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"Come here, Noah," Silas says, reaching for me across the table. I take his hand, entwining my fingers with his, and he leans in, caressing my cheek with the other hand before kissing me on the lips. "You just look so pretty tonight," he says. "Likea princess."

He reaches for the strap of my white sundress that keeps slipping from my shoulder and slides it back into place before kissing me again.

"A slutty princess," Tate says. He grinds up into my backside, ensuring I feel him hard against me. "Everyone is looking at you now, Noah. Do you like that?"

Smiling, I pull away from Silas and look around the small, dark space. The female bartenders are staring at me, whispering, the look in their eyes something akin to disgust.

Men stare, too, but not with disgust. There's something else in their eyes. Lust, sure, but that's not all.

I think it's anger. They're angry at me for participating in this.

Or maybe it's more because I'm enjoying it.

"Well, do you?" Tate asks again. "Answer the question, Noah."

Cheeks burning, I look back at him and nod, hiding a smile as I take a sip of my beer.

"Good," he says. "And you do look really pretty. You're the prettiest girl here."

I scoff at what I think has to be a lie.

"What's funny about that?" he asks, his fingers lightly running up the inside of my thigh. Before I can object, he slips them inside my underwear, quickly finding my clit, and I gasp. "Nothing's funny now, is it?"

"No," I pant. "It's not funny."

"Spread your legs more," he says.

I instantly obey, letting my legs fall open and biting back a moan at the heightened sensation that follows.

"I love how sensitive you are," Tate says. He locks his other arm around my waist, holding me tightly in place while rubbing small, slow circles over my clit with two fingers.

Silas leans back in his seat and looks under the table. "Jesus…" he says. His jaw tightens as he takes a swig of his beer.

"Tate…" I whimper quietly. "You have to stop, or I'm…"

"I know what I'm doing to you," he says. "It's okay. Just let it happen."

"Mmm…Tate, I…"

But my squirming in protest is only making what he's doing to me more noticeable.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yeah," I say, wriggling my hips, riding his fingers before I realize it and force myself to stop. "Yeah, it feels really…oh, god, it feels really good."

"Lean back a little," he says, sucking on my neck. "Come on."

I scoot my ass further down his legs and lean into him, crying out before I can stop myself as his fingers swirl around the sensitive spot at this new angle.

I quickly cover my mouth with my own hand. Fuck…I really am going to come right here in front of everyone. It's too late to stop it now.

I grit my teeth, digging my nails into his thigh, and then turn, burying my face in the side of the booth. I barely make a sound when I come, but the orgasm wracks my body all the same. I shiver as the waves of pleasure roll through me, and under the table, Silas rubs my thigh, comforting me until it's over.

Once I can breathe again, I risk opening my eyes. I feel the flush in my cheeks and don't dare look at anyone other than Silas.

"I kind of hate you for that, Tate," I say, biting back a smile.

"Yeah, right," he says, wiping his wet fingers on his jeans before grabbing his beer.