Free Wicked Bet: A Bad Boy Romance by Sophie Brooks

I’d just opened my mouth to order my meal from the waiter.  
    From the male waiter, of course. Ian seemed to get a kick out of increasing the vibrations whenever another man was nearby. What’d he think, that this would be less embarrassing for me to be enjoying good vibrations in front of a woman?
    Overall, I didn’t think the pressure was enough to push me over the edge into an orgasm. For that, I’d need something stroking my clit or Ian inside me. But it was definitely enough to keep me turned on. It made me want to jump my husband right then and there. I couldn’t wait for this evening.  
    And he knew it, too. The smug look on his face intensified whenever my breathing grew rapid and my voice became less than steady. This pleased him greatly, and he’d ask me questions and chide me when I lost track of our conversation.  
    After we finished our meal, Ian looked at me with an innocent smile. “You didn’t eat very much. You seemed distracted.”  
    “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I said, determined to show him I could take whatever he threw at me.  
    Ian looked pointedly at my plate, at the chicken I’d barely eaten. “If you’re not in the mood for lunch, we could ask if they have a breakfast menu. Maybe you’d like a couple of eggs?” The vibrator inside me pulsed with more power as he said the last word.  
    Sputtering over the water I’d just sipped, I glared at him.  
    “Whatsamatter, you don’t think you could handle several of them?”
    “I’m fine, thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. But then I couldn’t help smiling. He was so bad.  
    “Then how about some dessert? I think you deserve a treat.” And with that, the vibrations inside me intensified yet again.  
    Oh my god. It was the strongest they’d been so far. I gasped, clutching the edge of the table with both hands. Damn, that was intense. Like a low-grade erotic electrocution. I felt like my whole body would start trembling in a moment.  
    “Something wrong?” Ian asked. Yeah, right. Like I was buying his innocent act. But damn, he was turning me on. He knew what he was doing to me. He knew how he was making me feel. He probably knew how badly I needed to come and how much I wanted it to be from his cock pounding the hell out of me.  
    “I’m fine,” I said, breathlessly.  
    Ian grinned and leaned in. “Any minute now, women from nearby tables are going to tell their waiters, ‘I’ll have what she’s having.’”
    Releasing a deep breath, I resisted the urge to throw my head back, close my eyes, and enjoy the sensation. The vibrations were nearly overwhelming.  
    Ian reached out and pried one of my hands from the table, placing it in his own. Immediately, I latched onto his fingers, squeezing them as hard as I’d been gripping the table.  
    “Holy shit, that’s hot,” he whispered, the teasing look gone from his face. In its place was hunger as he watched me. “Your cheeks are flushed, your chest is heaving ... you’ve got this wild look in your eyes. I want to see that look while you’re riding my cock tonight.”  
    I moaned, still bracing my body against the onslaught of sensation. Did we really have to wait for tonight?  
    Ian seemed to have read my mind. “Or we could go right now. I could take you in the restroom. Behind the building. In your car. Just fuck your brains out and make you explode with pleasure.”  
    Damn, this was getting to me. And to him, too. I knew he was trying to tempt me, to tease me, but he seemed to be getting himself as worked up as I was.  
    “Or we could go straight home,” he said, leaning up against my ear. “I’ll push you over the back of the couch, shove your skirt up to your waist, rip those sexy panties off you, and plunge my cock inside you. I’ll take you so hard you’ll be walking funny for a week.”  
    It was tempting. He was tempting. I knew he was beyond wanting to win the contest. He wanted to fuck me, and I wanted that, too. One thing