[REBECCA]
As we settled around the table, Artemy and I took the prominent seats. My days as a maid were behind me an endeavor I wouldn’t dare bring up with Artemy to avoid triggering his ire.
Seated to his right, I watched as the others gathered around. Even Lynda, who was no longer a maid. The notion of her serving me felt strange, so we abandoned that practice. She had become more of a sister than a servant. Lynda’s role as a maid was a mere pastime, her primary involvement being assisting Nona in the kitchen.
True to his character, Artemy ensured I was served first before tending to his own meal. It was a habit of his, and one that I deeply appreciated.
While the gentlemen engaged in conversation over their meal, I focused on savoring mine, grateful for the nourishment. My hunger was undeniable. Lynda, usually so vocal, remained unusually quiet, occasionally stealing glances at Artemy.
Listening to Brayden, Artemy’s left hand rested possessively on my exposed thigh beneath the table a familiar gesture. He ate with his right hand, all the while maintaining his reassuring touch. His thumb traced gentle circles on my skin, sending shivers down my spine as it crept closer to more intimate territory.
With widening eyes, I grasped his wrist, halting his audacious movements. He responded with a knowing smirk.
Artemy was incorrigible, and yet, I found myself relishing every bit of it.
Artemy’s tantalizing caresses persisted, leaving my skin ablaze and throbbing, an insatiable craving coursing through me. He drew me into a realm of yearning.
Leaning in, he whispered, his voice an intimate secret, “Can you feel how much you desire me?” The words were a private exchange, yet they nearly caught in my throat like an unexpected gulp of food.
A fit of coughing erupted, and I clutched my chest. The room fell silent, gazes converging on me with concern. Artemy held a glass to my lips, patiently awaiting a sip.
After the coughing subsided, I offered a nod to reassure everyone, shooting Artemy a stern glance. “No,” I managed to hiss under my breath.
His lips curled into a smirk, a maddeningly smug expression. Oh, the audacity!
His gaze intensified, blue eyes smoldering with untamed want. I nibbled on my lip and averted my eyes to my plate.
His warm breath tickled my ear, causing goosebumps to rise. “Shall I verify, pet?”
My breath hitched as his hand crept upward, venturing beneath the table, his fingers parting my legs.
I tried to resist, but my grip on his wrist was futile against his strength.
“Artemy, cease this,” I implored in a hushed plea.
“I simply wish to ascertain the truth, kitten.”
He persisted in his teasing, then diverted his attention back to Brayden, his hand pausing yet remaining in its daring position.
As the tense moments passed without any movement, I released a relieved exhale. However, mid-sip, Artemy’s thumb pressed firmly against my core.
The delicate fabric of my undergarments offered no barrier against the electrifying jolt that surged through me. I jerked at the sudden contact, my spoon suspended in the air.
Undeterred, Artemy carried on conversing, acting as though nothing extraordinary had occurred.
I struggled to maintain composure, endeavoring to keep a poker face.
But then, his thumb initiated a tender dance, tracing circles over my moistened core.
No. This couldn’t be happening. Damn him.
My efforts to squeeze my thighs together were thwarted by his unyielding hand. Clenching my teeth, I pinched his wrist, desperation evident.
Yet, he remained unaffected.
He chatted and laughed, a master manipulator orchestrating my turmoil beneath the table.
Trembling, I raised my glass with a shaky hand, attempting to take a sip. Yet, like a sinister imp, Artemy pressed his thumb more firmly against my clit.
Eyes shut tight, I breathed through the agonizing delight.
My lingerie was saturated, my legs trembling, heart racing like a frantic bird’s wings.
Then, he ceased. Artemy’s gaze locked with mine, a wink passing between us before he withdrew his hand.
He lifted his hand, the finger that bore the traces of my arousal, and nonchalantly licked it clean. Right at the dining table.
My heart threatened to leap from my chest. Panic surged within me.
“That was delightful,” he nodded.
“Hmm?” Brayden inquired.
“The sauce. It’s quite exquisite. I’ll have to sample more later,” Artemy explained, that infernal smirk playing on his lips.
Lynda stared at me, a mix of shock and concern on her face.
Embarrassment coursed through me, my cheeks surely flaming. The others continued eating, blissfully unaware of the unfolding drama. I sat there, staring at my plate, contemplating my plight alongside the impossible, exasperating man seated beside me.
“I was right. You’re dripping for me, kitten. My finger was drenched in your essence. Do you ache for me within you? My finger or perhaps my cock?” His breathy words brushed my ear.
I was certain I could murder him.
“Stop it!” I hissed, my fingers digging into his thigh with a firm pinch.
Finally, he flinched, but a smile played at the corner of his lips. “Alright, I’ll cease,” he acknowledged.
And, to my surprise, he truly did stop.
The tension between us was palpable. The unspoken desire hung in the air, a shared longing that we had both acknowledged yet deliberately resisted.
