Chapter Forty-One - I Know Every Sweet Spot

Chapter Forty-One - I Know Every Sweet Spot
Gabe

Her body pressed close to mine, moving sensually against me, making it hard to stay in control. My excitement grows, and she probably already senses it. I didn’t plan to dance with her initially; my goal was to check on her and keep the unwanted guys away. They were disturbing her and irritating her, too. When she asked me to dance, that intense look in her eyes made refusing difficult—which is regular for me. I’d rather dance with her than have her dance alone and let those guys think they can approach her because she’s alone. But it’s definitely not an invitation to them because she was alone. 

Peyton turns away from me, her arm slipping around my neck as she presses her hips against me. Her ass presses against my excitement, and she leans her head back, resting it on my shoulder with closed eyes. The warmth of her body radiates onto mine. I loop my arm around her waist, groaning at how effortlessly her perfect body moves against mine. A pulsating sensation grows within me, making it increasingly difficult to keep my breathing even. I am extremely aroused, and I sense that this is her intention. 

I whisper into her ear, “Peyton, you're driving me crazy. I can’t take it.” My rasp causes her whole body to shudder, and she lets out a loud whimper. 

She opens her eyes to meet mine, and we remain gazing at each other as we dance. Peyton’s tongue flicks along her lips in a subtle invitation. I lean in slightly, bringing my lips near hers but stop just short of contact, allowing her to choose whether to close the distance or pull back. Whatever she decides, I will honour her decision. 

Peyton swiftly makes her decision and closes the gap between us. She kisses me without delay, and a shared moan of pleasure escapes our lips. The kiss quickly turns intense, with our lips battling for control. I rest my hand on her throat, pushing the kiss further. Damn, her lips feel and taste incredible. I didn’t want it to end. 

Peyton parts from the kiss first, both of us panting heavily. She pulls away, turns around, and faces me. A sly smirk appears on her lips as she runs her tongue along them again. I notice her chest rise and fall, likely mine doing the same. Our bodies still desire each other, even if neither of us initially realized it. She remains silent, but after a moment, Peyton winks at me and confidently walks away, leaving me on the dance floor, hard and still hot and bothered.

I compose myself and hurry after her, catching up swiftly. I grasp her hips from behind, spinning her around to face me and pulling her close to my chest, which makes her gasp loudly. She looks up at me. “Can I help you?” 

“Yes! What was that? Are you in one of your teasing moods?” I ask with a raised brow. 

She shrugs her shoulders, gives a sweet smile, and wiggles out of my grasp. “I thought you enjoyed when I teased?” 

She asks the question but doesn’t give me a chance to answer, as she quickly heads back to our table, laughing. I chuckle and shake my head, genuinely enjoying it, but it still isn’t easy. With another groan, I follow her. When I get there, she’s already seated, sipping her drink and smirking behind the glass. 

Anthony and Kaitlyn shake their heads, laughing, likely having watched the entire dance and been entertained by it. They know us well—how Peyton is and how we are when together. They probably enjoyed it because they enjoy seeing us like that. They'll always support us, no matter what.

I ignore them and move to the seat beside Peyton, grabbing my drink and taking a sip. I look at her. “You're enjoying this way too much.” 

Peyton bats her eyelashes at me, tilting her head to the side. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

I place my hand on her knee, gradually moving it upward to her thigh, giving it a squeeze before resting my hand there and softly stroking her inner thighs with my fingertips. She attempts to close her legs but can't, and warmth radiates from her skin. It’s as if she forgets I am aware of all her most sensitive spots that ignite her desire.  

I shift closer and press my lips to her ear again. “It isn’t so much fun being teased, is it?” I whisper, brushing my lips against her neck. 

Her hands clutch the edge of the table as she attempts to compose herself. “I-I-I am fine,” she mutters, shifting slightly in her seat. I notice the warmth emanating from between her thighs. 

She is far from okay. Her words conflict with her physical reactions, and her body reveals the truth, but she’s too stubborn to acknowledge it. 

“Sure you are, sweetheart,” I say with a chuckle. 

“I am!” she protested, attempting to sound more confident this time, but I could see right through it. I chose not to respond with words. 

After giving her thigh one final squeeze, I withdraw my hand. Peyton exhales sharply and swiftly crosses her legs to prevent further teasing. I smirk and settle back, confident that I can match her skill in this game; she ought to realize that by now. I am just as capable of getting to Peyton as she is to me. We never had any issues when it came to our sex life. I haven’t experienced anything like it since the night we spent together. 

My chance to prevent anything from happening is slipping away with each passing second, as we are together. I am not surprised; I knew from the moment Peyton showed up in that damn dress that I was in trouble, regardless of how much I resist. I have no idea what the rest of the night will bring, but one thing is clear: if she ends up completely drunk, then nothing will happen between us.