I’m still panting when Sutton gently sets me down on the cushioned chair, the fabric still warm from his body. He straightens his clothes, his hands shaking only a little.
Christopher produces a monogrammed handkerchief from the pocket of his suit and uses it to wipe my skin clean, but I can still feel him there. I’m branded with his arousal, and with mine. “I’ll get you something to drink,” he says, leaving me alone with the man I was supposed to have drinks with. The man who basically stood me up and got laid for it.
Only he looks more messed up by the whole thing than me.
Those strong hands tamed a wild horse, but they don’t look steady now. Sutton can’t quite meet my eyes as he moves a poker chip between his fingers and knocks it against the table. For good luck? Except the game is
