Changing His Game (Entangled Brazen) (Gamers) (10 page)

She hadn’t even made it through the appetizers. “Do you know what you want already?”

He looked at her, and the flame from the candle sparked on the gold flecks in his eyes. “Yes.”

She frowned at her menu. “That was quick. I have no idea what I want. What are you getting?”

He seemed amused by her, his lips tipped up on one side. He pointed to a line on the menu, and she squinted at the words. “
Mussels Fra Diavolo.
” There were no descriptions of the dishes. “What’s that?”

He leaned an elbow on the table and braced his head on his fingers. “Mussels in a spicy red sauce.”

“Don’t put your elbow on the table.”

A bigger smile now. “Why?”

“I don’t know! My mom always said you didn’t put your elbows on the table. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

He stared at her, then slowly took his elbow off of the table. “No, she didn’t.”

Marley sighed. “Well, my mom always harped on the etiquette stuff. I’m not good at it, despite all her nagging. So your mom wasn’t like that?”

She didn’t mean anything by the question, just conversation. Weren’t parents a safe conversation starter? Apparently not, because Austin’s face hardened slightly. “I wouldn’t know. Never met her. She left my father shortly after I was born.”

She’d stepped in it, hadn’t she?
Good job, Mars.
“I’m sorry to have brought that up, Austin.”

He placed a hand at the nape of her neck and rubbed her skin with his thumb. “It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

The waiter arrived with their wine, pouring a small amount in Austin’s glass for him to taste. He did, and nodded, so the waiter topped him off, then filled Marley’s glass. He left with a small bow.

Marley looked over at Austin, who wore a small furrow between his brows. He hadn’t revealed much about his personal life until this moment, and with this admission about his mother, that niggle in the back of her brain began to fade. “I bet you want me to change the subject, don’t you?” she said.

That brought his smile back. “That’d be nice.”

She looked back at the menu. “Okay, so…can I just get chicken?”

Austin threw back his head and laughed, the sound booming into the restaurant. “I take you to Vito’s, which has a month wait list for reservations and serves thousand dollar wine and you want chicken?” He didn’t sound annoyed, he sounded thoroughly entertained.

She placed a hand on his thigh. “This restaurant is gorgeous, and the smells coming from the kitchen are making my mouth water. But I just don’t know…what food to order. I see
pollo
and I get excited and then I can’t figure out what all these words are after it.”

He was laughing again.

“Quit laughing at me! I don’t know Italian! I’m from Pennsylvania Dutch Country!”

He laughed harder, slapping his hand on the table so the silverware rattled.

She glared at him until he was quiet, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. “Are you done?” she huffed.

He leaned in closer, his thigh pressed against hers. “I failed big time on this date, didn’t I?”

That was the last thing she wanted him to think. Especially because she’d never seen him this animated and laughing, even if it was at her expense. She couldn’t stop grinning as she watched this playful side of Austin he so rarely showed. “No! I swear. I love it.”

“You’d love it more of we were getting comic books signed while dressed as… Han Solo and Princess Leia.”

“That’s kind of unoriginal,” she muttered.

“I guess I’ll have to take other measures to improve this date.” He leaned in, his breath hot on her neck. She squirmed as he whispered, “Hands on the table.”

She jerked her head up and looked at him, then peeked around the restaurant. No one was watching them, but still…

“Austin,” she hissed.

“Keep your hands on the table,” he said as he flicked her earlobe with his nose. “You had a long week, in which you showed everyone how good you are at your job. Now, my job is to take control and give you what you need. And I’m quite good at my job.”

Her hands shook in her lap. “Austin—”

“You saying my name like that isn’t helping your case.”

She bit her lip and laid her palms flat on the table. Then she clasped them together in front of her, interlocking her fingers, because that was the only way to keep them in place as his palm slid up the inside of her thigh.

He reached the lace at the top of her thigh-highs and stopped. She smiled to herself as his questing fingers found the clasp connected to her garter belt. He hissed under his breath. “I see that smile. You wore these for me?”

“Of course I did.” Her voice shook as he slid a finger under the strap and snapped it against her skin. “Austin…”

“Shhhh, no one can see. We’re in a corner by ourselves and the cloth on the table hides what I’m doing to you underneath it.”

She breathed, yoga-style, in through her nose, out through her mouth as his hands continued up her inner thigh. “And what are you doing?”

He leaned over and kissed her jaw, just as his hand cupped her over her panties. “I’m going to do my job and enjoy what’s mine.”

She bit back the moan, clamping her molars down on the inside of her cheeks. He pressed his hand against her harder. “And you like that idea, don’t you? Because I can feel how wet you are. I can feel you soaking through this lace.”

She squirmed, and he chuckled.

“So for now, you’ll get my fingers. After dinner, if you’re good, you’ll get my cock.”

She was breathing hard now, like she’d just run a marathon. Austin was the best workout ever. A finger ran along the crease of her thigh and slipped under the edge of her panties. “Are you going to be good?”

She rotated her hips, and thrust slightly into his hand. She licked her lips and turned to look at him. “I’ll be very good.”

His gaze was on her lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”

The waiter arrived at their table with a smile. Austin took it easy on her, his fingers only tracing the edge of her panties as she stumbled over ordering something with
pollo
in it. She had no idea if Austin actually ordered those mussels, because she wasn’t paying attention. She took that opportunity to gulp as much wine as she could.

The waiter looked at her funny and she smiled brightly at him. Probably too brightly, edging on maniacal. Oh well, he didn’t understand what it was like to sit in a restaurant with a man’s hand down his pants.

Or maybe he did.

She shook her head as the waiter walked away.

