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KIERAN
Ibarely taste our food. My full focus is on her.
I knew she’d hate going out tonight, that she’d prefer for it just to be the two of us. But I wanted to do something special. Something memorable.
Tomorrow, that’s all this is going to be. A memory. And I want to make sure it’s a good one.
She eats in silence, savoring every bite of her salmon fillet.
I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s doing a good job of hiding how she’s really feeling. But she’s not.
Every minute or so, she squirms in her seat. And every time she does, my cock jerks.
I knew she’d follow orders and wear the toy I left for her. I didn’t need to check earlier. But I had to. There was no way I’d be able to sit here now only assuming.
I smirk every time she shifts in her seat, desperately trying to get some relief. But it’s not going to happen. In fact, it’s only going to get worse.
I want her begging for me. So desperate she can barely remember her own name.
I want tonight to go down in history. I want her to compare every other man, every other night to this.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Effie asks when she notices I’ve barely touched my meal.
It’s unlike me. I usually devour everything within touching distance. But I’m feeling off-kilter tonight.
“Oh,” I say, letting my eyes drop to her lips and then to her chest. Just like the day she tried it on, her tits look insane. The only difference is that tonight when she—and by she, I mean I—take it off, those beautiful tits are going to fall straight into my hands before I suck her rosy pink nipples into my mouth, driving her crazy. “Trust me, I’m starving.” I lick my lips. “Just not for food.”
Now I’m the one shifting in their seat as I tug at my slacks, trying to give my swelling cock a little more space.
An innocent smile curls at her lips. But I know better now. My best friend isn’t as innocent as she makes out. Especially not after what she’s let me do to her recently. I’m hoping tonight won’t be any different.
“Kieran,” she breathes.
“Damn, I love it when you say my name like that.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she teases.
I bark a laugh, but it’s lacking any actual amusement.
I'd rather gag most of the women I spend time with than be forced to listen to them fake moaning like it's going out of fashion.
Look, without sounding like an arrogant jerk, I know what I’m doing in bed. I’m confident that I could get any woman to orgasm. And I’m happy for them to do that in whatever way they like. What I don’t need is the over-the-top screaming just to increase my ego. As Effie likes to tell me, it’s already large enough.
“Funnily enough, I don’t.”
She rolls her eyes as if she doesn’t believe me. But the truth of it is, the only person I ever want to hear moaning my name is her.
Needing a distraction from thoughts of things I can’t have, I discreetly slide my cell from my pocket.
“I don’t believe you,” she mutters, stabbing a potato with her fork.
“I’d never lie to you, Effie.”
Her eyes jump to mine, and for a second I hate myself for the comment. Although from the wrecked expression on her face, I think she hates it more.
“I know,” she says sadly, aware that she’s done just that recently before stuffing the potato into her mouth.