SINS UNDER THE TABLE{4}

Genevieve

My pulse throbbed in my throat as I slid out of the velvet dining booth, my silk gown rustling softly against the mahogany chair legs. Across the candlelit table, Tristan was leaning close to Chloe, his hand resting on the small of her back as they laughed over an inside joke. He did not even look up as I adjusted my dress and smoothed down the silver fabric.

"I am going to check on the Pinot Noir," I said, keeping my voice level, almost bored. "The sommelier is taking far too long with the second bottle."

Tristan waved a dismissive hand, his thumb stroking Chloe’s exposed shoulder through her sleeveless dress. "Take your time, babe. We are just getting to the good part of the story anyway."

I turned on my heel and walked toward the heavy swinging doors that led to the private catering kitchen. The moment the double doors swung shut behind me, the muffled hum of the dining room vanished, replaced by the cool, quiet air of the service hallway. Stainless steel prep tables lined the far wall, reflecting the dim overhead bulbs, but the center of the room was dominated by a massive, cold marble island.

A heavy hand clamped around my wrist, spinning me around before I could take another step.

Julian pulled me flush against his chest, his dark eyes burning with an intense, unyielding heat. He did not say a word. He reached behind him and clicked the lock on the heavy brass door handle, sealing us inside the prep space.

"Julian," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Tristan is right outside. He is sitting thirty feet away with Chloe."

"I know exactly where he is," Julian growled, his deep voice sending a sharp shiver down my spine as his breath warmed my ear. "And I do not care. I bought us five minutes with the kitchen staff. They are taking a smoke break in the alley."

Before I could reply, his hands slid down to my waist, lifting me effortlessly and setting me onto the cold edge of the marble island. The contrast between the freezing stone and the heat radiating off his broad body made my breath hitch in my chest. I was wearing a slinky, backless gown with a dangerous side slit, and absolutely nothing underneath.

Julian’s eyes darkened as his hands gathered the silver silk, pulling the fabric up past my hips until my thighs were completely bare to the cool air of the room. He stepped between my knees, his broad shoulders blocking out the ambient light from the ceiling fixtures, wrapping me in his shadow.

"You think you can just sit at that table and pretend you belong to him?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous as his calloused hands smoothed over the inner curves of my legs, pushing them wider apart. "You belong right here. With me."

He did not wait for an answer. Julian dropped to his knees on the polished tile floor, his strong hands sliding under my knees to spread my legs across the marble surface.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as his face dipped down between my thighs. His warm, heavy breath struck my sensitive skin a fraction of a second before his mouth made contact. The moment his tongue swept over me in a broad, authoritative stroke, my entire body arched off the counter.

"Shh," Julian commanded against my skin, his fingers digging into the plush muscle of my thighs to hold me completely still. "Not a sound, Genevieve. If you make a sound, he will hear you."

He returned to his work with a relentless, rhythmic mastery that made my toes curl against the stone. His tongue moved with long, firm pressure, circling and pressing with exact precision until my hands blindly reached out, searching for leverage. My nails dug into the cold edge of the marble island, the stone biting into my palms as a wave of intense heat rushed straight to my core.

Every stroke of his mouth was calculated to drive me over the edge as quickly as possible. He used his fingers to part me further, exposing every inch of my body to his hot, wet mouth while his thumb applied steady, merciless pressure right where I needed it most. I threw my head back, my eyes fluttering shut as I bit down hard on my lower lip to suppress the scream rising in my throat.

The risk was suffocating, but the physical sensation was so overwhelming that my thoughts shattered into useless fragments. Julian knew every flaw in my composure, and he was exploiting every single one of them without mercy. He quickened his pace, his jaw working with fierce intensity, driving my hips upward into his face as the tension inside me coiled tighter and tighter toward a shattering peak.

My breath came in harsh, shallow hitches, every muscle in my legs trembling against his shoulders. The friction of his tongue against my hypersensitive skin sent jolts of pure electricity straight down my spine. I was completely at his mercy, trapped between the freezing marble beneath me and the scorching heat of his mouth.

"Julian... please," I managed to gasp out in a breathless whisper, my hips lifting instinctively to meet every heavy, possessive stroke.

"Look at me," he ordered softly, his voice rough with desire as he briefly paused his rhythmic movements, though his thumb remained pressed firm against me.

I forced my heavy eyelids open to meet his gaze. Even down on his knees, he looked completely dominant, his dark eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of my chest, taking pleasure in how thoroughly he had undone my regal composure.

"You are so wet for me," he murmured against my inner thigh, his hot breath sending goosebumps cascading across my skin. "Right here, while your fiancé sits on the other side of that door."

Before I could process his words, he buried his face back between my legs, increasing the speed and force of his tongue. He lapped at me with a fierce, possessive hunger, driving me straight toward the edge of an unbearable climax. My toes curled, my stomach muscles tightened, and my knuckles turned stark white against the dark marble edge.

I was spinning out of control, floating on the absolute edge of a violent release, when heavy, familiar footsteps echoed down the tiled hallway outside the double doors.

Tristan was coming.

My eyes snapped open, panic instantly overriding the blinding pleasure. I looked down to see Julian looking up at me, his eyes dark, satisfied, and completely unbothered by the approaching sound. He did not stop. In fact, he pressed his tongue deeper, dragging out a long, desperate shudder from my hips while the footsteps grew louder with every second.

"Julian, stop," I tried to mouth the words, but no sound came out. My fingers tightened on the edge of the marble counter until my knuckles throbbed with pressure.

Outside, the heavy footsteps halted directly in front of the locked catering doors.

Tristan’s hand twisted the brass kitchen door handle, the mechanism rattling loudly against the wooden frame.

"Babe? What is taking so long with the Pinot Noir?" Tristan’s voice called out from the other side of the wood, sounding loud, impatient, and dangerously close. "The door is locked. Is someone in there?"