Ethan
I returned to the table with my cock still rigid and aching against the zipper of my trousers, every step a fresh torment.
The cool air of the restaurant did nothing to temper the heat still crawling beneath my skin, and I knew if Aleena so much as looked at me the wrong way, I’d lose what little composure I had left.
But she wasn’t looking at me.
She was staring at her wine glass like it held the secrets to the universe, her fingers wrapped around the stem so hard I could see the whites of her knuckles.
The memory of her standing in that restroom doorway, her eyes dropping to my cock with that flash of hungry recognition, sent another pulse of need straight through me.
I wanted to drag her back in there, lock the door, and finish what my hand had started.
I wanted to watch her drop to her knees.
I wanted to hear her beg again.
Fuck.
Meredith beamed as I slid back into my chair.
“Everything alright, darling?
You were gone quite a while.”
“Fine,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than intended.
I reached for my wine glass and drained half of it in one swallow.
“Just needed to freshen up.”
Under the table, I felt a deliberate brush against my calf.
Then again, higher.
Aleena’s foot, sliding up the seam of my trousers with infuriating slowness.
I froze.
She still wasn’t looking at me.
Her expression remained perfectly neutral as she lifted her wine glass to her lips, but her foot continued its torturous ascent, tracing the inside of my thigh.
I gripped her ankle hard beneath the table.
My fingers dug into the delicate bone, a warning that I intended to be unmistakable.
But instead of pulling away, she pressed her foot higher, her toes grazing the very place I was most desperate for relief.
A dangerous dark thrill shot through me.
“Aleena,” I said, my voice low, “aren’t you going to eat your dinner?
The chef will be offended.”
Her eyes finally met mine.
She looked innocent, almost bored.
But I could see the fire beneath the surface, the same fire I’d witnessed two years ago in a dimly lit bedroom when she’d been too scared to touch herself and I’d had to guide her trembling hand.
“I’m not hungry,” she said sweetly.
“But thank you for your concern.
Ethan.”
I squeezed her ankle harder, my thumb pressing into the tender spot just above her heel.
Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and I felt her foot go still.
“More wine, darling?” Meredith asked, oblivious to the war happening beneath the table.
She gestured to the waiter before I could respond.
“Another bottle for my future husband!”
“Of course, Mrs.
Sinclair,” the waiter said, already reaching for the empty bottle.
“Actually,” I said, releasing Aleena’s ankle and sitting back, “I think I’ve had enough for one evening.
It’s been a long day.”
“Oh, but the night is still young!” Meredith pouted.
“I was hoping we could discuss the engagement party.
I’ve been thinking about a garden theme, maybe at your Hamptons estate?
I’ve heard the roses there are simply divine.”
“Roses,” Aleena repeated flatly.
“How romantic.”
I shot her a look that should have silenced her, but she simply raised one delicate eyebrow at me, unimpressed.
The little brat.
“Another time, Meredith,” I said, keeping my voice even.
“I have meetings early tomorrow.
But I’ll have my assistant send over some dates for the party planning.”
Meredith’s pout deepened, but she knew better than to push.
The arrangement was clear: she got the status, the money, the security.
I got a wife who would smile pretty for the cameras and ask no questions.
She’d agreed to that when I’d proposed this farce of a marriage, and she knew as well as I did that pushing too hard would jeopardize everything.
“Fine,” she said, rising gracefully.
“But you’ll have to make it up to me, darling.
Perhaps a weekend away?
Just the two of us?”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
“We’ll see.”
Meredith turned to Aleena.
“Come along, sweetheart.
Let’s get you home.
You’ve been positively dreadful tonight.”
Aleena rose from her chair, and I caught a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
She’d won that round, and she knew it.
“Goodnight, Mr.
Westwood,” she said, her voice dripping with false politeness.
I watched her walk away, that modest little black dress hugging her hips in a way that made my jaw tighten.
Her mother was already chattering about the car service, and Aleena was nodding along like the perfect daughter, but I knew better.
I couldn’t sleep when I got back to my penthouse.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my mind a replaying images of Aleena, her parted lips, the sound of her voice.
Two years ago, I’d been a different man.
Less careful.
More willing to indulge my darkest cravings.
And now here she was, my fiancée’s daughter, living in my fucking orbit like some kind of divine punishment.
I threw off the covers and stalked to the shower, turning the water to freezing.
But even the cold couldn’t calm away the need that had been building in me all night.
I wrapped my hand around my cock, which was already leaking at the tip.
I closed my eyes and began to imagine Aleena’s lips around me.
“Just be a good girl, Aleena.”
I stroked myself harder, faster, my fist sliding over the swollen length.
The water streamed down my chest, but I barely felt it.
I was lost in the memory of her, in the fantasy of what I couldn’t have.
I imagined her mouth wrapped around my cock while I tangled my fingers in her hair and fucked her throat.
I imagined bending her over the marble sink and taking her from behind, watching my reflection as I drove into her over and over until she screamed my name.
“Fuck,” I groaned, my hips thrusting into my fist.
“Aleena.”
I came with a shudder, my release spilling over my hand and mixing with the water streaming down the drain.
I leaned my forehead against the cold tile and breathed hard as I tried to calm myself.
Pathetic.
That’s what this was.
I was a grown man, a powerful man, and I was reduced to this.
Wanting a girl that was well younger than me and well out of my reach
But even as the shame settled in, I knew it wouldn’t be the last time.
She was in my life now, and I was too weak to stay away.
I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower.
“Get it together, Ethan” I muttered to myself.
But Aleena was a complication I hadn’t anticipated.
A temptation I couldn’t resist.
And the worst part was, I didn’t want to.
I didn’t want to at all.