My uncertainty held me back. Artemy, however, never pressed or rushed. We indulged in stolen kisses and passionate embraces, but always stopped short of crossing the threshold to more intimate territories.
Yet, here he was, taking that step. At the dining table of all places. I shook my head, amused by his audacity.
Artemy had a way about him. It was so uniquely him.
As my eyes met his, an overwhelming rush of affection surged within me. Could I grant him his wish? Our shared wish?
His gaze seemed to sense my inner turmoil. He leaned in, his lips grazing my ear as he whispered with the utmost tenderness, a gesture that tugged at my heartstrings.
“Don’t rush yourself. I’ll wait, whenever you’re ready.”
His hand returned to my thigh, the touch conveying possession, security, and a patience I hadn’t expected.
A warmth bloomed in me-a feeling of being cherished in this peculiar moment.
“So…” Lynda’s voice intruded, pulling me from my thoughts. I shifted my attention to her. Her raised eyebrow was a clear question mark, directed at Artemy.
“Have you popped the question yet?”
Gratitude swelled within me for not having food in my mouth; otherwise, I might have choked. My heart’s rhythm stuttered, then raced faster within my chest.
What was she playing at?
I shot her a cautioning glare before shifting my gaze to Artemy, who seemed as taken aback as I was. His spoon remained suspended mid-air, frozen like his expression.
A dryness gripped my throat, and I had to resist the urge to smack my head against the table.
Oh Lynda, the audacity!
Artemy placed his spoon down gingerly, clearing his throat as he tried to regain his composure. “Excuse me?”
“Just curious if you’ve taken the plunge,” Lynda persisted, unabashed.
Artemy’s brows furrowed, a perplexed look he shared with the rest of us. Brayden, Leon, even Avim, held in their amusement like a poorly concealed secret. Meanwhile, Damian and Howard remained unperturbed, continuing with their meal.
“Wait, why would I need to propose?” Artemy’s confusion was genuine.
Lynda’s face flamed, her eyes wide as saucers. Her utensils clung to her grip as if they were weapons she’d wield against Artemy.
Was she plotting his demise?
“Did you even bother to ask if she wants to marry you?” Lynda’s voice dropped to a hiss.
Artemy seemed truly lost in the situation, and I could feel my own cheeks igniting. My gaze dropped to my plate, wishing it could swallow me whole.
“Rebecca, would you like to marry me?”
Wait, what? Did that just happen? In front of everyone?
Lynda appeared on the brink of a coronary. Her exasperation could have ignited the room, and Artemy might be her first victim.
I looked to him, flustered, searching for a lifeline.
He returned my gaze, seeking my answer. The whole room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting my response.
Fidgeting with my dress hem, I felt the weight of the moment. “Yes?” I ventured, uncertain yet sure.
“No” was never an option. Not in this instance.
Artemy’s confident nod was accompanied by a proud gleam in his eyes. “Alright then. We’re embarking on this journey to marriage.”
If Leon hadn’t been there to restrain her, Lynda would have sprung over the table in a heartbeat. Her words seethed through a strained smile, “That couldn’t have been less of a proposal.”
Artemy’s brows furrowed again, his confusion evident. “I asked, and she said yes. We’re getting married.”
A heavy disappointment settled on my shoulders. Was that all there was to it?
Artemy resumed his meal, and Brayden’s suppressed laughter erupted into a controlled cough. Leon followed suit, both of them feigning seriousness before returning to their plates.
After a few seconds, I too picked up my fork. While Lynda continued to shoot daggers at Artemy, her defeated stance became apparent.
As the dishes neared completion, Artemy leaned in closer. “Angel, I love you. Marriage isn’t what matters; it doesn’t change a thing. But my name will be yours. You’ll be Rebecca Loskutov. I promise.”
His words were a soft murmur meant solely for me, yet they found their way directly to my heart. I turned to him, my lips stretching into an uncontrollable smile. Resisting such a smile was futile.
In response, Artemy’s grin mirrored mine, his eyes radiating an abundance of affection for me.
“Alright,” I concurred.
It seemed that a conventional proposal was unnecessary. Simply being by Artemy’s side was ample to transform me into the happiest woman alive.
As the night progressed, following a piano interlude, I nestled onto Artemy’s lap. We lingered like that, both of us unwavering in our positions.
His fingers toyed with my hair while my head rested on his shoulder. I placed a tender kiss there, and he responded by holding me more tightly.
“What do you desire, Rebecca? What can I give you? I aspire to be the man you deserve,” he voiced, shattering the quietude.
Lifting my head, I gazed at him. He appeared somewhat adrift.
Cupping his face in my hands, I brought our lips together. The kiss was gentle, brimming with the entirety of my affection.
“Just you. I only need you,” I breathed against his mouth.
Artemy’s eyes locked onto mine, a fusion of blue meeting green.
He graced the tip of my nose with a kiss and enfolded me in his embrace.