Austin continued gently tracing that boundary, where lace met skin. She rolled her hips slightly, urging, and Austin tutted under his breath. “You said you’d be good.”

She clenched her hands on the table, her knuckles white. “I’m trying, but you’re driving me crazy.”

His tongue peeked out the corner of his mouth, doing nothing to disguise his smile. “That’s the idea.”

Time passed in a haze. He asked her where she went to college, about her hobbies and what books she liked to read, all while continuing that slow torture under her dress, those fingers inches from where she needed them to be. It was maddening. It was frustrating.

It was exhilarating.

By the time she was done mumbling about
The Walking Dead
graphic novels and how they were better than the TV show, because Lori was less annoying on paper, their food had arrived.

And she was a quivering mess.

Her food smelled amazing, which took her mind off the situation down below for about five minutes.

Until Austin’s fingers curled, pushing her panties to the side, and then a finger dipped into her folds. She could feel how slick she was, and the only indication Austin made that he was as turned on as she was a small catch in his breath.

He picked up his fork with his left hand, and then paused to look at her. He took that moment to slip a finger inside of her. She gasped, and he blinked innocently. “Are you going to eat?”

She squeaked.

“Marley?” His voice was full of false concern.

She took a deep breath and picked up her knife to cut her chicken. It was in a bath of some sort of white wine sauce. The knife slipped out of her hand and clattered when he pumped his finger once.

“Careful, there,” he admonished.

She wanted to hit him.

Instead she picked up her knife and tried again.

After a bite of chicken, that she admitted was heavenly, she found her voice, even though Austin had added a second finger and was slowly pumping them in and out of her. “I didn’t realize you were left-handed.”

He forked a mussel into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “I’m not.”

She frowned and tried to remember if she’d seen him write. “But you’re eating with your left hand.”

He pressed down with the heel of his palm, right on her clit. She pulled her lips between her teeth and bit down. “That’s because my right hand is busy with something a lot more important.” He licked the tines of his fork. “And more delicious, if I remember.”

“Fuck,” she swore under her breath as he swirled the palm of his hand in time with his pumping fingers.

He twirled some noodles with his fork. “I’m actually ambidextrous.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth. Of course he was.

“I used my left hand predominantly before I entered school.” He set down his fork and flexed his left hand. “But then in kindergarten, I saw all the other kids using their right hand, and I began using my right hand.” He flexed his fingers, then, twisted them deeper inside of her. “So I’m pretty good with both.”

“I’d say you are,” she said breathlessly, shoving another forkful of chicken into her mouth. “Lucky me.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up and dark lashes fell over his beautiful eyes as he blinked slowly. “Lucky you.”

His palm pressed over her clit again, sending sparks of pleasure down her legs. “Austin,” she whispered. “Not sure how much more I can take.”

He took a sip of his wine. “Just wait for dessert.”

She ate the rest of her meal in silence, Austin’s fingers doing delicious things between her legs. The waiter took their empty plates away and Austin ordered dessert. Marley was thankful she didn’t have to talk. While they waited, he picked up her left leg and swung it over his thigh. She was stretched open now, completely bared under the table. She braced herself on the booth with one hand, and grasped Austin’s wrist with the other. He was looking down, at his hand disappearing under her skirt.

“I’m going to smell you on my skin for weeks,” he said softly, gaze still on his hand.

Marley squirmed and gripped his wrist tighter.

“I’m going to keep these panties, too. Maybe jerk off with them wrapped around my cock, imagining it’s your lips.”

His mouth. God, it could bring a nun to sin.

She turned to him, staring at his parted lips. “Kiss me.”

He jerked his head up. “What?”

She rolled her hips. “When you picked me up, you didn’t kiss me.”

He blinked, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “I—”

She smiled. “Just kiss me, Austin.”

He reached out and clutched her neck, bringing her face closer until their lips were an inch apart. She could feel his breath on her lips, spicy from his food. “Is this what you want?”

His fingers were working harder now, in and out. She could hear how wet she was. The whole situation was debauched and glorious. She was at his mercy, pinned in his booth, his fingers inside of her, his hand gripping her neck.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I want you.”

He pressed their lips together fiercely, his lips immediately opening, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, not even asking, but taking.

She arched her back and began working her hips, seeking, wanting that release as he fucked her with his fingers and his tongue at the same time. In that moment she was his. He completely owned her. And she loved it.

The release was starting. She could feel it in her spine, in every limb, every damn appendage. She heard herself whimper into his mouth, and her hips pumped harder.

“Can you come before the waiter brings our dessert?” he said against her lips, his fingers working harder.

She hadn’t thought of that. God, the waiter would be able to see all over her face, in the positions of their bodies, what Austin was doing to her.

“He could come back any minute.” Austin whispered. “He’d see you, eyes glazed with lust, riding my hand.”

She was so close. So close. “Austin…”

“Only I get to see you like this. Come, my Evelyn.”

She shoved her face into his neck and bit down on his skin to muffle her cries as the orgasm ripped through her. He worked her the whole time, with those fingers and that hand, extended her orgasm until she was wrung out and weak.

He withdrew his fingers, leaving her empty, and she felt the loss of them keenly. She shuddered against him and unlocked her jaw. But she didn’t raise her head.

A hand sifted through her hair, lips brushed her temple.

“So beautiful.” The words were whispered into her ear. “So perfect.”

She breathed into his neck, trusting that he’d take care of everything. That he’d take care of her. He murmured words to her, his voice a low croon, and she melted into his lap. This wasn’t just about sex anymore. Not with the way he took care of her and soothed her ragged nerves after the week she had.