Page 39 of Coveted

“Watch,” he says.

My stomach flips.

“What if the table breaks?” I ask.

“It won’t.” He offers his hand. “You have your order. Now get up.”

Ignoring his outstretched hand, I climb to my feet. His tongue clicks like he expected it.

Now that I’m standing, I can’t look at his face. I feel exposed already, my palms and back breaking out in a light sweat.

Can I really do this?

Ten minutes is a long time.

“Okay,” I say before I can run for the door. “I’ll do it.”

Making a satisfied sound in his throat, Lucan takes his seat.

Unfortunately I became wet at some point while kneeling before him. What the hell?

The cotton of my underwear clings to my pussy’s increasing slickness. Wanting to hide this new, unwelcome development from him, I resist squirming.

My hands and feet tingle from my uneven breathing. Closing my eyes, I inhale slowly through my nose and hold.

I can do this.

Just pretend he’s not here. Ignore him. After this, I will owe him nothing.

On the exhale, I slip my hands under my skirt. My heart beats so hard I think he might hear it.

Leaning forward slightly, I hook my thumbs under the band of my underwear. I bite my lip, hesitating.

What if he sees my wetness on the fabric? I don’t want him thinking he did that. Even though he kind of did, with his deep voice and almost lazy commands. His forceful aura and monstrous cock. My body just hasn’t gotten the memo that we hate him.

I whip down my underwear, crumple them up, and toss them at my bag. My ears ring and my head swims, like my soul’s trying to leave my body.

Am I really doing this?

The glass edge of the table bumps the backs of my knees. Stealing a glance at the sun-bright mirror under the table, I see my scared face looking back at me.

Why did I wear such a short skirt? The plaid won’t cover me.

But if I wore a longer skirt, he would’ve ordered me to take it off too. He let me keep the skirt on because he knows he’ll still see everything.

I expect him to hurry me. Yet he just sits back watching me like he has all the time in the world, while I try not to hyperventilate.

The longer I stand here, the further I am from freedom. My underwear is already gone. I should just complete the order and move on with my life.

I lower my ass onto the table, my hands pressing against the glass to steady myself.

My skin makes contact and I inhale sharply. The tabletop is freezing cold against my bare, flaming entrance.

Blood thunders in my ears. I try to get comfortable, but it’s impossible. My thighs and ass spread against the glass with nowhere to hide.

I can’t look down at the mirror and I can’t look at him. I can’t bear it. Scrunching my face, I settle for staring at the ceiling and suppressing a whimper.

“Good,” comes the quiet rumble of Lucan’s voice. “Our ten minutes have begun.”