Purely Professional by Elia Winters Page B

her hand, she drew it back quickly, slightly out of breath. “I love seeing the desire in your eyes,” Max said. “It’s written all over your face.”
    “I just…” she began, but had no words. Her body felt charged with electricity.
    “Touch yourself again. I want you to rub your clit and tell me how you feel.”
    Her entire body felt hot and flustered. She looked around again.
    “One day you’ll learn to just listen to me. No one can see your hand with the tablecloth like this. Do it.”
    Bridget bit her lip, but his tone was commanding, and she was turned on enough to really want to touch herself anyway. When she brushed her clit again, it was like an electric shock, and she had to press her lips together to keep silent.
    “Slowly. Don’t stop. Tell me how it feels.”
    “I feel…” she breathed, unable to form coherent sentences, “naughty. Dirty.” She looked down at the tablecloth.
    “Look at me. I want you to keep looking in my eyes.”
    Bridget did so, obediently, and the intimacy was almost too much. She was masturbating in a restaurant, and he was watching her.
    “Do you like feeling dirty?”
    “I don’t… No… I don’t know.” She was having trouble concentrating on anything but the throbbing between her legs, and the intimacy of the situation was making the room hotter.
    “I’ll bet you like it.” He raised one eyebrow at her. “It made you hot to walk around all day without underwear like some sort of slut, didn’t it?”
    Her mouth fell open at the word. She should be angry, or at least embarrassed; calling her a slut should make her cringe. It definitely shouldn’t make her clench in response, unable to respond to the intense pleasure that coursed through her like an electric shock. How could he do this to her? As if he knew how she was feeling, he smiled more broadly, and the promises in that smile filled her with unbridled want , staggering and unfamiliar.
    “Stop, now,” he ordered, and she did so, albeit reluctantly. Reluctantly, really? Did she want to come in the middle of the restaurant? Max smiled. “Can’t let you get too far. It’s so early in the evening.”
    Bridget flushed again and moved to wipe her fingers on the napkin in her lap.
    “Not yet.” He stopped her and she paused. “Taste them.”
    She wrinkled her nose a bit. “Really?”
    Max’s gaze was challenging, as if he didn’t think she’d do it. Bridget wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. She brought one finger up to her lips and touched her tongue to it experimentally, then licked her finger, still meeting his gaze.
    “I love the way you taste,” he told her when she took her hand away to wipe it off. “I can’t wait to taste you again.”
    She shivered a little despite herself. “Everything you say completely unnerves me.”
    “What do you mean?” His voice was innocent.
    “You know what I mean.” The words came out more like a hiss. “You’re a tease. Does this come to some kind of completion? I’ve never been this horny before.”
    Max affected shock. “Are you saying you want me to finish you in the middle of this restaurant?”
    “Of course not.” The image that came to mind, though, distracted her from saying anything else. Max, bending her over the table and fucking her from behind, his palm pressing between her shoulder blades to hold her down. She imagined her breasts crushed against the tabletop, her fingers curling in the stiff linen tablecloth as he kicked her legs apart and pressed up between them, sliding into her with one firm thrust.
    Her hand scrabbled for purchase on the water glass before she was able to pick it up and gulp some down.
    “You wanted to give up control, right? This is what it’s like. Some women grow to like the feeling of suspense. You might be one of them.” Just then, the waiter arrived with bread, and Max began buttering a dinner roll. “Have some food, Bridget. You’re going to need your strength.”

Chapter Seven
    On the way back