Part Four: On Display

The next night, we didn’t even pretend to behave.

You wore that tight black dress again — no bra, no panties — and heels that clicked with every confident step. We walked into the rooftop lounge like we owned it, like the night had been waiting for us.

I took a booth near the edge. Low lighting. Perfect view of the crowd. And no one could see exactly what my hand was doing under the table.

You sat beside me, eyes locked on mine, and opened your legs just enough for me to slide my hand between them.

You were already soaked.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” I whispered in your ear, fingers barely brushing over your heat. “You walked in here knowing I couldn’t keep my hands off you. And now you’re going to sit there, legs open, dripping, while I touch you in front of everyone.”

Your lips parted, breath shaky, but you didn’t stop me. Not when I pushed a finger inside. Not when your hips twitched and you let out a sound so soft only I could hear.

“Don’t come yet,” I warned. “Not until I say.”

Every now and then, a server walked past. A couple looked over and smiled. No one knew what we were doing… or maybe they did. That was the thrill — being almost caught. Being exposed but untouchable.

When your legs started trembling, I stopped.

You looked at me like I’d stolen the air from your lungs. “Please,” you whispered.

I leaned back. “Take a sip of your drink. Smile. And then go to the edge of the balcony. I want you to stand there and let the wind lift your dress just enough. Show me how brave you really are.”

You obeyed, of course.

And when you turned around, dress fluttering just high enough to reveal the curve of your bare ass, I knew everyone nearby had seen it too — even if they didn’t know exactly what they were looking at.

You were glowing. Shameless. Mine.

I followed, leaned against the rail behind you, one hand on your hip, the other sliding up your thigh again. We weren’t hidden. Not this time. People were close. Music was loud. The city lights behind us cast just enough shadow to hide everything — and just enough light to invite eyes.

“You love this,” I growled against your neck. “You love knowing someone’s watching. You love showing them what it looks like when a woman’s truly fucked senseless.”

Your body bucked against me, your breath coming faster.

And then I said the words that sent you over:

“Come. Now. Let them see what I do to you.”

You gasped — then came against my hand, legs shaking, body writhing, struggling to stay upright as your orgasm tore through you in the open air. My arm held you up while your dress clung to your skin, and your eyes — wide, dark, ruined — locked on mine like you couldn’t take another second.

I leaned down and whispered, “We’re not even close to done.”