand, I might suspect she isn’t digging the way I was torturing her.
But she continues to surreptitiously move her pelvis, searching for the spot that feels the best for her, taking her pleasure from me.
We continue on this way, me fingering her under the table and her keeping up pretenses as if everything is as it should be.
My need for her continues to mount to immeasurable lengths.
But I continue our game, wondering how far I can take her before she gives in.
With each minute that passes, I become just as wound up as she is.
Her pussy clenches around my fingers, and finally, I know she’s had enough.
“Theo,” Whitney whispers to me when she seems unable to take anymore. Her voice is low enough that anyone else at the table can’t hear her. I turn my head to look at her and catch my breath when I set eyes on her beautiful face.
Her cheeks are flushed bright red, and her eyes are blown wide. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I grow even harder against the zipper of my dress pants. This entire time I’ve been fingering her, I’ve kept my arousal at bay, but now? With her coming all over my fingers in front of everyone here?
Fuck me.
“What is it, baby?” I ask her, though I know what she needs from me without her saying anything. Languidly, I pull my fingers out of her soaked pussy, and she shivers from the sensation. “You need something?”
Slowly she dips her chin and gives me what I can only describe as bedroom eyes. Her blue-gray eyes are darkened with desire, and her eyelids are hooded as she looks up at me through her eyelashes. My cock throbs. “Can we go back up to the room?”
“You not feeling well?” I ask, a little bit louder for the people sitting nearby. I get a few curious glances from the other donors as they overhear our conversation. My mother is still up on the stage, speaking about the goals of the organization for the coming year.
Whitney’s cheeks turn an even darker rose color, and she nods. “I think I need to go lie down.”
Fuck yes, you do, preferably on my cock.
“Alright, let's get you upstairs,” I say as I push my chair back and offer her the hand whose fingers were inside her not long ago. Without another word to anyone, I whisk Whitney out of the ballroom and to the elevator.
She’s practically panting when the elevators close behind us, and I don’t waste any more time. I close the distance between us.
My girl needs taking care of, and I’m sure as fuck going to be the one to do it.