We choose one of the miraculously free tables on the side, and watch the crowd in silence. The waiter brings our drinks, and Bianca reaches for my glass, moving it from my right side to the left. I don’t think she did it consciously, because she looks too focused on picking out a canapé from the plate in front of us. She must have noticed that I don’t keep drinks on my blind side. Strange how she doesn’t seem to care that her husband only has one eye. I know very well what a mess my right eye is, so I still expect her to recoil when she wakes up in my arms and looks up at me. But she just smiles and goes back to sleep for a few more minutes. My Bianca is not a morning person.
There are a lot of men around, and Bianca looks especially desirable in that dress today. And with nothing underneath.
I grab her chair and pull it closer to me. “Baby,”—I bend to whisper in her ear—“come sit on my lap.”
I look up at Mikhail, raise an eyebrow, then get up and stand between his legs. He taps his left thigh, and looks at me pointedly like he is daring me. Mikhail never does anything without a reason, and I’m curious what he has in mind, so I turn and sit down on his leg.
“Quite a crowd. Your nonna is popular,” he says.
His hand finds the slit of my dress, and the next second, there is a touch of a finger on my knee, then it slowly travels higher over the inner side of my thigh. It lingers there for a moment, then starts going up. He’s crazy. I blink and turn my head to look at him.
“Something wrong?” he asks, his face the embodiment of calm and innocence, as if he doesn’t have his hand buried between my legs.
I take the side of my dress, throw the length of fabric over his hand and forearm, and look back toward the mass of guests. Two can play this game.
“I wonder,” he says quietly as his finger reaches my naked core and presses onto my clit. “Will they find our sitting arrangement proper?”
I take a deep breath and open my legs slightly, thankful for the table hiding us from view.
“You know, I’ve noted at least twenty men undressing you with their eyes since we got here,” he whispers, and suddenly, his finger enters me. “I don’t like that, Bianca.”
As his finger deftly plays with my pussy, my breathing gets faster, and it becomes harder to keep my face expressionless. I can’t believe I am sitting in front of two hundred people with Mikhail’s finger inside me. Or how damn good it makes me feel. Oh God, a waiter with a tray full of dessert arrangements is coming in our direction. I grab Mikhail’s forearm and start tugging at his arm, but he ignores me completely and teases my clit with his thumb.
“I am a very jealous man.” His finger curls, causing me to bite my lip to suppress a moan. “I don’t deal well with other men ogling my wife.”
The pressure building between my legs skyrockets.
“No one is allowed to look at you, Bianca. Just me.” He pinches my clit, buries a second finger inside of me, then moves it deftly in a stroking motion against my walls. The waiter is getting closer, but instead of stopping, Mikhail picks up the pace. Just when I think I’m going to lose it, he presses firmly onto my clit and I come all over his hand.
I am still feeling the aftershocks when the waiter arrives at our table.
“No, thank you,” Mikhail says nonchalantly and looks at me. “Do you want something?”
I quickly shake my head. The moment the waiter turns his back to us, I grab my wine glass and empty it. I can’t believe he did that. Here.
“We should go to parties more often,” Mikhail says and takes a napkin from the table. Reaching under my dress, he starts cleaning me up.
“You are insane,” I sign.
Mikhail only shrugs and nods toward the entrance. “Your family is here.”
I watch the group entering the garden. Her father is first, with Bianca’s mother on his arm. They are both impeccably dressed, and the only thing that stands out is a bandage around his right hand. That letter opener obviously did significant damage since it’s been three weeks. When Bruno notices us, his steps falter for a second, and he sends me a look that could have scorched the grass under my feet. I lift my glass in his direction, enjoying the angry look that spreads over his face. Bianca’s older sister, Allegra, follows behind her parents with her spine ramrod straight, and her head held high like she owns the place. Milene is last, walking hand in hand with another girl her age. They are laughing, whispering, and ogling Tony, who is leaning on one of the pillars next to the dance floor.