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Right now, I know everyone is gathering in the ballroom, cocktails in hand, as dinner preparations are underway. The air is filled with excitement, but there's a thread of nervousness that winds its way through me.
I find myself retreating to our suite, nerves getting the best of me. I've never been in the presence of so many important people before, and the pressure feels suffocating. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, smoothing down my dress with trembling hands.
Suddenly, the door opens, and there's Malcolm—my anchor in this sea of uncertainty. His eyes meet mine, and I see the understanding there.
"Melody," he murmurs softly, crossing the room to stand in front of me. His presence alone is soothing, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. "You look breathtaking."
My heart skips a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through me. "Thank you."
He offers me a gentle smile, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. "Nervous?"
I nod, my eyes dropping to the floor. "More than I thought I'd be."
His thumb lifts my chin, his gaze intense yet reassuring. "You have nothing to worry about. You belong here just as much as anyone else."
His words fill me with a sense of confidence, a reminder that despite my humble beginnings, I've found a place beside him. His touch is a steady presence, and I decide that tonight, his cockiness and self-assuredness can be mine, too.
"You know," he continues, his tone turning thoughtful, "if we leave now, we can head to the dining room before everyone else. We'll be able to greet them individually, instead of being surrounded by a crowd in the ballroom."
The idea appeals to me, a way to ease into the evening without feeling overwhelmed. I meet his gaze, affection welling up within me. "You always know what to say."
He chuckles softly, his fingers intertwining with mine. "I’m going to let you in on a little secret. You’re the only person in this building tonight that I like. Come on, let's face the night together."
With his hand in mine, the nervousness that had gripped me starts to ease. Malcolm leads me out of the suite, his presence a shield against the world outside.
As we make our way down, his fingers brushing against my knuckles, I feel a surge of excitement. Whether it outperforms my nerves, I’m still not sure.
We’ve been over the way the night will play out a few times. Just like Malcolm said, the dining room is set for dinner, but the food will be brought out in courses.
So right now, it’s totally empty. We take our place at the front of the table. Malcolm knocks on the dining room door a few times when he sees that I’m still shaken and comes back with a glass of champagne for me.
“Something to take the edge off,” he says, handing it to me. I take a grateful sip, the bubbles exploding on my tongue, and try to relax.
“When we open the doors, people will start to trickle in. I’ll introduce you but don’t worry about getting into any deeper sorts of conversation, especially about their businesses and industries. These sorts of events are all about appearances.”
I nod, continuing to nurse my drink. Malcolm slips into the seat beside me, his hand rubbing up and down my leg comfortingly. Except…it’s moving higher, and the sensation becomes less about comfort and more about something a little…naughtier.
I can literally hear people outside the door. What is he thinking?! “Malcolm…” I hiss, my breath catching in my throat when an especially adventurous finger grazes higher than the rest.
“Are you embarrassed?” he growls into my ear, his hand sneaking from my upper thigh higher and higher.
“Not embarrassed,” I say through gritted teeth, biting back a moan at the end of it. “But they will all be here any second, Malcolm.”
“As if I care,” he laughs, his hand never stopping. “All of these assholes spend most of their time wishing they could be like me, and that means they’re going to try and get something that belongs to me any chance they get. So even if we do get caught, it will let them all know that you’re mine and that they better not even think of even speaking to you.”
His possessiveness should turn me off, but of course, it does the exact opposite. It awakens something in me, and I revel in the feeling of being…his.
Everything that would have made me cringe coming from any other man just makes me melt with Malcolm. It strikes me that the reason is because when other men try to act like they own the world, it comes off fake, like a pretender.
But Malcolm…he oozes control. He wears that identity so perfectly, so naturally, because it is him. Malcolm Mayfield might as well own the world, and I think that if he really wanted to, he could.
It’s why when he pulls the skirt of my dress up just enough that he can get his hand underneath, right where the slit in the leg is, I don’t push him away.
Instead, I look at him, knowing that my lids are low and my breath is coming in short pants. Because I want him to touch me. I want him.
The butler will be escorting all the dinner guests, who are finishing up the cocktail hour right now, into the dining room any minute. It makes the way he pulls my panties aside and slips his fingers along the seam of my already-wet pussy all that more scandalous.
Seated at the dining room table, knowing that we’re just a room away from dozens of millionaires, billionaires, and celebrities, has me gasping for air. It’s so dirty. So risky. And I don’t want him to stop.
