Chapter 260: Right Under The Table

Holly’s POV

Just then, Tyler’s ringtone shattered the tense air like a gunshot in a library.

That stupid, over-the-top orchestral default tone he never bothered to change.

He fished the phone out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, and the entire table seemed to freeze mid-breath. Forks hovered. Wine glasses paused halfway to mouths. Even the low jazz in the background felt like it got quieter.

Tyler’s eyebrows pinched together. He muttered under his breath, “Shit…home,” so low I barely caught it.

Then he looked at me…really looked…and something flickered in his eyes. Not the playful boyfriend act anymore. Something softer. Almost guilty.

He leaned toward me first. “Babe, I have to take this. It’s from the folks back home. Might be important.”

Before I could even nod, he turned that million-dollar smile on the whole table, the one that probably made receptionists forget their own names.

“Sorry, guys. Family call. Won’t be long.” Then, with perfect comedic timing, he pointed a mock-stern finger at David. “And Mr. Hunt? Don’t let my girlfriend slave away even at dinner, alright? She’s off the clock.”

He winked at me, squeezed my shoulder once, and strode out like a man who knew every eye in the room followed him.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Thick, choking, delicious silence.

Norman cleared his throat like he was auditioning for a cough-medicine commercial. “Well. Dave, you can’t possibly bring work to dinner. Let the girl breathe before her boyfriend sues us for overworking employees.”

He lifted his wine glass in a lazy salute and took a long, dramatic sip.

“As if,” David muttered, his jaw ticking so hard I thought I heard bone crack.

Amber, bless her chaotic soul, jumped right in. “Okay but can we talk about how classy Tyler is? Like…that shirt? Those cufflinks? I bet his watch costs more than my rent.”

“Probably more than all our rents combined,” someone else muttered.

“He’s giving old money vibes,” another girl sighed dreamily. “And the way he looks at Holly? Whew. I need that energy in my life. How did you bag a guy like that, Holly?”

David’s fork scraped his plate again. Violently.

I felt the heat of his stare before I even looked up in his direction. When I did, his eyes were black, hooded, furious. He didn’t say a word. He just reached under the table, grabbed the leg of my chair, and yanked.

My chair scraped loudly across the hardwood but no one seemed to notice. They were all deep in their conversation about wealthy people.

I slid right up against him, thigh to thigh, so close I could feel the angry heat rolling off his body.

He leaned in, voice so low it vibrated against my ear. “I told you to end whatever bullshit game you’re playing with him. And you brought him here…to spite me?”

My heart slammed against my ribs. Anger and something dangerously close to excitement twisted together in my stomach. He's jealous and I am loving it.

I turned my face toward him, close enough that our noses almost touched. “You don’t get to tell me who I can date, Boss. And what the hell does me bringing my boyfriend have to do with you?”

His growl was quiet and cold. “Everything.”

Then his hand disappeared under the tablecloth.

Long fingers slid over my bare knee, then higher, pushing the hem of my dress up without hesitation. My breath caught in my throat as heat spread all over my body.

“David—”

“Shh.” His voice was lethal silk. “Keep talking, princess. Keep pretending. But I’m warning you right now…if you don’t stop this little show, I’ll make you moan so loud your perfect boyfriend will hear it from the hallway.”

I tried to shift away. His grip on my thigh tightened, possessive, bruising. Then those wicked fingers slipped beneath the lace edge of my panties, pushed them aside like they personally offended him, and—

Oh God.

He found me soaked.

A soft, but loud involuntary gasp slipped out before I could stop it.

Every head at the table swiveled.

“You okay, Holly?” Amber asked, eyebrows raised.

I slammed my elbow on the table to steady myself, forcing a smile that felt like glass. “Yeah…yeah, fine. Just…swallowed wrong.”

One of the guys snickered. “Damn, missing your man already? He’s been gone for like two minutes, and you're already like this."

