Page 176 of Sinclair Duet

I spoke to the waiter. “We’re officially engaged. She’s just excited.”

“Oh,” he said, “it is a celebration. We will bring you a special dessert after dinner.”

“Thank you.” After he left us, I leaned closer and whispered, “I’m about to have my dessert first.”

As Ella’s breathing deepened, she sat forward giving me better access.

One swipe and another.

Warmth covered my finger. “Inappropriate,” I said.

Her eyes came to me.

“Coming on my fingers. You’re soaked.”

She closed her eyes as I continued the ministrations. It was as I pressed and rolled her clit that Ella brought the napkin to her mouth, not before I saw she was biting her lip. Watching her come was one of my favorite pastimes and watching her try to stifle her responsive and sensual reaction was even better.

“Oh shit,” she mumbled as her body trembled. She pressed her hand against the table.

“You are stunning.” I removed my hand and licked my fingers. “Yes, all of my favorites in one place. We can cancel the dessert—I had mine first.”

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I can’t believe we just…” She looked in all directions.

“No one was watching. They should have. You’re better than anything on the menu.”

Ella shook her head and lifted her glass of wine. “If there’s a wet spot on my dress, you’re giving me your jacket to leave.”

“Your dress is lined for a reason.”

She bowed her head as a new level of pink filled her cheeks. “Now I’m going to think of that every time I wear a lined dress.”

“Good.” I lifted my wine glass. “To many more inappropriate adventures.”

Ella lifted her glass and we both took a sip.

“You are a lot to handle, Damien.”

“And you’re the only one who can do it.”

Night had fallen by the time we drove home. As we traveled north from stoplight to stoplight, I said, “You are spectacular. When do you want to get married?”

“There’s something else I want to do now.”

“You don’t want to marry?”

“I do,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt.

“What are you doing?”

“Payback.”

Fuck.

Gabriella

“Ella,” Damien said, as I unbuckled his belt, “I’m driving.”

“Mr. Sinclair, I want your cock. Tell me you don’t want to come.”