Page 52 of Passionate Defense

“At least you stuck something where it belonged.” Tapping her bottom with his fingers, she gasped as the plug shifted. “Brave girl. I’m pleased.”

A throat clearing behind them had Ethan straightening and offering his arm. “Our table is ready, gorgeous. Let’s go.”

They followed the host to a dimly lit corner booth. Standing aside, he played the part of a gentleman, allowing her to slide in first. Lanie knew better and shot him a panicked look. Sitting with the plug would be yet another new and challenge experience.

“Something wrong, my dear?”

“Um, no...sir.” Leaning to her side, she slid in on one cheek. She thought she had accomplished it without too much trauma and was reaching for her napkin, but Ethan waved her over farther. She frowned at him. He rarely sat on the same side, unless...

“Slide over,” he ordered.

She had thought he was merely evil, but she was wrong. He was diabolical and fully cognizant of what he was doing to her. Moving along the padded bench, she let out a little yelp as the plug suddenly shifted. She yelped again when he sat, and his weight displaced the cushion beneath her.

Her eyes jerked to the waiter to see if he noticed. Naturally, he had and was eyeing her with open curiosity. “Sore muscles from hiking over the weekend,” Lanie improvised.

She thought she heard a chuckle from Ethan, but his face was controlled when he asked for the wine list, which sent the man quickly scurrying away.

“I’m trying to think of words worse than evil and diabolical to describe you, but I’m at a loss.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and curled her against him. This time, the yelp was quickly replaced by a low groan.

“Poor baby,” he whispered. “Are you wet and aroused filled with my wicked plug? Consider us even. I’m as hard as an oak tree thinking about how it should be me inside you instead of a cheap piece of latex.”

“I don’t think I can eat dinner this way, Ethan.”

“Of course, you can. And it’s Mr. Fischer, or sir. Remember, you are on probation, Miss Langston. I’d strive for pleasing me, however possible, because you dug a bigger hole for yourself by being late and glaring at me.”

Lanie could hardly process what he was saying while trying to keep pressure off the plug seated deep in her bottom. If that wasn’t enough of a distraction, his fingers caressed her bare shoulder, making slow circles with the tips. Her nipples contracted painfully. She glanced down at the lavender silk to see if they were showing. They weren’t, not until Ethan’s thumb flared out and grazed one.

Leaning against him and burying her face in his neck, she whispered, “You’re Satan in a Brooks Brother’s suit, sir. I should call your wife and tell her what a pain in the ass you are—literally.”

He broke character and laughed out loud. “You would know, my dear.” He was still chuckling when the waiter returned with the wine list.

Ethan selected a Chardonnay, which went perfectly with the crab risotto they always ordered when they came to Mariano’s.

In a few moments, he returned and poured their first glass.

“We’d like to unwind before we dine,” he told the eager to please young man after he ordered. “Bring our meal in about an hour. I’ll signal if we need anything before that.” He passed him a folded bill. “No exceptions.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, nodding in understanding then went away again.

She hadn’t swallowed her first sip of the excellent vintage when Ethan shifted toward her, his broad shoulders eclipsing the candlelit restaurant behind him. “Pull up your skirt and spread your legs. I want to see for myself the effects of that plug.”

Lanie nearly choked as she processed his outrageous demand. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can because I am.”

“But—”

“You’re already on shaky ground,” he cautioned. “Don’t add disrespect and disobedience to your list of infractions.”

Reading her uncertainty, he leaned in and whispered, “It’s dark. The tablecloth is long and I’m blocking you from the other tables. No one will see. Not even me. And only I will feel.”

She gasped because now all she could think of was his fingers inside her. With as little movement as possible, Lanie tugged her tight skirt up her thighs. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Not good enough,” he said when she stopped squirming. “I want your beautiful bare ass touching the seat.”

Groaning softly, she arched her hips and pulled it up to her waist, being careful to keep the tablecloth in place. His hand grazed her upper thigh and then slid between her legs.

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