His Needs (Billionaire Blind Date Book 2)

by Jacinda Chance

  But Grant spoke to the maître d’, and we were led to one of the booths where black placemats and napkins waited, but no tablecloths. The seat was dark leather that I knew would soon be sticking to the backs of my thighs. I slid into one side, and Grant slid in next to me.

  “Gail Jensen and Lisa Strohm of Jensen, Strohm and Sachs,” he said to me, after he told the server two more were coming but he’d look at the wine list. “Business partners, rumored to be long-time lovers, but they keep their personal lives incredibly private. They’re very pleasant conversationalists and easy to get along with. You’ll like them.”

  He slid his thumb up and down the stem of his water glass, and cut his eyes at me. “They’re both quite gorgeous.”

  I fidgeted a little. “Okay.”

  “Not half as much as you.”

  I took a drink of water, resisting the urge to thank him, and then said, “Are you trying to buy part of their business, too?”

  Grant shrugged, a gesture I hadn’t seen him make often. “Maybe someday. Tonight, I’d just like to have a nice dinner.”

  I squinted and peered at Grant through my lashes. “No ulterior motive? Just dinner?”

  “A nice dinner, with pleasant, beautiful people. Sue me.”

  When Gail and Lisa arrived, I felt far less naked. Both of them wore dresses at least as short and tight as mine, except Lisa’s dress hung loose in the front in sort of a 70’s style draped neckline. But the cleavage went nearly to her belly-button. They were both beautiful. Gail’s deep brown skin was set off by the bright red of her dress, and her short, natural hair complimented her oval face. Lisa’s dress was black like mine, but she had a golden tan rather than my pale complexion and short, blonde hair. The cleavage of her dress also dipped toward her navel, exposing much more skin than mine did.

  And they were lovers. It was obvious to me the moment they sat down. If someone needed to be told they were a couple before believing it, they either weren’t paying attention or were incredibly naive. They looked so happy together, and made a sexy, engaging pair.

  “So you’re Grant’s new girl, huh?” Gail asked

  Keeping Grant’s way of not quite lying in mind, I said, “It would seem so.” And the conversation went from there. They knew Grant well enough to laugh and joke with him, and I found myself laughing, too. Grant’s hand rested on my thigh, patting and squeezing each time we all laughed about something, as if to show his approval.

  They were nice people who weren’t trying to put me on the spot, and I relaxed long before our food came.

  When it did, I moaned softly. My coq au vin smelled heavenly, like it would prove to be the best meal I’d ever had.

  As soon as I put the cloth napkin in my lap, Grant’s hand moved beneath it, sliding from my thigh right between my legs. His fingertips pressed against me, sliding in to rub against my clit. He didn’t look at me while he did this. He smiled and talked to Lisa about how they might have to taste each other’s dishes.

  I curled my toes in my shoes and glanced at him, hoping he’d look at me and see my stop it glare.

  He didn’t.

  I grabbed his wrist and squeezed. His finger tapped, flicked, rubbed faster. I couldn’t budge it without being obvious I was pushing him away, and so far Gail and Lisa hadn’t seemed to notice. His arm didn’t move, after all, just his fingers. The short dress had given him easy access.

  I let go of his wrist—it wasn’t doing me any good—and rested my hands on the table. How was I going to be able to eat like this? It wasn’t just that he was touching me so intimately here where anyone would catch us, it was how I was getting closer and closer . . .

  The server came to pour more wine and refill everyone’s ice water. Grant didn’t even pause in what he was doing. How could they not have seen? Maybe they had and ignored it because he was so wealthy he could get away with anything. Or maybe I thought it was obvious because he was driving me crazy.

  “Yours?” Grant’s voice cut through the haze of pleasure building in my head.

  “What?” I asked, swallowing thickly as I looked at him.

  “I said how’s yours? You haven’t even tried it yet.” He laughed as if I were being silly and used his other hand to grab my fork. He tore free a small piece of the chicken and held it up to my mouth with a huge smile. “Taste.”

  I opened my mouth—I swear I almost cried out as his finger tapped at a slightly different angle, increasing the tension inside me—and he fed me the chicken. I chewed slowly and deliberately, staring at him. I was aware of Gail and Lisa watching us, and I knew if he kept it up, I was going to come sitting right there, and there might be no hiding any of it. My legs opened of their own volition, and I nearly grabbed his wrist again, not to push him away this time but to urge him to do more.

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” he breathed.

  I swallowed. “So good.” And I was almost there, almost, and it was so good I almost didn’t care if the women sitting across from us figured it out. Almost.

  Flick, flick, tap. My nerves burned, my muscles tensed.

  And his hand was gone. I couldn’t breathe for a moment. I think I could have squirmed just right in the seat and made it happen, or maybe even slipped my own hand between my legs to finish. But Grant was talking again, and I had to force myself to understand him.

  “—going to try this. I’m not sure I’ve had this particular dish here before.” He forked another piece of my coq au vin and raised the hand he’d been using to tease me to pull the chicken from the fork. He popped it into his mouth and held the fork out for me to take.