I opened my mouth to fire back something sarcastic…and David curled one long finger inside me, slow, deliberate, stroking that spot that made my vision blur.

“Oh God,” I breathed.

The table laughed, thinking it was a dramatic reaction to the teasing.

“Yesss…I do,” I managed, voice shaking. “I miss him…so much.”

David’s eyes flashed dangerously. Punishment. He wants to punish me.

He added a second finger, thrusting deeper, harder, while his thumb found my clit and circled with cruel precision.

I gripped the edge of the table so hard my knuckles bleached white.

Conversation continued around us like nothing was happening. Amber was ranting about how complicated relationships are. Norman was complaining about the new tax laws. Someone asked me a question about the case…I have no idea what I answered. All I knew was David’s fingers fucking me under the table in slow, punishing strokes while I tried not to cry out.

Sweat beaded on my forehead.

“You’re sweating, Holly,” one of the girls said, concerned. “Is the AC broken?”

“Maybe it’s the jacket,” I choked out. “It’s suddenly hot in here.”

“Then take it off, girl!” Amber laughed.

I couldn’t even lift my elbow. If I moved, I’d shatter.

David didn’t stop. He didn't even pause for a bit.

He kept circling, slower this time, more deliberate, like he was savoring every slick inch of how ready I was for him. Two fingers, then three, stretching me just enough to make my eyes flutter. His thumb stayed merciless on my clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles that had my hips twitching under the tablecloth.

Sweat was rolling down the back of my neck now. My forehead glistened. My upper lip was damp. I looked like I’d run a marathon in this stupid jacket.

“You’re literally dripping, Holly,” Amber said, half-laughing, half-concerned. “Take the jacket off, girl, before you melt.”

“Yeah, seriously,” one of the guys chimed in. “The AC is working alright. But you still look like you just left a sauna.”

I tried to laugh. It came out as a strangled little sound. Inside my head I was screaming something very different: I’m doing a hell of a lot more than sweating down here.

I could feel it…hot, slippery, obscene amounts of me coating David’s fingers, dripping down the insides of my thighs. Every time he dragged his knuckles back out, there was this slick, wet sound I was terrified someone would hear over the clink of silverware and the low murmur of conversation. My core kept fluttering around him, greedy, desperate, like it had a mind of its own.

He curled his fingers again…hard…and I felt the pressure build so fast my vision whited out at the edges.

Oh no. Oh fuck no.

I tried to clench, tried to hold it back, but David angled his wrist just right, pressed up against that swollen, spongy spot inside me, and rubbed.

My thighs started to tremble.

I pressed my knees together instinctively, trying to trap his hand, trying to stop the inevitable…and he growled low in his throat, so quiet only I heard it.

Then he did something crueler.

He hooked his ankle around mine, yanked my legs apart wider, and braced his knee between them…locking me open. My right leg was pinned against his thigh, hostage, no chance of snapping shut even if I wanted to. I was spread out for him, helpless, dripping onto the chair beneath me.

The first squirt came without warning.

A hot, sudden rush that soaked his palm. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. My whole body jerked once…small, but violent…and I had to slam both hands flat on the table to keep from sliding down in the chair.

“You sure you’re okay?” someone asked again.

I nodded frantically. “Y-yeah…just…hot flash…or something…”

David’s fingers never slowed. He kept a serious face ahead. No one knew what he was doing to me.

He kept pumping, shallow now, fast, letting the heel of his hand grind against my clit on every upstroke. Another gush. Then another. I could feel it running down the back of my thighs, pooling under me. The chair was going to be ruined. I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.

My hips were rocking again…tiny, helpless little movements I couldn’t stop. I was trying to match his rhythm without looking like I was humping the air in front of my entire team. Every time I pushed forward he rewarded me with a deeper thrust. Every time I pulled back he punished me by dragging his fingertips over that spot until my eyes rolled.

I was going to come.

I was going to come hard, right here, in front of everyone, with Tyler due back any second.