Foreman barely noticed the waiter escaping with their orders. Amber tipped her head back, her chin lifting slightly, her eyes slipping closed for an instant. Her breathing hitched in reaction to his touches, growing shallower each time he stroked her fully. With her lips parted, just enough that he could see the tip of her tongue, all Foreman could think about was kissing her, deep and thorough, tasting every shaky breath she let out, until he could feel her arousal with his mouth, not just his hands. Answer it with his own need. Let it build, both of them getting more than was possible right now. Christ, he needed more. Never taking his eyes off Amber's face, Foreman massaged his fingertips just above her clit, or as close as he could tell through the fabric, wanting to feel Amber's thigh trembling under his restraining hand.
He'd thought hooking her leg across his lap would save him from her teasing, but God, it was worse. If he'd let her keep going, her foot massaging his cock through his pants, then maybe he would have lost control, but maybe he wouldn't have cared. He could have pushed against her, trying to roll his hips forward as much as possible without giving himself away. As it was there was the warm pressure, enough that he couldn't get away from it but not moving. His erection was starting to strain against his pants, full and hard, reminding him with every chafing second that this was a stupid idea, that any sound or movement would make everyone in the damn room aware of what was happening. Somehow, though, that only added to his excitement, glancing around and seeing people involved in their own conversations, with no idea.
He nearly gave the game away himself when Amber touched him. Upping the stakes, her hand covering him--so fucking good. A strained sound caught in his throat, not enough for anyone to hear, although Amber probably would--and would be pleased at his reaction, he'd bet. I want you to fuck me on this table. Fuck, he couldn't think, Amber's words echoing in his mind, the images conjured up making him almost painfully hard. But, like her barely-double entendres of a moment ago, it was another push, something that he'd find even easier to answer. "I want to make you come," he said, matching her tone. "Right here. For me, while I'm watching you. Touching you. So no one else knows."
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He'd thought hooking her leg across his lap would save him from her teasing, but God, it was worse. If he'd let her keep going, her foot massaging his cock through his pants, then maybe he would have lost control, but maybe he wouldn't have cared. He could have pushed against her, trying to roll his hips forward as much as possible without giving himself away. As it was there was the warm pressure, enough that he couldn't get away from it but not moving. His erection was starting to strain against his pants, full and hard, reminding him with every chafing second that this was a stupid idea, that any sound or movement would make everyone in the damn room aware of what was happening. Somehow, though, that only added to his excitement, glancing around and seeing people involved in their own conversations, with no idea.
He nearly gave the game away himself when Amber touched him. Upping the stakes, her hand covering him--so fucking good. A strained sound caught in his throat, not enough for anyone to hear, although Amber probably would--and would be pleased at his reaction, he'd bet. I want you to fuck me on this table. Fuck, he couldn't think, Amber's words echoing in his mind, the images conjured up making him almost painfully hard. But, like her barely-double entendres of a moment ago, it was another push, something that he'd find even easier to answer. "I want to make you come," he said, matching her tone. "Right here. For me, while I'm watching you. Touching you. So no one else knows."