Page 72 of One More Chapter

It could very well ruin everything.

Her ass in my lap and my hand up the front of her skirt and her shallow breaths and her heart that beats so deeply I can feel it through her back where she’s resting up against my chest. All because I just reminded her that we’re in a room full of people, and not within the walls of the cozy little secret escape we’ve made for ourselves.

With my fingers stilled on her upper thigh, I wait. I can hear the hamster on the wheel in her head turning over the bass of the party’s music, and I pray that, for once, it’s not about to flee.

I inhale in tandem with her, syncing up the beats of our hearts as I feel her breathe once, twice, three times.

Her bottom shifts, and I’m about to shackle my arm around her waist and plead with her not to go, when I realize that she’s sinking against me. Parting her legs. Slyly wrapping her hand around my exposed forearm and pressing it more deeply beneath her skirt, then shifting the skirt so that it covers the space between us.

Oh. The light is GREEN.

Resting my chin on her shoulder, I let my fingers slide home and vow to keep my dumb mouth shut for the duration of this flight.

All thought of staying quiet becomes an immediate battle, because my girl issoaked,and it’s pure and utter torture not to tell her. I harden my jaw and run the pads of my fingers along the drenched band of her thong, tug it forward, and let it snap. She squirms in my lap, but doesn’t tell me to stop. I do it again, peering over her shoulder to watch as she tries to keep her face impassive, but I can see it in her eyes—the moment that piece of fabric snugs against her poor clit. What I wouldn’t give to be at home in her bed right now instead of in a room full of people.

People who aren’t paying a lick of attention.

The song on the karaoke machine amplifies to a Disney duet, and the moment Aaron pulls his bride-to-be front and center, we are theleastof everyone’s worries. I have approximately three minutes to make her come, but more importantly, to make her want to follow me into bed as soon as we get home.

It could be plenty of time, or just not enough. I pray for the former.

Banding my arm tighter across her waist, I yank her underwear out of the way and press my two middle fingers to her clit. She immediately swallows a grunt and presses her inner thighs together. I work quick circles over the swollen bundle, remembering exactly how she liked it quick and hard.

God, how could I forget?

It’s not like that one time we had together isn’t on a constant loop in the back of my mind twenty-four-seven or something.

She squeezes me tightly, her nails pressing into my forearm, and I quicken my pace. With my chin resting on her shoulder, I fight every urge within me to whisper sweet and dirty nothingsinto her ear; to press my lips to her soft, sweet tasting skin; to turn her in my lap and worship her the way she deserves to be.

To apologize for all of my wrongs, and do everything to make them right.

It’s like trying to cap a bonfire with a shot glass of water, but I damn well do it.

Somehow, being in a room full of people makes it easier.

I can’t put my eyes or my mouth on her. For all intents and purposes, I’m supposed to pretend she’s just using my lap as a chair because we ran out of them, instead of dripping down my fingers.

Although, the fact that Pen is writhing on my lap on the precipice of coming all over my hand in a room full of people only reminds me of how, the last time I made her come like this, we were on a public beach.

Second to remind me of that night is the way a small little mouse-like sound comes out of her.

I’ve been with her twice, and I already know that’s a plead for more. I shift the hand on her waist subtly to her thigh as I scan the room. With everyone’s focus on the bride and groom to be as they hit the bridge of A Whole New World, I steal a moment to trace the tip of my nose over the shell of her ear as I whisper, “Think you can be a good girl and come quiet for me?”

The breathy, “Yes,” has my two middle fingers slipping from her clit to her opening. I have to stifle my own moan as I slide back into her sweet heaven. But the song is wrapping up, and I don’t trust the rest of the party, let alone the next sixty seconds that we have.

“Hold on tight, boss.”

I grind the base of my hand over her clit as my fingers fuck her fast. She’s so slick, so swollen, that I know this won’t last long at all. I love it and hate it. But not as much as I love the cheers from the rest of the room that are perfectly timed withthe clenching of her pussy on my fingers, giving me the perfect opportunity to press my mouth to her ear again.

“You gonna give me this cum, Penny Layne? Come on, baby, you know you want to.” I quicken my fingers, put more pressure on her clit, and steal a long kiss behind her ear. “My girl loves coming while other people are around, doesn’t she? A room full of people who have no idea how much your pussy loves my fingers except me. Now come for your man, Penelope Jayne.”

I don’t know what makes me harder: The fact that she listens, or the fact that her whispered moan as she comes is my name.

“Anthony.”

Not Ant. Notbug up my ass.

Anthony.