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Her straight, shiny hair was wind-mussed, her cheeks rosy from the cool night air. She wore a light coat, open to reveal a very nice body, though it was presently covered by a blouse and navy skirt that made her look like she was a secretary at some law firm. But the bare legs beneath were slender and shapely.
He couldn’t wait to see her naked.
She looked around, her expression a little anxious. The hostess moved toward her and they exchanged a few words. Callie’s gaze fell on Damon, who lifted his hand in a small wave as he rose from his seat. The hostess led Callie back to his table. “A wait person will be right over,” she said. “Enjoy your meal.”
Damon extended his hand. “You must be Callie. I’m so sorry Diana couldn’t join us tonight. She was really looking forward to meeting you.” He helped her off with her coat and placed it neatly over the back of her chair.
Once they were both seated again, the waitress appeared, menus in hand. When she asked what they’d like to drink, Callie ordered a glass of white wine.
Excellent.
“Another scotch and soda for you, sir?” the waitress asked Damon, taking his empty glass.
“No, thanks,” Damon replied. “Just some tonic water with lime.”
While waiting for their drinks, Damon asked Callie what she thought of Chicago so far. He liked her voice, which sounded even better in person than it had on the phone. It was low and a little husky, somewhat at odds with her cherubic face.
The drinks arrived, and Callie took a big gulp of her wine. She was clearly nervous, and he wanted to put her at ease. He talked easily, keeping the focus on her. He pretended to be interested in her stupid little museum job and her boring life back home, pleased when she seemed to be relaxing.
He kept the talk light and neutral during the meal, telling her a little about the non-existent philanthropic foundation that he managed for the family, and returning to her mundane life with feigned interest.
“So,” Damon eventually said once the waitress had cleared away their plates and deposited dessert menus in front of them. “Diana tells me you’re into BDSM?”
Callie ducked her head, a flush moving over her skin. “Oh, um. Not really into it. I mean, I don’t have actual experience.”
Damon lifted his eyebrows, pretending to be surprised. “But didn’t you and Diana meet on a BDSM website?”
Her blush deepened. “Yeah. But I haven’t done any actual, you know, real live BDSM. I guess I’m what you’d call BDSM-curious.”
Damon smiled. This was going to be so much fun. His cock hardened at the thought of all the wonderful, terrible things he was going to do to her. “The cool thing about BDSM,” he said aloud, “is that it appeals to and satisfies a broad spectrum of tastes and desires. You might find you just enjoy a little light bondage and playful spanking, or you might discover you crave the intensity of a full body flogging or intensive caning. For the true masochist, pleasure and pain blend together into a wonderful alchemy of sensation that’s far more powerful than plain old vanilla.”
He placed his hand lightly over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze as he looked into those big brown eyes.
Callie stared back, her pupils dilating, her nipples stiffening beneath that school-girl blouse of hers, the color high in her cheeks. She was into him and what he was saying. The girl might be an innocent, but she was ripe for the plucking.
“I’m sorry,” he lied, withdrawing his hand and leaning back with a shake of his head. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
The waitress reappeared. “Did you make your decisions? The strawberry cheesecake is my personal favorite.”
Damon looked to Callie, who put a hand on her flat midriff and shook her head. “Not for me, thanks. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Damon smiled at the waitress. “Not tonight, thanks.” Then, as if the idea just occurred to him, he added, “But bring us each a snifter of your best cognac, along with the bill.”
As the waitress scurried off to do his bidding, he turned back to Callie. “I hope you’ll excuse me ordering for you without asking. I just don’t want the evening to end.” He fixed her with a soulful gaze, guaranteed to melt even the hardest female heart.
Predictably, Callie flushed prettily, her eyes widening. He almost felt guilty at how easy this was going to be. “Oh,” she said softly.
Then, as if she were actually in cahoots with him, determined to make it as easy as possible, she added, “If you’ll just excuse me. I’m going to take a quick trip to the restroom.”
As she walked away, Damon observed her ass—perhaps a little smaller than he would have liked, but nicely rounded.
