"You asked for another lesson, didn't you?" A slow smile spreads over Gabe's lips. He's clearly amused by my shock.

I'm definitely shocked. In fact, the sight of what he's holding was enough to make my heart stop beating, despite the fact that I'm not a hundred percent sure what it is.

I have an inkling of what it is, though, which is why I can't seem to catch my breath right now.

"You said we were going to dinner," I tell him.

"We are going to dinner," he promises. "But I want you to wear this to dinner for me. Think of it as an appetizer before the main course."

Now my heart seems to race instead of stop beating entirely as my hand flies to my mouth. "Where am I supposed to wear that?"

"I just told you," he says, the corners of his mouth twitching. "To dinner."

"You know that's not what I meant," I whisper as he steps close to me, with the… thing… in his hands. "I meant… you know…"

"You meant to ask me which hole it goes in, didn't you?" he whispers in my ear. With one hand he pushes up the back of my skirt, this gorgeous and sophisticated little black number he bought for me earlier today at a shop in town when we went out to explore. My breath catches in my throat as he peels the lace panties he also bought for me down over my ass. "I told you I'm going to take all of you eventually, didn't I?"

Heat rushes straight to my core at the thought. "Yes, Sir."

"That's what this is for, Purity," he murmurs. "It's to help you get ready for me."

"I can't wear that…in my butt… at dinner in a nice restaurant," I protest.

He makes a rumbling sound low in his throat. "You can and you will," he tells me. "I want you to have a dirty little secret at dinner that only you and I know about."

"I thought I was your dirty little secret."

"You're my dirty little girl," he tells me. "Now, our dinner reservation is in thirty minutes. How long do you think it will take me to get you ready for dinner?"

"I'm not sure. I've never done this before, Sir."

"I know," he says, squeezing my ass cheek. "Your little virgin asshole is going to be mine."

"Yes, Sir," I whisper.

He pulls my panties back over my ass and pats my cheek. "Walk over there, put your palms against the wall, and spread your legs."

My heart skips a beat. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Are you going to smart-mouth me, Purity?"

I smirk. "Depends on what the punishment is."

"Don't be a brat before dinner," he warns.

"Can I be a brat after dinner?"

"I'll only fuck you harder."

"Then I'll be extra mouthy."

"Hands on the wall, Purity."

I let out a mock-exasperated sigh as I saunter slowly to the wall, making a show of putting one hand and then the other against it as I pop my ass out. I look over my shoulder at him. "Is that good enough, Sir?"

"Spread your legs."

I swing one leg to the side, spreading them extra-wide for effect. I consider pulling up my skirt for him to ensure he enjoys the view, but I know he'll want to do that himself. So I stand there, braced against the wall, in my very expensive and very classy black dress and heels that make me feel nothing at all like a college freshman and everything like a sophisticated adult woman. Paired with the delicate lace bra and panties he gave me tonight, I feel like a million bucks.

On display for him like this, waiting for him to make a move, I feel incredibly turned on. It seems like I stand there waiting forever, though it's only a few minutes. By the time he's behind me, though, the anticipation has built and built to the point where my entire body is waiting for him.

He pushes the back of my dress up to my waist again and peels my panties down to my thighs, adjusting them so that they remain mid-thigh. "I like you like this," he murmurs appreciatively. "Bent over like this with your dress pulled up and your underwear around your legs."

"So do I," I whisper.

"Oh, I know," he replies, his fingers going to my slit. "I can see the wet spot on your underwear."

"I can't help it," I whimper. "You make me wet."

"I know. But no matter what I do to you right now, you're not going to come for me before dinner."

"That's not very fair," I protest as he spreads my ass cheeks with his palm. It's also not very likely that I can hold out, not when Gabe knows how to push all of my buttons. He's the one who's taught me, trained me, and cultivated in me everything that turns me on.

"I'm not a fair man." He chuckles when I yelp at the sensation of the cold plug against my asshole. "It's lube, Purity. Relax for me."

I'm about to open my mouth and protest that I can't possibly relax, not when I'm standing here spread-eagle against a wall while he pushes a butt plug into my asshole for the first time.

It's a ridiculous thing to tell me to do.

But then his mouth is near my ear, his lips brushing against my skin and sending arousal coursing through me. "I'm going to push this plug inside your little virgin asshole and you're going to wear it all night long. Did I mention that it vibrates?"

"Um… no."

I gasp as he works it inside me. I stiffen when a brief twinge of pain shoots through me, but he quickly begins to murmur in my ear again, distracting me from it.

"That's right," he says softly. "I'm going to control it with an app on my phone during dinner. You'll be able to feel the vibrations running though you and you'll know that I'm the one making you feel that way."

He's going to do that in public? The idea makes me dizzy. As he pushes the plug all the way in, it takes my breath away.

"How does that feel, dirty girl?"

Strange.

