Nights Burn With Regret — by Nathan Perez 53
Those soft thighs refuse to lot me go
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Those soft thighs refuse to let me go
Violet
If looks could kill, Hades would have been six feet under by how. No, twelve feet under. And buried twice, just to
be safe.
But of course, my glare had no effect on him. He couldn’t care less. He sat there like the devil himself, calm and smug, continuing what he was doing as though my rage was nothing more than a light breeze.
I’ve learned something about Hades, never doubt him. Anything you think no sane human would dare to do, he would. And not only would he do it, he’d do it with that infuriatingly proud smile tugging at his lips.
My face burned hotter. His blue eyes were locked on me, amusement flickering in them. He knew exactly what he was doing. His large hand was still between my legs, his thumb tracing lazy circles along the inside of my thigh.
I didn’t know whether to hate him for it or hate myself more, because that simple movement had already lit something inside me. And he knew. He thrived on seeing me like this, on knowing he was the one making me lose my mind in front of a room full of powerful men who had no clue what was happening under the tablecloth.
A cough cut through the haze in my head. I jerked my gaze upward. The middle–aged man who had been speaking earlier was looking at me with concern. “Are you okay, miss?”
I snapped back to reality, forcing my lips into something that resembled a smile. “Y–yes, I apologize.”
He shook his head quickly. “Please, don’t apologize, miss. As long as you’re fine.”
I was not fine. I wasn’t even close to fine. I felt like I was seconds away from losing my entire sanity and there was nothing I could do about it without causing a scene.
I turned back to Hades, forcing a bright smile, leaning in as though I wanted to whisper something sweet.
“Quit it,” I muttered under my breath.
His cologne drifted toward me as he leaned in, his lips so close to my ear I nearly shivered.
“If you want me to quit,” he whispered, “then why are you clenching your thighs on my hand? Those soft thighs refuse to let me go.”
I froze because he was right. I was doing that. My legs had closed around his hand on instinct, holding him there.
Fuck
I pulled back, face flaming, and grabbed my glass again, drowning myself in the drink. If I could just focus on the taste, maybe, just maybe, I’d ignore the hand still between my thighs.
“You must be cold,” Hades said.
I blinked at him, confused, until he slipped off his jacket.
My breath caught in my throat. I knew exactly what he was about to do, and I wanted to stop him before he could put that thing on me, but it was already too late.
He draped the jacket across my lap. To anyone else at the table, it looked gentlemanly. But I knew better. My heart sank as his hand slipped back beneath the cover of the jack, reclaiming its place between my thighs.
I licked my lips, desperately trying to stay composed, while inside, I was screaming.
This man was going to drive me insane.
Hades turned back to the man, his voice detached as he answered whatever business they were discussing. I
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Those soft thighs refuse to lot me go
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couldn’t hear a single word.
All I could hear was my own heartbeat. All I could feel was is hand moving higher.
Is this right? In front of everyone? What if someone noticed What if they found out? The scandal alone would ruin us both.
I knew all that, but I still didn’t stop him.
I could have excused myself before any of this even started, but I didn’t. Instead, I sat there, breathing unevenly, my whole body tense, anticipating what he would do next.
When his hand brushed the thin barrier of my panties, I nearly jumped. I bit down hard on my lip, almost drawing blood. I would do anything to stop the sound threatening to escape my throat. Heat flooded my face until I was sure everyone at the table could see it.
Don’t look at him, I told myself. Don’t look. Looking would only make it worse. But of course I looked.
His gaze was still fixed on the men across the table as though their words actually mattered.
The men smiled harder, mistaking it for approval, thinking he was pleased with them. If they only knew. If they only realized what his hand was doing under the table, they’d drop dead of shock on the spot.
His fingers pressed harder, dragging over the damp lace. Every stroke sent sparks shooting through me, and I had to grip the napkin in my lap to keep my hands from shaking. My thighs clenched, instinctively trying to trap his hand, but Hades only forced them apart again.
“I see,” Hades mused, dragging his fingers just to prove it. Sometimes the slowest method produces the most explosive results.”
Damn him.
I couldn’t understand how Hades’s voice stayed so calm like he wasn’t driving me insane beneath the tablecloth. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I could barely swallow around the knot in
my throat.
“Hades…” I breathed, so low I wasn’t even sure if the word had left my lips.
He tilted his head slightly, as if considering a point one of them had made, but I knew better. That small twitch of his lips was for me.
When his finger traced a slow line up and down, pressing the lace tighter against me, I forgot how to breathe. My body betrayed me, arching the smallest fraction toward him, desperate for more, and for him to slip past the barrier he was torturing me with.
The pressure built mercilessly, his movements lazy yet precise, dragging out every second.
His finger circled harder, the damp fabric sticking to me now.
Heat coiled deep inside me. The world was starting to blur.
Bloody hell, if he didn’t stop soon, it was only a matter of time before he made me come in front of everyone at this table, just like when he had me pinned against the window, fucking me for the world to see.
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You are a doni with me Violet
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