Chapter 36 Ethan
ETHAN
Ipull the door wider, unsure of how to respond as Christian Ford leans against the wall as if he were waiting for his turn in the bathroom.
Dane cranes his neck in my direction to see who’s on the other side and says, “oh hey,” like it’s not a big deal that Christian Ford is watching us walk out of a locked solo bathroom.
We both peek out, look down the hall and see Christian’s bodyguard standing at the entrance, not allowing anyone through.
In synchronized motion we turn our gaze back to Christian as we step out of the doorway.
His eyes bounce between us and I can’t read him.
This guy is tall and intimidating and I have no idea what to say as I stand here suspiciously.
Dane on the other hand has his signature smile without a care in the world.
“You’re welcome,” Christian says with a smirk, then slips between us passing through to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.
Okkkaaay. So, they’re cool like that.
Then I remember Christian is in that poly relationship with the other couple and it makes me wonder if Dane—No, I’m not going there. I don’t want to consider that at all.
Dane doesn’t wait for me as he walks down the hallway and passes the bodyguard the size of Egypt, then makes his way to the bar where my father is standing.
He’s being weird and I have no idea how to read him. He gave up way too fast after he asked me to dinner. It’s so unlike him.
I glance at the scoreboard; it’s the last inning and we’re still up by one after Hudson Byrnes’ two-run homer. I continue my way over to where Dane is standing because he beelined straight for my dad and that’s strange considering he vehemently avoided him the entire game until now.
Not that I was paying attention to him.
As I step up, Dane rolls back onto his heels and rubs circles over his stomach. “All this excitement has me famished. I’m starving,” he says that bit with way too much exaggeration and I peer over at my father who I swear has fucking dollar signs flying out of his eyeballs.
“Let’s go to that new restaurant around the corner, I’ve been dying to try it out,” my father replies in a surprisingly calm tone, considering I know how badly he wants to get Dane alone.
“Only if Ethan comes, too,” Dane says as he turns his gaze to me with a full blown smile.
This motherfucker.
My father grits his teeth as he lasers into me. “Good idea. It’ll be a great real life learning experience for him.”
“I—I’m not really hungry. You guys should go.” I smile back at Dane because him being stuck at dinner with my father genuinely puts one on my face.
“Nonsense. You’re coming,” dear old Dad replies, not giving me a choice. “I’ll call ahead and get us a reservation.” He steps away as he places his cell phone to his ear, not taking any chances with this opportunity.
“What are you doing?” I pin him with an—I don’t even know what kind of look. I’m fucking pissed that I’m stuck spending more time with my dad and now we have to discuss all the money Dane has and properties he owns. Great.
“Anything I want,” he replies with a confidence I’m jealous of and it’s just so him.
The crowd cheers loudly and the scoreboard lights up. The Smashers brought home another win and the entire stadium is going crazy.
My father comes back telling us they have a table waiting for us and holds his arm out to the exit.
Dane says goodbye to Christian and we head out, using a back entrance that isn’t as crowded.
I take a minute to text Hannah to let her know what’s going on with an angry face emoji and she just responds with a laughing and face palm emoji.
Great. She’s enjoying this, too.
I guess she knows if anyone can make this dinner with my father more entertaining, it’s Dane.
Right when we walk in, the hostess greets us and immediately takes us to a corner table in the restaurant. My father must have name dropped Dane Campbell because the restaurant is packed and I guarantee you this wasn’t easily available.
The table is square with two chairs on each side.
I step to the opposite side of it, placing myself closest to the corner where I’d prefer to remain in solitary so I can just get through the evening.
Instead of Dane sitting across the table like I expect, he slides into the seat directly next to me with yet another fat grin on his face.
My father sits directly across from Dane, pleased with the full frontal attention.
We go through the pleasantries with the waiter and order food and wine. We finish the first bottle before the appetizers arrive and Dane orders yet another bottle of wine, topping me off again.
“Stop trying to get me drunk,” I reply under my breath.
“Why? You’re so much more fun when you’re drunk.” His hand discreetly covers the top of my thigh and my knee jerks up, banging the bottom of the table.
My dad glares in my direction even though he has no idea if that was actually me, but my dad blames me for everything.
“Ope, sorry about that. Big legs,” Dane replies like he was the one that hit the table and then expertly steers the conversation in another direction. “So, Edward, tell me more about your company.”
Edward Russo rubs his hands together like a mad scientist and spews out his elevator pitch like he’s practiced it a million times.
Except, it’s not really an elevator pitch because those are supposed to be summarized quickly.
He just keeps talking and talking. I find myself taking more sips of wine as I watch both of them.
