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When a charismatic speaker takes the stand, I’m amused by his lines. I’m laughing at something he says when I feel a hand grasp my knee.
I turn to Damon, who’s solemnly focused on the front of the room, oblivious to the effect he has on me.
I swallow, staring at Julia, who’s too busy laughing to pay any attention to us in the back. Nor does the couple seated with us.
I grab my wineglass, knowing I need to slow down before I end up drunk at a work event. I release a shaky breath as his thumb starts to softly finger my knee, then my thigh.
People start clapping. My eyes dart to the front too. I clap with the crowd, realizing it’s due to the speaker’s joke and not because he finished speaking.
Relief floods through me as well as disappointment when Damon removes his hand to check his phone.
When we finally stare at each other, he lifts his chin up as if daring me to stop him after his hand touches my leg again, this time going straight for his initial target.
Damon checks on Julia before he thumbs my sex over my pink panties. It feels bold—knowing someone could turn around any second and catch us in the act.
I’m too lost in Damon’s touch to care. All I know is that no one can see us from behind, since we have our backs to the wall.
He rubs small and large circles around my clit, and I grasp the table tightly, my head tilting slightly.
It feels so good.
I notice Damon looking only at me, getting brazen, no longer caring about the others. At one point, Julia turns to sip on wine, laughing, before again returning her attention to the stage.
It doesn’t stop Damon.
Instead, he shoves my underwear aside and tests my arousal with his thumb before his finger slips inside.
I can’t think straight.
I don’t care about Julia or my job or the people around us. All I want is for Damon to make me come. That’s all I want right thismoment. To live in the moment, to lose myself as he takes piece after piece of me and keeps some of it for him.
His eyes warn me and I nod, letting him know that I’ll control myself. And I do—I behave.
I sip on more wine while he slowly drifts his finger in and out of me. Until his thumb presses on my clit and I silently lose myself—mind and body—in his chaos.
The faintest trace of a smirk can be seen even in the darkness as Damon eventually cleans his finger by leaving a trail of cum over my inner thigh.
Then he grabs a napkin from the table and wipes off the excess before drinking his wine. He refuses to look my way after, as if nothing happened.
I’m too tipsy and satiated to care.
When the funny guy finally wraps up his speech, instrumental music fills the room as people clap for him, many standing in ovation.
“That was amazing! Don’t you guys think? I can’t remember the last time I heard such a satisfying speech,” Julia gushes. I suspect she’s slightly buzzed herself—her usual reserved self has flown out the window.
“It was definitely most satisfying.” I feel my legs move as Damon’s shoe hooks around my ankle to part my legs beneath the table.
I blush and nod, agreeing with Julia, clearing my throat in the process.
It was a nice speech. The man clearly possesses humor in spades. I can still remember Damon’s speech from our conference in LA, where he was a guest speaker. It might be easier to make a room laugh with cheesy lines than it is to command a room with your presence alone. In my book, only Damon managed to do that.
I can count on my fingers how many times he’s made a joke—all of them delivered when we were alone, with no one to bother us, with no one to witness this other side of Damon.
“It’s Gemma, am I correct?” The other woman at our table—Eva, I think—asks. I nod, and she asks me how long I’ve been working for Damon.
“Since January.” Even I can’t hide my own shock as I register this piece of information. It’s only been a few months since Damon entered my life.
The thought that I’d choose a man I’ve known for so little over one I’ve known for a few years makes me question my sanity.
