Trapped with My Billionaire Ex-Husband by Mariya Mercedes

Chapter 53
BLAIRE
Despite my attempt to focus on the menu, Sebastian’s touch on my thigh sent a subtle tremor through my senses. The delicate dance of our reunion seemed to intensify with every passing moment.
“Have you decided what you’d like?” he asked, his voice a measured cadence that barely concealed the undercurrents of emotion between us.
I glanced at the menu, the words blurring as my mind wrestled with conflicting thoughts. “I… um, not yet,” I stammered, acutely aware of the proximity that seemed to amplify the unspoken tension.
“Perhaps I should order for us. If that’s fine with you,” he said as his hand slowly travelled up to my thigh until his hand final rested just a few inches away from my
centre.
“Y-Yes, that’s better, I said, breathing a sigh of relief as I looked at the waiter completely oblivious of what’s happening under the table.
I gasped for air when he fingers started to play with my centre. I immediately cover my mouth from making any explicit sound. I looked at him with pleading eyes, trying to signal him to stop. But he never once took a glance in my direction and continued to order as if everything was normal.
“For appetizers, we’ll start with the delicate truffle-infused oysters.”
The waiter started writing Sebastian’s order.
“As for the main course,” Sebastian continued, “I believe the sous-vide Wagyu beef would be an exquisite choice. Then, paired it with a truffle-infused demi-glace and a side of truffle mashed potatoes.”
He continued to order our meal while I was trying my best not to get distracted by his hand in between my legs. I clenched my he ran his finger across my slit. I was fist whe
hoping he would stop from there, but he didn’t. Instead, he proceeded to insert his fingers inside my wet underwear. My throat suddenly felt dry when he slid his finger through my entrance.
I immediately grabbed the glass of water and drank it, hoping to moist my dried throat. I clear my throat, trying to act normal, which I failed, obviously.
“Are you okay, madam?” The waiter when he noticed my discomfort.
“She’s fine,” Sebastian answered for me. “We’ll also be having a bottle of Bordeaux,” he
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added.
“Will that be able, sir?” he asked, bringing back his attention towards Sebastian.
“Would you like to add anything, love?” Sebastian turned to me and asked.

I was startled upon him, mentioning my name. I panicked when the waiter landed his eyes on me. I was so scared that he would notice anything when he looked at me for more than one minute, so I could quickly answer to dismiss him.
“No, that would be all. Thank you,” I responded.
As the waiter flashed a smile and departed, I seized the opportunity to discreetly
remove his hand from my legs. Despite his protests, a stern glare served as a move
His response was a smug smirk. What caught me off guard, though, was his next move with those fingers. Deliberately, he raised his hand, sensually sucking his moist
fingertips adorned with my lingering juices.
The atmosphere heated up, creating a mix of arousal and embarrassment. Blushing, I averted my gaze, attempting to escape the intensity of his stare.
Suddenly, a low, husky chuckle escaped his lips, resonating through the charged airs between us. Ignoring my attempt to break free, he leaned in, his lips tantalizingly close to my ear.
“Playing hard to get, are we?” he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.
“W-Where in a public place, Sebastian,” I stammered.
His eyes locked onto mine, a mischievous glint dancing in them. “So, what? Do you really think this will stop me from claiming what’s mine?” he murmured, his fingers tracing light circles on the back of
my hand.
As the tension heightened, I couldn’t deny the undeniable chemistry between us. The restaurant’s ambience faded into the background, leaving only the two of us in this clandestine dance.
I gulped, my voice barely a whisper, “Sebastian, we can’t-
His lips brushed against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Can’t or won’t?” he challenged, his warm breath caressing my skin.
His fingers continued their tantalizing dance on my hand, each stroke leaving an indelible mark on the fabric of our shared moment. The air cra ckled with unspoken desire, and I felt the weight of his gaze, daring me to surrender to the allure.
“Sebastian, this isn’t the place for…” I started, my protest trailing off as his lips found
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their way to mine in a soft, lingering k*ss. The world outside our clandestine bubble blurred, leaving only the sensation of his touch and the undeniable pull drawing us together.
He pulled back slightly, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You’re mine, Blaire. You don’t get to have a say on this. At least show me my money’s worth,” he whispered.
The words hung heavy in the charged atmosphere, shattering the illusion of a romantic interlude. Reality crashed down on me, dispelling the fantasy. His touches, once a source of excitement, now served as a stark reminder of the transaction that defined our connection.
My heart sank, and I looked away, concealing the ache within. “I know why I’m here. All I’m asking is for you not to treat me like a wh ore,” I uttered, the bitter truth lingering on my tongue.
He chuckled, a cynical edge to his voice. “I’m paying you to be with me. Isn’t that falls within the same category?”
I glared at him, my fists clenched, fighting the urge to unleash the frustration building within me. “I can’t believe I let myself believe in something more,” I whispered to myself, the sting of disappointment sharp in my words.
“What?” he asked. I’m glad that it wasn’t loud enough for him to understand what I said.
“Nothing. I just want to get this over with,” I replied, my voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and determination. With a heavy heart, I pushed aside the shattered remnants of my illusions and focused on the practicality of the situation.
The air hung heavy with unspoken words as we remained silent while waiting for our food. The once enchanting ambience of the restaurant now felt like a gilded cage, trapping us in the remnants of a shattered romance.
Sebastian’s gaze remained detached, his actions mechanical. I, on the other hand, wavered between numbness and the echo of a lingering ache. Every touch, every whispered word, was a reminder of what was lost.
As the night unfolded, I couldn’t help but yearn for an escape from this scripted reality. The clinking of glasses and distant laughter around us became a distant backdrop to the internal turmoil.
After what seems like forever, our meal has finally arrived. The clinking of cutlery against plates fills the awkward silence as we start eating.
Sebastian’s gaze remains fixed on his plate, a stark contrast to the vibrant intensity it held earlier. The aroma of the carefully prepared dishes fails to mask the bitter taste of disappointment lingering in the air.
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I steal a glance at him, searching for any sign of remorse or acknowledgement of the emotional wreckage we find ourselves in. Yet, his expression remains indifferent, as if the charade we’re playing is nothing more than a mundane task.
We were in the middle of our dinner when my phone suddenly rang. I looked at Sebastian, trying to gauge whether it’s fine for me to answer my phone when I’m with him.
“E-Excuse me. I’ll just get this,” I informed me. But I was just about to stand when I heard his cold and baritone voice.
“I paid every minute of your time, didn’t I? So, I expect your full attention when you’re with me. So, sit down,” he ordered with lifting his head.
“O-Okay,” I answered before going back to my seat. I’m just glad that it didn’t take long before my phone stopped ringing. But it hadn’t been a few minutes before my phone started ringing once again. This time, I was more eager to answer the phone, assuming that it was an emergency call from the night nurse I hired to look after Blaze.
“Turn off your phone, Blaire, he ordered.
I was hesitant. I can’t just ignore the call, especially if it’s about my son. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll be quick,” I answered, defying his orders.
“Blaire—”