Debbie.
The waiter managed to finish pouring the drink in the glass and hurriedly leaving the table.
Rain’s hand was still buried in-between my legs.
“Rain… that guy… he saw… ahh… us,” I rasped.
He should. He has eyes.
His finger slid back in, sliding back, arching my hip forward. His finger started moving in and out of me.
He shifted his chair closer, his body blocking me from the rest of the room. His hand was moving with a steady, torturous rhythm now. I had to grip the edge of the table to keep from crying out.
"Rain... please," I gasped.
"Please what, baby? You want me to stop? Or you want me to take you to the bathroom and show you exactly what I’ve been dreaming about all day?"
I looked at him. His eyes were full of a hunger, a kind of hunger that made me feel alive.
"The
