Page 60 of His to Possess
I look up to see him watching me with a smirk on his face. That’s when I realize he asked me a question while I was completely spaced.Completely thinking about him touching your breasts, you mean.
Face flushing, I stammer, “Sorry, what did you say?”
Before he can repeat himself, the house lights start to go down. “It can wait,” he murmurs softly, leaning back in his chair. His gaze goes down to the stage—but his hand stays exactly where it is.
I’m sure the show is wonderful. The only problem is, I have absolutely no idea what’s happening. It’s too hard to concentrate with Philip sitting so close. His hand on my knee feels like a branding iron, red-hot and possessive. The position is somewhat chaste—a knee isn’t exactly top of the list of erogenous zones. So why is it making my cheeks flush like this?
I can’t stop thinking about the things he did to me on his bed this afternoon. The way he had commanded my body so fully. The filthy things he’d said. The hot velvet feel of his tongue on my clit. The way the orgasm had exploded so very quickly from my body.
And I can’t help thinking about what might have happened if I hadn’t put a stop to it. What would his fingers have felt like inside me? Would we have done even more? Would he have fucked me? I could feel his hard cock pressed against me the whole time he was kissing me. Not that I have any experience, but it was obvious how big he was.
Would it hurt? I have to imagine it would. But the thought of that doesn’t scare me. Because this is Philip. Philip who is always so attentive. Philip who seems to like nothing better than making me feel good. I have zero doubt he would find a way to make my first time good, too.
Is that where this is all leading? Is Philip going to be the one to take my virginity at the club this weekend?
The very thought of my first time being in public has me squirming in my chair. The weird thing? I’m not sure if my reaction is uncomfortable or if the idea of being taken there, by Philip, in front of all those men, is turning me on.
“Easy, love,” his low voice rumbles in my ear and the feel of his hot breath washing over my neck has a full body shudder running through me. “Lilah,” he murmurs silkily, even closer. “You seem a bit out of sorts.” Then he leans in and presses a soft kiss to the skin just below my ear.
I whimper. I full on whimper. Just from a little, closed-mouth kiss. I can’t help it, though. My body is already so sensitive, from his nearness, from his hand on me, from the memories of what happened earlier. Even that slightest bit of contact—his lips against my skin—has me ready to implode.
Philip’s chuckle rumbles against my ear, further heightening my body’s reaction to him. “How can I help, love?”
You can take me back to your penthouse and put your mouth on me again,I think. But I can’t say that. I’ve been a million times braver with Philip than I ever have with any other man, but there are still lines I can’t imagine myself crossing. And asking him to lick me to orgasm is definitely one of them.
But, as ever, Philip doesn’t seem to need a reply to know what I need. That big hand of his slides slowly up from my knee, across my thigh, leaving goosebumps and tingles in its wake. Oh, god.
“Philip—”
“Shh,” he whispers, his voice that delicious shade of wicked I’m coming to love so much. “You wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, would you?”
My eyes dart around the theater. I’d been so caught up in our own little world here in this private box that I almost forgot where we were. But he’s right. There are people all around, in the boxes on either side of us and the seats down below.
My eyes happen to lock on one of those people—a woman seated two boxes away. She’s closer to the stage than we are, and the curving shape of the theater means her body is angled more toward us. It’s hard to see in the dim light, but she appears to be around Philip’s age, dressed every bit as formally as we are. And she’s looking right at me.
A mere second after our eyes meet, Philip’s hand slips under my skirt and I have to stifle a gasp as his fingers trail between my thighs. “Open your legs for me,” he whispers.
The woman is still staring right at me and I wonder if she has some idea of what’s going on in our box. Or maybe she’s just looking because I’m looking at her. I can’t seem to drop her gaze, even as my cheeks flush. Even as I obey Philip’s command and open my legs.
“Do you think she knows what we’re doing?” Philip whispers in my ear, and I jolt, finally managing to tear my gaze from her to look at him. He tsks softly, using his free hand to tilt my chin back in her direction. Oh, god. If it wasn’t obvious I was staring at her before, it sure is now.
“I want you to look at her,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “I think she likes this, love. I think she likes wondering just what we’re up to. What’s putting that pretty blush on your innocent face.”
“Philip,” I whine, squirming again.
“Still,” he orders. “Keep still, Lilah. And keep your eyes on her.”
I do. I can’t not. It’s like there’s a direct link between Philip’s voice and the decision-making center of my brain. I have to obey him when he talks to me like this. When he takes control.
I think she might be blushing too, her breathing coming faster, eyes never leaving mine. Not when Philip slips his fingers under the elastic of my panties. Not when he dances them through my wetness. Not when his thumb presses hard against my clit.
“You like it, too,” he practically growls in my ear. “Jesus, Lilah, you’re so wet for me.”
“I’ve been wet since we sat down,” I admit, and he growls again, lower this time. I shudder again at the sound. He’s so animalistic, so primal. And I love it.
“Would you like it if more people were watching?” he asks, his thumb starting up a steady rhythm against my aching clit. “Would you like if the whole theater had their eyes on you while I make you come?”
I have a sudden flash of that office at Rendezvous. What had the creepy tall man said? That they might have to hold my deflowering in the theater if the crowd was big?
