Before Amanda could reply, I spoke up. “Thanks, but I’ve got dessert covered. Just the check when you get a chance, please.”
He nodded, and I saw the twinkle of understanding in his eye. “Sure thing. Be right with you.”
“Hey, that cake sounded delicious. Did you ever think that maybe I wanted to try it?” Amanda gave me a quelling glare, complete with raised eyebrows.
“Baby, I brought you a special dessert. I made it for you today, while I was thinking about tonight and being with you. It’s upstairs, waiting for us in our room. And I can promise you that it’s better than any fucking Black Forest cake.”
She gave a huff of laughter, but I knew she was intrigued. “Cocky as always, Vincent. I don’t like it when people—men in particular—presume they know better about what I want than I do.”
“In this case, I do know better. If we were arguing law, I’d give you the benefit of the doubt. So now you should do the same for me.” I thought about what was inside the white bakery box, and my mouth watered. I wasn’t arrogant, but I knew when I did something well—and what was in that box was some of my best work, ever.
“Fine. I bow to your culinary prowess.” She settled back in her chair. “But only because I know that if the dessert bombs, you’ll be even more motivated to make it up to me in other, more interesting ways.”
I chuckled. “I’m not worried, sweetheart. I plan to blow your mind ... in every way possible.”
Amanda’s eyes widened, and she gave a little hum of anticipation as she craned her neck to look toward the kitchen. “Whereisthat waiter, anyway? Suddenly, for some reason, I’m impatient for my dessert.”
Our room wasn’t huge, but the bed was, and honestly, did anything else matter?
“That meal was divine,” Amanda sighed as she kicked off her shoes and dropped her purse on a chair. I bit back a smile, remembering suddenly the state of her bedroom at home and wondering if the same tendencies would carry through here. I’d have to watch where I stepped in the dark.
“Yeah, mine was good, too.” I unzipped my bag and withdrew a small cooler pack. “Are you ready for dessert?”
“Oooooh, yes, I am.” The tone of her voice didn’t leave any doubt about what she wanted, and a surge of intense need ripped through me. “Just let me get into something ... a little more interesting.” She picked up her suitcase and headed for the bathroom.
“By something, I hope you mean nothing,” I called as she closed the door.
“I promise, you won’t be disappointed. Sometimes a little something is even better than a lot of nothing.” There was rustling on the other side of the door. “You just make sure my dessert is ready for me when I come out there, because I’m tired of waiting. For everything.”
Those were the most promising words I’d heard in ages. “I’m on it.” I opened up the cooler pack and took out the bakery box, setting it on the nightstand next to the bed. And then, since she still wasn’t out of the bathroom yet, I unbuttoned my shirt, pulling it out of my waistband and leaving it open. During one of our many phone sex sessions, Amanda had confessed that she had a thing for me in unbuttoned dress shirts, and I’d tucked away that knowledge for a time such as this.
The door creaked open, and Amanda emerged. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, which were bare—meaning I approved so far. Bare was always good. Then I realized that actually, they weren’t completely naked; there were actually tiny lace straps that held up the kind of nightie that guys dream of seeing on their woman.
The material, whatever it was, was thin, shiny and clingy. Those were all perfect. It was red, which was the color I’d associate with this woman for the rest of my life. It dipped low between her tits and then cascaded to just below her ass. And fuck me sideways, there was a matching pair of skimpy lace panties.
“I’m ready for dessert,” she said softly. “What do think? Am I properly attired?”
“Baby,” I breathed. “There’s not one fucking thing proper about what you have on right now ... which means, hell, yeah. It’s perfect.” I reached out to skim a finger down the slope of one exposed breast.
“Ah, ah, ha.” She took one step back. “I was promised dessert. I want something sweet.” Climbing onto the bed, she crossed her legs, giving me a tantalizing glimpse between her legs. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to hold out, not with her boobs jiggling and her legs right there in front of me.
I swallowed hard and sat down next to her, closer to the nightstand, where I had exactly what she wanted.
“Close your eyes.” I touched the tip of her nose. “You want dessert? Close your eyes and show me how much you trust me.”
Amanda rolled her eyes, but I saw her mouth curve into a half-smile. “Trust is earned, Vincent. It’s not something I just give away.”
“Haven’t I done anything to earn yours?” I watched her closely, and so I noticed right away when her expression changed, softening.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, you have.” Her eyes drifted closed, and her lips parted, expectantly.
I opened the small white box and took an appreciative sniff. The small pastries glistened in the room’s dim light as I lifted one between two fingers and slid it into Amanda’s waiting mouth.
Her tongue darted forward to taste what I offered, and she moaned softly.
“So good.”
“Take all of it.” My voice was low and intense. “Open a little wider and take it all.”