It accentuates the fact that he's not inside of me right now.

"Full," I whisper. "It makes the rest of me feel so empty."

"Poor little girl." He finds my entrance with two fingers and plunges them deeply inside my pussy. "Does that make it better?"

I'm completely filled up by him, almost uncomfortably so. The sensation is foreign and almost too much. "Yes."

He strokes me until I'm gasping for breath, until my fingertips are pressed hard against the wall and I’m letting out little moans as I try not to come. He reminds me anyway. "Don't come for me, Purity," he warns. "I want this pussy throbbing for me all night long."

Doesn't he know that every time he tells me not to do something, it only makes me want to do it more? There's no way I can hold out all night long.

He stops stroking me, pulls his fingers from between my legs, and leaves me standing there with my pussy aching and empty – but not for long. A moment later, he returns to push something else between my legs. "I was going to save these for another time, but you've been such a good girl lately, and I know you need something in that wet little cunt."

I whimper as he pushes something inside of me, explaining, "They're vibrating weighted balls. You're going to have to squeeze your pussy all night long so they stay right where I put them."

I groan. "I can't do that all night," I protest. "I won't be able to keep from coming."

"You're a capable woman and I trust you'll figure it out." Gabe pulls up my panties and my skirt falls back down around my hips. He pats my backside. "Now, should we go to dinner?"

I can barely walk because I'm so distracted by the sensation of the weighted balls and the butt plug inside me. My entire body seems to tense up as I try to walk with him while carrying around these secrets. "Has anyone told you that you're kind of a dick?"

Gabe takes my arm, his expression amused. "You have no idea."

"You really like to torture me."

He pulls me close and whispers,"You love to be tortured, little girl."

I think he might know me better than I know myself.

Adjacent to the restaurant is a little bar, dimly lit and as fancy as the restaurant itself. Much like a fancy restaurant, it's the kind of place I've never been, with little tables and people dressed up and listening to a piano player. A few older couples slow dance on the dance floor near the piano.

In other words, it's classy and mature and not the kind of place I'd feel remotely comfortable going inside. Everyone inside looks like they own yachts and vacation homes and they definitely don't hail from towns with names like South Hollow.

Gabe takes my arm and pulls me toward the entrance. "Come dance with me."

"Okay, first of all, I can't dance," I protest. My father would have a heart attack if he found out I was slow-dancing – it's one of the many things he considers sinful.

That's ironic, given my current state (butt plug in my ass and weighted vibrating balls in my pussy). My father has no idea what he should be worried about.

"I'll teach you," Gabe says.

"Second of all, I definitely can't dance." I emphasize the last words as I give him a look that says I really mean them because I definitely can't dance when balls might go dropping out of my pussy at any moment.

Gabe just chuckles. The bastard knows exactly what I'm trying to say to him, and he just chuckles. "Oh, I think you can, dirty girl. Just be careful you don't drop anything."

"Asshole." I breathe the word as he puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me across the lounge without giving me any room to protest. In front of all of the patrons in the bar, he pulls me tightly against him, looking into my eyes as he begins to move me with him, in sync with the music.

This would be really hot if I didn't have to focus so hard on not shooting balls out of my pussy.

"See, I told you that you can dance, dirty girl. It's just like fucking. And you're very good at fucking."

My cheeks warm at the way he talks to me right in the middle of this bar filled with stuffy people who are probably not talking about fucking – and definitely don't have sex toys lodged in any body cavities.

I close my eyes as Gabe's hands move down my back to my hips and rest there, bringing me tight against his hips.

He's hard.

Holy shit.

"Everyone's going to see that," I whisper.

"Let them," he says softly. "They'd think I was insane if I wasn't hard when you're dancing against me looking the way you do tonight."

"People are going to talk."

"I don't know anyone in here." He spins me around, pulling me against him so that my ass is pressed up against his erection. His hands stay on my hips and he sways against me, whispering in my ear. "Do you?"

"People are staring." They really are; it's not just my anxiety kicking into overdrive. People are looking up from their cocktails and whispering to each other.

This is not the kind of place where you dance seductively with your young-enough-to-be-your-daughter girlfriend.

Am I his girlfriend?

I can imagine all of the things they're whispering to each other right now and it makes my face feel hot.

Gabe senses my embarrassment, and his hands grip my hips firmly, leaving me no wiggle room – physically or mentally. He pins me right here against him and prevents me from running away from the humiliation of wearing what I'm wearing under my skirt, dancing with him the way I'm dancing with him, while everyone watches us.

It's my worst fear coming to pass.

And my biggest turn-on.

I only just realized that now.

I think Gabe has always knows it, though.

He has a way of sensing what turns me on and pressing those buttons. He has a way of pushing all of my buttons, not just the sexual ones, either.

"I know people are staring," he whispers, his lips against my ear. "They're looking at you in that dress and desiring you. They want to be me, behind you like this, with my hands all over you."

