“Without the comfortable reclining seats.” Glancing over at her, he saw her tentative smile.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He plopped down onto one of the bags. Actually, since they were in the back, their seats had been pushed farther into a corner, putting a little more space between them and the next couple. It was actually a pretty ideal spot for privacy.
When she was still standing, he reached out and pulled the other beanbag closer to his, until the faux leather material touched and they looked like one big blob. “I like it. C’mon, sit down. The movie will be starting soon.”
He was certain she wanted to say something else, to make another remark about how she didn’t understand why they didn’t have real seats, but she declined. Giving up on that argument was a task for her, he knew—Des loved to get her point across. She sat down beside him, moving a little more in the seat than she had this morning. “You okay? Do you need me to find you another seat?”
“No. It’s not that.” She continued to move until finally settling herself into a groove. “Guess I’ll make a note that silk pajamas don’t really go with beanbag chairs. I’ll probably be slipping and sliding around throughout the entire movie.”
Only because the lights went out at that moment, signaling the movie was about to start, did he bite down on the remark about possibly enjoying her slipping and sliding around as long as she ended up beneath him again.
Someone came by with cartons of popcorn and a choice of bottled waters or sodas. Des took a water and popcorn. He only took a water. For the first twenty minutes of the movie they shared the popcorn and sipped on their drinks, both watching the screen with mild interest. It was when the lube, blindfold and whip were revealed that all thoughts of eating or drinking disappeared.
Des’s eyes were plastered to the screen, and there was no look of surprise or disgust on her face. For that reason, Maurice turned his attention back to the movie and waited to see how the scene would play out.
The man explained things like safe words and complete submission, pleasure and dominance, all while removing the woman’s clothes slowly, one item at a time. Maurice imagined his fingers brushing over Des’s smooth skin as he untied that belt at her waist and slid the top from her shoulders. There was a spot right at the hollow of her collar bone that he’d kissed last night and had been thinking of kissing again. His dick jumped, and he thanked the heavens that he’d had the good sense to wear loose-fitting shorts. Even if she looked over right now she probably wouldn’t notice his growing erection.
He felt it, though, along with the rush of warmth throughout his body as he continued watching the scene. The actress licked her lips, the same way Des had done last night when she’d been standing in his room staring down at his dick. After Des had done that, she’d been on her knees, taking him into her mouth, and he’d been certain he’d died and gone straight to heaven. When the actor on-screen touched the pad of his finger to her tongue and the woman proceeded to lick around the digit, Maurice sucked in a breath. A glance over at Des and he could see her tongue stroking her bottom lip.
It took a few seconds for him to calm himself enough to not roll on top of her—they were in a room full of people, after all. The Dear Lover staff were crafty and very good at creating a sexually charged atmosphere, he’d give them that. But what was he supposed to do now?
Des had brought up the issue of Kelli telling the media about them being there together. If that were the case, or if anyone decided to phone in an anonymous tip, him reaching over to touch Des would possibly give more ammunition. Then again, it was pretty dark in this room and they were sitting in a semi-secluded spot. Before he could ruminate on it any further, Des’s hand moved from where she’d had it resting in her lap up, until it brushed over her breast. The nipple was already hard, and Maurice cursed before extending his hand to touch it.
She jumped when he touched her and then their gazes locked. “Tell me to stop.” It was a plea, and he wondered if he should follow that up by giving her a safe word like the guy on-screen had done. “Please, just say the word.”
Otherwise he was going to continue to circle his finger around her nipple.
Her lips parted, and she inhaled deeply, releasing the breath slowly before blinking. “It feels good.”
That didn’t sound like stop to him, and in the next instant he palmed her breast, squeezing it in his hand until her head fell back against the beanbag. A tiny gasp escaped through her lips.
His gaze was now focused on her breasts, the one he held in his hand and the other that had a pebbled nipple, as well. She had great-sized breasts, a little more than a handful, high and perfect for suckling. If he closed his eyes right now, he’d see them in his mind—delectable mounds with big dark nipples that beckoned him. Reaching his other hand out, he cupped them both, kneading them until the top of her pajamas began to slide open. He already knew she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he wanted to curse his phenomenal luck.
“More?” Asking for permission was a must every step of the way in this precarious situation. There was no plan for what he was doing. He was just following his body’s reaction to her, trusting that hers would respond.
“Yes.” It was a faint whisper, but he’d heard it and he dipped his head. With his chin he eased the material to the side until he could put
