Second-Hand Dresses

Chapter 22: Refined Tastes

A well-crafted meal artfully presented on the table is proof of a woman's skill and talent.

—Ridokinar Satiov

Even though her stomach was full, Lily considered a plate filled with roasted apples in caramelized molasses sugar, curls of citrus, and what appeared to be sweet root shavings. Her stomach said she was full but it looked good enough to brave the discomfort.

"Anything else?" Hasan's voice was low, a purr that seemed to tickle her skin and caress her ears. Little flutters danced over her skin and she clamped her legs together in fear of him smelling her rising desire.

It didn't take much effort to look over to him, he was sitting next to her instead of across the table. It was the same as when they were doing books, but the heat of his body and the smell of his skin made it hard for her to concentrate enough to hold her fork. Her thoughts kept drifting back to their kiss days ago or her failed attempts to relieve her lusts by masturbating upstairs. Now she craved more than her finger, she wanted to feel his touch against her slick lips or the press of his body to her aching nipples.

His eyes scanned back and forth. She knew he could see she was excited, she could feel the heat on her cheeks and the way her body trembled every time he inched closer. There was no doubt she was screaming her intentions but there was no way to silence the flush on her cheeks or the flutters between her legs.

Lily gulped and looked down at her lap. The material of her summer dress was thin and dangerously translucent. She had forgotten—or chose to forget—when she pulled it own. Now, she regretted it as she watched the muscles of her thighs flex or could imagine the shadow between her legs was something more than just light; she was slick enough that any touch would soak through the pattern as easily and matched the moisture of her underwear.

She knew she should respond, but it was hard. Her mind had fallen into a rut. She opened her mouth and closed it, struggling with the words that didn't start with "I want you...."

Hasan reached out with his hand, his fingers spreading as he held them over her knee.

Lily fought back a whimper. She wanted him to touch her.

She also knew she shouldn't, not with Mindil's friendship.

Her knee swung out slightly, centering her leg underneath his hand.

Smoothly, Hasan lowered it and ran his fingertips along the top of her leg.

She tensed as the heat flared inside her. Her insides felt liquid, boiling with her thoughts. Her guilt over Mindil eroded under the part of her screaming for him to reach higher along her limb, to touch the places she had awoken earlier.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes.

Hasan was tilted toward her, his shoulders facing her and one leg starting to sway to center his body on her. It was intimate and close, dangerously close. He stroked one finger against the inside of her leg but said nothing.

She wanted him to do more. Her inner war was losing with his proximity.

"Anything at all?"

"Y-You made so much," she whispered.

He added a second finger to slid back and forth against her inner knee. The fabric of her dress rose up slowly, tickling her shin as he worked it along his palm. He gave her a bright smile and leaned closer until she was surrounded by the scent of his cologne. "For you, anything."

Lily's inner muscles clenched at the low purr of his voice. She leaned closer to him, breathing deep as she stared into his warm, brown eyes. Her knee spread further apart.