  And then Grant slid one damp finger into his mouth, and then another, licking my slickness from his fingers. “Mmm, best I’ve ever had.” He sucked the final finger into his mouth, with Gail and Lisa staring at him now with smiles on their faces. I don’t suppose too many people at a restaurant this fancy licked their fingers like they were at a summertime barbecue with their families.

  I looked down at my plate, picked up the fork, and started eating. The throb between my legs slowed down but ached to build again, all the way this time.

  After the first couple of bites, Grant’s hand slid under my napkin again. The first tap against my sensitive flesh made me flinch. I coughed lightly to cover the move. As he rubbed me, the pleasure slowly building, I tried to behave normally. I ate, drank, though much slower than everyone else.

  Grant gestured at my plate, rubbing his fingertip between my legs in slow circles. “You really like that, don’t you, baby?”

  I swallowed the mouthful I’d just chewed. “Yes.” Somehow I managed to sound like I wasn’t about to come.

  “Then dessert’s going to blow your mind.” He chuckled.

  Gail nodded and put her hand on her chest. “The chocolate mousse cheesecake here, oh my god,” she moaned, and I wanted to moan like that, right then and there as his finger started up again. “The first time I tasted it I nearly came.”

  My breath caught, but when everyone laughed I managed to let it out. Grant leaned my way. “See, dessert’s going to be orgasmic.”

  Eleven - Grant

  She was so close, again. I could feel the little trembles, the way her clit throbbed under my touch. Her face was flushed, her whiskey eyes shining and her lips wet and pink as she struggled not to give away what was happening. Lisa and Gail didn’t care, if they even knew. Part of the reason I chose them was that I’d seen them do more and get away with it.

  Sophie could come, scream and pound the table, and they’d laugh and say, “I’ve never seen anyone react that way to coq au vin,” and they’d go on eating.

  But Sophie was good at this. Her thighs danced as her muscles clenched and relaxed. I thought she was going to snap my wrist the first time I touched her, trying to push my hand away. All without giving up the game to anyone watching.

  She was so wet I could barely resist dropping the show and plunging my fingers into her, or throwing her onto her back in the booth and sinking deep into her tig
ht little channel. God damn, I was so hard if I’d have stood up my dick would have flipped the table.

  And she kept getting slicker and tighter as I brought her close to coming once, twice, three times, before moving my hand and denying her that final release. If she came while sitting there, everyone would know it. I had no doubt of it—she wasn’t ready for that. And the last thing I wanted was for her to feel embarrassed and humiliated, and resist my advances even more next time.

  That wouldn’t do.

  So instead I brought her to the edge and let her drift back down before starting again. By the time dessert came, Gail had asked her if she was okay—she really didn’t know what I was doing.

  Sophie laughed and fanned herself. “It’s just kind of hot in here, isn’t it?”

  And Gail said, “Baby girl, you’re just overdressed,” and they all had a laugh about that. I reached over and lifted the emerald hanging between Sophie’s tits, brushing her breast with the back of my fingers as I did so, just because I wanted to touch it.

  “I told her this is all she should be allowed to wear, this and heels.”

  Gail nodded. “Sexy.”

  Sophie’s face went a deeper shade of pink, and god I wanted to see her thrash in her seat, coming against my hand, totally unable to help herself or keep up appearances.

  Instead, I took a small bite of cheesecake and stroked her slowly enough to keep her on edge during dessert without letting her come. That was for after dessert, outside.

  Sophie felt naked and exposed in the dress I’d bought her now. But she had no idea what was in store, or how exposed she was going to be by the time I was done with her that night. I didn’t even have to worry about whether or not she’d go along with it.

  Sophie would do anything I wanted her to, eventually. She sat there, letting me finger her in one of the most expensive restaurants in the city with barely any protest. I knew there’d still be times it would take punishment and persuasion to get her to come around, but that was fine by me. I hoped for that. I ached for it.

  In the end, though, she’d do whatever I wanted. When we left the restaurant, she’d be mortified at first, but I’d still get her to obey. She’d give in to me, because she needed what I offered more than I ever realized.

  I hurried through a dessert normally savored with the need to prove to her again how helpless she was against me. How my desires would always overcome her hesitations.

  Sophie was mine to do with whatever I pleased, and we both knew it. Her eyes, gone a deeper amber with lust, might as well have spoken aloud at how badly she needed everything I wanted to give her.

  I stared into her eyes and felt a rush of heat in my stomach and chest. I was already stone hard, but this was different. Unfamiliar. I didn’t—

  Sophie’s pussy twitched, and her legs closed to keep my fingers in place. She slammed her hand onto the table and sent her spoon clanking against my plate. My cock throbbed and my heart pounded—I’d forgotten what I was doing, lost control and hadn’t stopped in time, and now right there at the table—fuck.

  Sophie’s back arched as she gave a strangled cry and came hard against my hand.

  *****

  Thank you for reading “His Needs!”

  Don’t miss “His Passion,” Billionaire Blind Date Book Three.

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