Page 67 of A Baron of Bonds
It was delicious, better than any of the pies here that I could remember, but with this pull toward Rev, I could barely enjoy it.
“You seem tense.”
“Well, that’s because I am,” I snapped back. I took another bite, the tines of the fork hitting my teeth.
“Can I help you with that?” His voice was low and seductive, beguiling me into finally turning to look at him.
I attempted to swallow the lump in my throat and rasped, “I really don’t see how.”
My cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and I looked around the room. Over half of the tables were filled with people talking and laughing while Ninah darted all around refilling tankards.
“Can I at least try?”
“We’re in the middle of a crowded room,” I whispered, my eyes flicking around again, weighing the risk of what I knew he suggested. I caught Ninah’s eye and she headed for our table.
“Everything good, loves?”
Rev grinned, nodding and replying, “It’s delicious, Ninah, thank you.” He waved his fork in the air casually and continued, “In fact, I think we’ll be a while in finishing it. I’d like to savor every bit of warmth if I can. I’m not sure when we’ll be back here to experience this pleasure all over again.”
His wordplay was not lost on me, and I gritted my teeth.
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I’ll be sure to let Orvan know. He’ll never stop talking about how much the Baron of Felgren enjoyed his fisherman’s pie.”
“Please do. Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like to finish before it grows cold.”
Recognizing it as a dismissal, she nodded, turning quickly, and rushing through the tables, no doubt to tell Orvan himself.
“You could have been a little nicer.”
“I’ve no patience to be nice right now, Karus.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “I’m going to need you to sit over here.”
He grabbed my hips and slid me over his lap, pausing just a moment, before ungraciously plopping me down on his other side.
“What are you doing?”
“Pull up your skirts, Karus.”
I obeyed immediately.
He leaned into the table, his back facing the room as he casually forked another bite. His hand found my leg quickly, pushing aside my undergarment and sliding a finger softly between what ached for him.
This was one way to create new memories in this place, I admitted, opening my legs wide, gripping the table, and attempting to steady my breath.
He scooped at the pie again, this time bringing his fork to my mouth, at the same time he slipped two fingers into me.
I muffled the cry that tried to escape my lips and swirled the food over my tongue, almost choking in an absolute lack of aptitude for eating while being pleasured in a public tavern.
I don’t know how he managed his position, his fingers curling so quickly and right where he knew I wanted them. I gripped his arm, digging my nails into his skin, my head bent forward before quickly falling back to hit the wall behind us.
“If I could get away with it,” he whispered, his breath leaning in close to my ear, “I’d be under this table right now.”
I whimpered, biting my lip. Two of his fingers slid around my swollen center and I burned, pulling a leg up closer to my chest to give him more room to touch me.
He took another bite and then fed me another, ensuring his movements were slow, taking his time, building within me an edge I was thrilled to meet. I shattered, only three bites later, my lungs at their capacity as I opened my eyes, expecting everyone in the tavern to be watching us.
I blinked, finding my focus, relief washing over me as no one so much as glanced our way.
He withdrew his fingers, sucking each one casually.
