Page 106 of Inked in Bloom
Mine, that feral little creature says in the back of my mind. Normally I’d tell her to shut it, but the moment Briar begins reading the passage they’ve selected, every thought, logical reason, and ethical quagmire I’ve associated with him disappears. There’s only the rich, dulcet resonance of his voice, the scent of vanilla sugar flavoring the air, and the rustling of bodies and clothes.
I vaguely notice the couple behind Briar disrobing, following along with his arousing words.
“‘Show me how you like to be touched, wildflower.’ He sits back and undoes the buckle of his jeans…”
Heat pools in my lap, and I rub my thighs together, trying to get comfortable in my seat. I bite my bottom lip and glance around at the other spectators. Hands and lips and tongues graze, stroke, and swirl. There’s a collective carnal enjoyment without a hint of judgment.
“He plunges to the hilt, moving in a steady cadence as he whispers against the shell of my ear.” Briar’s lavender gaze pins me in place, like he’s whispering directly to me. “‘Such a good little mate, taking me so well. Fucking made for me.’”
His voice is all I hear. It’s punctuated by the audience’s pants, whimpers, and groans. Even with the snapping of hips and the jiggling of breasts with each punishing thrust onstage, their sensual movements blur, serving as his backdrop. Everything is kindling for the white-hot desireburning through me. My underwear is soaked and about to be incinerated by the fiery fantasy playing out in my mind, a desperate longing where there’s no glass partition separating his body from mine. Gripping the sides of the chair, I steady my breaths, fighting the urge to find out if the bulge pressing up from Briar’s trousers is as hard as it looks.
Cheers break out, snapping me out of my horny haze. The next reader takes the stage and Briar sits beside me. I nibble my lip and rest my palm on his knee. “You were amazing.”
Would it be too much if I slid my hand up the pleat of his pants…slowly drawing it higher and higher?—
Movement pulls my attention to my left. A harbinger stands there, along with a handful of others, scanning for somewhere to sit since all the chairs are full.
Just as the harbinger begins kneeling on the floor beside my chair, I stop her. “Here. Take mine.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
“Yep. I’m sure he won’t mind sharing.” I nod toward Briar and then stand up enough to shift over and sit right in his lap. I wriggle my hips, trying to position myself comfortably with every inch of his want pressed against my ass.
Briar sucks in a breath and whispers through clenched teeth. “Keep doing that and you’ll ruin these pants.”
“As if you can’t magic yourself another pair.” I circle my hips to emphasize how much I don’t care. He groans, muttering under his breath something about being tortured. So I torture him some more. With a smile on my face. After all, it’s only fair. He’s the one who vowed to tend to my pleasure before revving me up with his sexy reading, so if my restraint is waning, his better be non-existent.
He brings his arm around and bars my legs in place, hand splayed over mythigh.
“‘Look at you,’” the reader says, “‘so wet and ready.’”
“Is that what you want, Dr. Tanner?” Briar presses his lips to my shoulder. My collarbone. The base of my neck. Each brush against my skin vibrates through me. “For me to slide my hand between your legs?”
“Yes,” I rasp, separating my knees, giving him access.
His mouth is reverent, kissing and sucking my skin. One hand works to undo the bottom three buttons of my skirt while the other strokes up my inner thigh, pulling my underwear aside. Two fingers twirl and dip in slightly, slipping with ease from my arousal. I gasp at the perfect intrusion.
“Fuck.” He presses the heel of his hand against my clit. “Drenched and ready for me already?”
When he hovers there, waiting for my approval, I rest my head in the crook of his neck and rub myself against him. “Keep going. Please.”
He continues sweeping in and out, wet sounds not concealing what he’s doing at all. Not that it matters. It’s drowned out by the reader and the gasps and moans filling the bookstore. “You flutter around my fingers so beautifully.”
Beneath me, he’s so fucking hard. I almost lift my undone skirt and beg him to take me right here. Ride him in this seat for anyone to see. I don’t even care. But he holds me carefully, stopping me from grinding on him until he erupts.
“Open your eyes, Dr. Tanner,” he demands, and like the perfectly conditioned PhD student I am, I do. He curls his fingers against my G-spot over and over, making me mindless and squirming. The pressure’s too much. “Look around.”
I scan over the crowd, a few Blooms snaring my attention. We watch each other, bodies rattling, pupils blown. Adeep rasp caresses the nape of my neck. “Does it turn you on, showing them how you take my fingers? How good you’d soak my cock?”
I grind shamelessly against his erection while he finger-fucks me and rubs my clit. The surrounding moans and grunts spur me on. I open my mouth to tell him to take it out so I can prove the truth of his words, but a press of the heel of his palm against my clit and my body spasms, eyes rolling in the back of my head. The orgasm comes on so strong I think I’ll pass out from the force of it.
Briar curses, and his cock twitches beneath me.
“I knew you’d ruin these.” He runs his nose along my jaw and kisses my temple, all the while manipulating my body with the precise circles and strokes it seeks.
Pride swirls in my ribs, ecstasy spinning out where the pressure’s become too much. The room expands and collides. Quaking in his lap, I whimper through another orgasm, shoving my face into my shoulder, muffling my sounds from overpowering the performance.
The last time he touched me, I was sick and mindless, overtaken by solstice. It had been incredible, but hazy. With mental clarity, Briar’s worship is so muchmore, every brush and stroke amplified without the cloud of solstice or our secrets hanging over us.
