She cums. Hard.

Gemma’s back arches slightly, her fingers clawing at the tablecloth as her orgasm crashes over her. She bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, her body trembling as she tries - and fails - to stifle the sounds gurgling from her throat. A broken, muffled “Fuck -” escapes her, her thighs shaking as the vibrator pushes her over the edge.

The table goes silent.

Steven is staring at his daughter like she’s grown a second head. Rebecca’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide. Gemma’s face is flushed, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. She forces a laugh, but it comes out shaky, unconvincing.

“Gemma! What on earth - ”

*“I—I just… my drink. It went down the wrong way.”* She grabs her glass, downing the rest of it in one go, her hand still trembling.

“Well. That was… something.” Steven clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. He flags down the waiter, muttering something about dessert. Rebecca is still gaping at Gemma, and her hand finds your under the table, her grip tight.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Gemma?”* she asks, her voice laced with concern.

“Mmm-hmm. Totally fine.” Gemma nods, her fingers finally releasing their death grip on the table. She shifts in her seat, the plug still buried inside her, the vibrator now still.

She pushes her chair back from the table, slowly and deliberately, like she's trying to act normal, but the way her fingers tremble as she sets her napkin down betrays her.

“Excuse me,” she murmurs, her voice still a little breathless. “I need to… freshen up.”

Steven barely glances up from his dessert menu, but Rebecca gives her a concerned look. “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart? You look a little flushed.”

Gemma forces a smile, her cheeks still pink. “Yes - fine. I’ll be right back.”