My cheeks flush warmer. "That's not true."

Gabe isn't even doing anything particularly lewd. His hands aren't running over my breasts or diving between my legs, and my dress isn't inappropriate in any way. It's demure and knee-length and very classy.

Yet it feels as if the two of us are standing right in the middle of this bar having sex. His body is pressed up behind me, his hardness pushing the butt plug inside me with every movement of his body.

When he reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone, his other hand on my waist to keep me firmly pinned against him, my heart stops beating. I know exactly what he's doing with that phone. A low vibration begins to rumble through my pussy.

Right in front of everyone in this bar.

"This is not fair," I whisper.

The piano player continues to play, and Gabe sways with me. "I changed my mind about dinner," he mutters into my ear. "I've decided I can't make it through dinner with you. We'll have to order room service."

"Thank God," I breathe.

"Oh, no. We're not leaving yet. I changed my mind because I want you to come for me here, not at dinner."

"I'll do no such thing," I protest adamantly – until he turns the vibration up higher. My hands go behind me to grab his legs and grip them tightly. "Stop or I will leave."

"Just for that backtalk, you're going to come right here with me, and then I'm walking your mouthy ass out of here and fucking you in the elevator on the way back up to the room."

"No," I insist, but the word comes out more like a moan than a protest. The vibration rushes through me, more intense this time, and it sends waves of warmth washing over me. Despite how much my mind insists this is the most terrible of all the terrible ideas in the world, my body is responding to the sensations.

I close my eyes and imagine that he's pulling up my skirt and taking out his cock and pushing it inside of me right this instant – with everyone in this room watching.

"You say no, but this is what makes you hot," he murmurs. "You can't lie to me. I know every inch of your body and I know what you want. You want me to bend you over right here in front of everyone and take you."

"Not… true…"

Oh, God.

It's completely true.

I love being his dirty secret. I love sneaking around. I love the thrill of knowing that I'm wearing a delicious secret inside me right now, that he stuffed me full, and that he's bringing me close to orgasm right here while all of these stuffy people are drinking their cocktails and talking about their stock portfolios and their country club memberships.

I love that he's going to make me come and that it's completely out of my control. I love that it's a foregone conclusion and that there's nothing I can do about it.

"Squeeze that pussy for me, baby," he whispers in my ear, sending goosebumps all over my arms as I comply. "Squeeze it and know that I'm so fucking hard, you're lucky I'm not coming all over the back of your dress right now."

That idea shouldn't make me as thrilled as it does. "Maybe I want you to," I whisper.

"You're asking for it, sweetheart," he growls.

I close my eyes and imagine him tearing down the top of my dress, putting his hands all over my breasts, and pinching and squeezing my nipples as he thrusts his cock inside me from behind.

The vibration gets so strong that it's almost too much to bear, so I'm left with no other response than to lean back against Gabe's chest, gripping his arms tightly so I don't completely collapse, and sway with him to the music. My orgasm begins to build and build, and I try to keep my eyes open and try to distract myself by looking around at the people in the bar, but it doesn't help.

I bite down on my lip, trying to distract myself mentally.

I'm not going to come in front of everyone in this room. I won't. It's not going to happen.

I'm so fucking close.

"I know you want to," he whispers. "I know you want to come for me right here with all of these people watching you. They know you're close. They can tell just like I can tell."

"No," I protest. "No one knows…"

"They can see it all over you," he whispers. "The way you're breathing hard. You're practically falling over. You're hardly able to hang onto me, and you're panting and flushed."

"Not… true."

Oh, God my eyes are rolling back in my head.

"All you have to do is come for me right now," he says. "Then I'll take you out of here, we'll go straight to the elevator, press the stop button, and I will pull up that skirt and fuck you against the wall and you're going to come for me again."

"You wouldn't… dare…"

Oh God, the thought of it makes me want to come right now.

"I told you to do something, little girl, and I meant it," he says, his voice stern. "I need to get you out of here before I fuck you right here in the middle of this dance floor. So if you don't come for me right now, I'm going to pick you up and throw you over my shoulder, then carry you out of here with your bare ass on display. And trust me when I say that if I do that, everyone in this place is getting a free show. I will fuck you with my fingers while you're over my shoulder, and –"

Oh, God.

I can't help it. The combination of the urgency in his voice and his dirty words and the vibration traveling through my pussy sends me hurtling over the edge. My orgasm overtakes me by surprise, and I come with a ferocity that I don't expect.

I manage to not cry out, but only because I bite down on my lip so hard that I taste blood. I somehow manage to not collapse, but only because Gabe is holding me so tightly against him that I think his fingers have probably bruised my hips. He murmurs into my ear the whole time I'm coming, calling me his dirty, sweet girl.

Before I'm even done, he's pushing me out of the lounge, his hand on the small of my back the way it was when we came in.