Page 158 of The Reason I Married Him
Well, in that case, don’t mind if I do.
I slip one leg over his and then straddle him so my back is to his chest. “Is this okay?” I ask him as his hands find my thighs.
“Fucking great,” he says.
“Now that we’re comfortable,” Lady Marmalade says. “I think we kick it up a notch. Who is ready for some Simon Says?”
The crowd cheers some more, me included this time because I’m completely gone at this point. I’m drunk. I’m horny. And I’m sitting on Wyatt’s lap. Hattie wanted me to have a good time. Well, here I am, ready to do whatever is told of me.
“Now listen closely.” The music starts to play, and Lady Marmalade takes the reins of the room. “For our lappers. Simons says, put your hands on their hips.” Wyatt places his hands on my hips. “Simon Says, put your hands on their thighs.” Wyatt slides his hands down my thighs, sending this wave of anticipation straight to my core. “Simon says put your hands on their tits.” I watch other men and women slap their hands on their partner’s chest but not Wyatt, though. He slides his hands up my thighs, to my hips, up my rib cage, and as I hold my breath from his incredible patience, he slowly covers my breasts with his very large palms.
And then . . . I hear a low growl fall past his lips.
Dear God.
“Now, move them side to side,” Lady Marmalade says. Wyatt holds still, doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe.
“Ahh, Simon didn’t say,” Lady Marmalade says as she tsks some people . . . Brody being one of them.
He holds his hands up and shouts to us, “I like her boobs. I can’t help it.”
I laugh briefly, but that’s until Wyatt caresses my hard nipples with his thumbs.
Fuck.
Me.
“For my sitters, are you ready?” Lady Marmalade says into the microphone. I mean, I think I am, but I’m so distracted. “Simon says lean forward.” Unsure of where she’s going with this, I lean as far forward as Wyatt will allow since he’s still holding me. “Simon says swivel to the right.” I swivel my hips to the right just as Wyatt pinches the tip of my nipple.
“Oh my God,” I moan quietly to myself.
“Simon says swivel to the left.” I swing my hips to the left. “Simon says move in a circle.” I swing my hips around in a circle. “Now give your partner a lap dance.”
Fine by me.
Lady Marmalade gets what Lady Marmalade wants.
I lean back against Wyatt’s chest, lace my hand behind me, and grip the back of his neck. I slowly move my ass over his lap, using him as leverage. His hands slide up my body, and I totally get lost in the feel of him, in the sway of my hips, in the beat of the music.
It isn’t until Wyatt whispers in my ear that I realize what I’ve done. “Simon didn’t say, Aubree.”
“Huh?”
My eyes open wide, and I catch Lady Marmalade staring straight at us, as well as Hattie, Hayes, Brody, and Maggie. I pause my hips as my cheeks flame red with embarrassment.
“Well, honey, I think I wouldn’t be able to help myself either if I were in your position.” The crowd laughs, and I slowly slink off Wyatt’s lap as Lady Marmalade tells the crowd to start clapping together.
The music kicks up, and she starts her number, singing but of course, as Lady Marmalade.
I turn toward Wyatt and whisper, “Sorry about that.”
He shifts in his seat, keeping his eyes ahead, and says, “It’s fine.” But it doesn’t look fine. It looks like he’s . . . irritated. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look like that. He’s always laughing, acting like the fun-loving guy everyone wants to be friends with.
But right now, his brows are set in a stern line, and he’s actually leaning away from me.
“Uh, excuse me,” he says as he gets up from the couch and moves through the crowd toward the bathroom.
“Oh God,” I whisper, feeling foolish.