God, I hate this. Wining and dining clients. Kissing ass for a living. The managing money part isn’t horrible but how am I going to build relationships with clients when I don’t want to build relationships with anyone.
I only ever like talking to Hannah. And more recently Dane.
I curse myself at the thought.
Dane is engaged with my dad, more engaged than I’ve seen him today and I wonder if he’s actually considering working with his company. It would be a huge account for my father.
I flinch again at the heat of Dane’s hand as it crawls up my thigh. It was more gentle this time so I didn’t kick my leg up but it feels too soft and intimate. He’s still looking at my father with a completely composed expression, you’d have no idea he’s groping me under the table.
I place my hand over his, gripping tightly as I attempt to push his hand off my leg but he holds strong, dipping into my inner thigh and cupping between my legs.
“Umpf,” I grunt out and then cough a couple of times grabbing my water. “Sorry…swallowed my own spit,” I reply with the first thing that comes to mind. My father is clearly not pleased.
“No problem,” Dane replies, “you were saying?” He turns back to my father, expertly hiding the fact that he’s palming my cock.
Dane continues a rhythmic pace as my dad names off stats and numbers and other facts that I can’t pay attention to because I can only feel his hand on me.
You would think the fabric of these expensive trousers would be enough armor to protect me from such a simple act, but they’re far from dense.
In fact, I swear they’re made out of fucking tissue paper with the way I can feel all the ridges of his fingers dip underneath and around my now hard cock.
My eyelids flutter as he wraps his skillful hand around my length and tugs, the fabric providing an unexpected pleasurable friction.
“Oh, fuck,” falls from my lips as a groan rumbles in my chest.
My dad ignores me, and thankfully I can’t hear anything he’s saying because the pleasure builds in my groin as Dane continues at a slow, but punishing pace. He stops and I huff out a heavy breath as if I finally come back to earth.
“You okay?” Dane asks, sans any clue he’s stroking me off right now.
“I’m good,” I reply, my voice husky and thick.
“Food is coming, don’t forget your napkin.” Using his other hand, he tosses a napkin at my lap and I pat it down under the tablecloth, trying to act normal when nothing is fucking normal right now. The hand hidden underneath the table begins unbuttoning my pants and releases my zipper.
I give him a pleading look, which he ignores, as a rush of cool air hits my cock before he wraps his entire hand around it, stroking it from base to tip.
Smothering another groan, I jerk forward, pretending to adjust my seat as I pat the napkin.
My dad is still talking, how I don’t even know but I don’t care because if I don’t come I think I might die.
I shift my gaze to take in Dane’s profile. His eyes are still bright with a pleased expression but his pupils, they’re a shade darker than usual. His sharp jawline is clenched like he’s enjoying every minute of this but hates holding himself back.
He side-eyes me as his lips tip up in a smirk, then he rubs his palm over my tip coating himself with my pre-cum then jerks down the length of me. I grunt again and my father pauses, looks at me, then continues talking.
Dane knows how loud I am in bed. I’m not good at being quiet.
Fuck.
Grabbing the drink menu, I place it in front of me as I lean my elbows on the table and palm my forehead, looking down pretending to read.
I steady my breathing as Dane picks up his tempo, twisting his hand over the tip then back down the shaft. My cock thickens and Dane hums, acting as if he’s agreeing with something my dad said, but I know that hum. He’s turned on, too.
I want to grab his cock under the table, give him the same treatment he’s giving me, but it’s too late.
The knowing sensation builds at the base of my spine and I try to hold back but my cock jerks as my hips thrust up and I spurt cum into the napkin covering my lap.
I hum out a long moan and exhausted breath, still pretending to study the menu.
Another pulse of cum, then another as I hiss and groan between my teeth.
“What’s gotten into you?” my father asks, annoyed at my disruption over him.
“Nothing, this menu is great,” I reply as I close it and place it across the table from me.
Just then the waiter stops by with our meals, placing our dishes down in front of us.
“Bon Appétit!” he says as he turns on his heel and walks away.
Dane and I share a look, recalling our dinner in Paris that had just as much sexual tension swimming at the table and he chuckles. I can’t help but do the same in my post-orgasmic state, even though I’m still put-off by the fact that he jerked me off across the table from my dad.
“This meal looks fantastic,” my father says as he dives in, not waiting for anyone else at the table.
Dane finally removes his hand from my lap. He doesn’t grab his napkin. No, that would be a far too normal thing for him to do.
Instead he looks down at his plate, swipes his cum-coated finger over the mashed potatoes and sauce, then locks eyes with me as he presses it into his mouth. He sucks his finger clean with a slurp and a pop, humming his approval.
“You’re right, Ethan. This is delicious.”