Page 71 of Break the Ice

Shit.

“You wouldn’t happen to know about that, would you, Sugar?”

I part my lips, lose my voice, then try again. “It sounds like you have your mind made up.”

“You’re right. I do. Take off your panties.”

A laugh of disbelief puffs out of me. “We’re in the middle of the crowded dining?—”

“Take off your panties. Put them on the table.”

His order’s so shocking, so outrageous, heat sears through me, flooding my body. My cheeks burn and I become acutely aware of how many people surround me. Each move I make begins to feel under surveillance.

Any one of the dozens of people nearby could see me.

As Rafe sits across from me and awaits my obedience, he couldn’t look more satisfied. He’s loving every moment of this. Right down to watching me flush and throw paranoid glances around us.

“Fine,” I grit out, carefully dropping my hands to the seat of my chair. I throw another cautious glance around the circular room, then slump my body lower. I reach under the hem of my dress, moving slowly, so subtly you’d never know unless you were staring for longer than a few seconds. My hands slip under the short metallic fabric, skimming up my thighs ’til they reach the band of my panties.

I hold Rafe’s gaze as I begin the slow-working shimmy out of them. My hips raise off the seat and I slide the fabric down inch by inch. An immediate gust of cool air brushes against my pussy and reminds me how risky this is.

It makes me keenly aware of how empty I am. An emptiness that prompts the beginnings of an ache.

Not again.

The second my pussy pulses, I’m a lost cause. The same had happened during the previous two rounds. As Rafe tethered me to his bed and pulled out the riding crop, I’d felt so obscene but so turned on by the situation. I was restrained and exposed. I was at his mercy, seconds away from being punished by a man I should hate.

I’d glared at him, and he’d brought the crop down. Then I’d screamed and shook. I’d dripped with arousal as each lash brought me closer to one of the hottest, strongest orgasms of my life. By the time I came, my pussy was on fire. I was bereft of all logic and reason.

I’d never been so satisfied.

My panties slip to my ankles, and I step out of one leg hole and then reach down to pull them off the other foot. The fabric’s curled up inside my hand as I sit up straight, and, as discreetly as you can do something so ridiculous, I place the pair on the table.

Rafe’s lips quirk into a slightly wider grin. “Nice. Such a talented whore. I knew there was a reason I decided to keep your secret.”

“Mr. Golding, is there anything else I can get you and your guest?” the waiter asks out of nowhere. He pops up at the side of our table with an enthusiastic smile pasted onto his face…

…until he spots the lacy bunched up pair of panties in the middle of the dinner table.

My hand slides over my eyes as I shake my head and Rafe gives a loud bark of a laugh.

“Um,” the waiter says, his face reddening, “I’ll circle back in a few… um, minutes.”

“That was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while.” Rafe’s laugh only dials up the burning humiliation.

“You asshole,” I growl. “You knew someone would see them.”

“They’re a nice pair. I bet they’re wet with those pussy juices, aren’t they?”

I’m hot all over, feeling like the entire room must be staring. I’m too humiliated to take a look around and find out.

“Spread your legs, Sugar,” Rafe says, leaning closer. “I want you to spread them wide and then part those pussy lips for me.”

No. No-no-noooo!

I’m speechless. I sit there, burning up, consumed by a hot flame of embarrassment. This has become too much. This has crossed a line.

He’s out of his mind. He’s actually insane.