Ben pushes things further

Emma looked pleadingly at Ben, her eyes wide and glassy, she was at his mercy now.

Ben didn't flinch. His face remained a mask of cool, relaxed composure, completely betraying the filthy things his hand was doing under the table. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his beer, then turned his head toward Tom, outwardly ignoring Emma entirely.

"So, what did you think of the game last night? Williamson is a bloody idiot." Ben asked, his voice a perfectly casual, conversational rumble.

Under the table, his thick fingers slipped beneath the tight waistband of Emma's red leggings. The lycra snapped back against his wrist, sealing his hand inside. He bypassed her soaked cotton underwear, sliding his rough fingers directly against her bare, swollen flesh. He found her clit, pressing down and rubbing in tight circles, while two fingers slid slowly deep into her slick, dripping entrance.

Emma bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted copper, her hands gripping the edge of the sticky wooden table to keep from shaking.

"Yeah, I am not happy with him. He's going to get us relegated... again" Tom replied casually, taking a slug of his ale. He chewed and swallowed, completely oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend was being fingered by his roommate. "Next match is a big one, could finish us for the season."

"Yeah, I was thinking we could go out somewhere to watch it. Big screen." Ben said smoothly.

As he spoke, Ben added a third finger, stretching Emma's tight, wet walls. He pumped his hand in and out with a steady, ruthless rhythm, the wet, sloppy sounds of his fingers sliding through her juices masked by the vocals of the pub's pop music. Emma's hips twitched involuntarily against the bench, her breath hitching in her throat as a heavy, throbbing heat pooled violently in her belly.

"I'm going to grab the next round," Tom announced, standing from his chair. "You guys want the usual?"

Emma managed a jerky, breathless nod, her eyes fixed on the table, pretending she was reading her phone. "Yeah. Thanks, babe."

"Be right back, I'll see what Sarah wants too." Tom turned and headed toward the crowded bar.

The second Tom's back was turned, Ben's cool composure vanished, replaced by an amused, predatory smirk. He didn't pull his hand out. Instead, he shifted his weight, tilting his body fully toward Emma and leaning in close. His breath was hot against her ear, his voice dropping to a dirty, commanding whisper.

"Look at you," Ben teased, his thumb pressing firmly against her clit while his fingers curled inside her, hitting her sweet spot. "Sitting here playing the good, loyal girlfriend, but you're absolutely soaking my hand. You wanted this, don't you, Emma? You can't help yourself, even knowing he's right there, completely clueless, while I play with your tight little pussy and make you drip all over yourself."

Emma let out a shaky, muffled whimper, her thighs trembling violently as his fingers worked her over.

"Tell me you want it," Ben whispered, his pace quickening, his thumb swirling relentlessly over her swollen pearl. "Tell me how much you love my fingers stretching you out"