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“You missed me?” I asked. “You thought about me every day?”
“Every minute…” He assured me with kisses all over the tops of my breasts. “Every second.”
His hands were working my skirt up, up. He glanced down at his handiwork with a deep sigh.
“You’ve got sexy damned legs.”
“Do I?” I looked down, pulling my dress up even higher to look.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I pulled my skirt up almost to my hips.
“Sara…” There was a warning in his voice, in his eyes
“Can he see us?”
“No.”
“Good.” I grabbed his hand and slid it under the elastic of my pantyhose. He curled his fingers around my sex, his palm over my pubic bone, rocking gently.
“Tease,” he groaned as his fingers slid through the slippery seam of my sex.
“Me?” I gasped, shifting my hips. “Oh that’s so good…”
I kissed him, sliding my tongue along his lips, desperate for him.
“Is it going to be a long ride?” I asked.
Dale sighed. “Not long enough.”
“Then I guess this is the best we can do for now,” I whispered, rubbing the heel of my hand through the thin material of his trousers, feeling him, hard and wanting me.
“For now.” He groaned, his hips rocking with my motion. “Oh God, this is torture.”
It was—the very best kind of torture. We continued to tease and torture each other to the brink of insanity, igniting that pure, animal lust that took over our bodies and minds whenever we were together.
Then the limo pulled up to our destination and I sat up and straightened my dress, my hair, and prayed that wherever we were, it had a nice, soft bed and plenty of water.
Because we were going to need them.
CHAPTER FOUR
When the driver opened the door to the limo, Dale got out first, holding his hand out for me. I took it, my remaining shoe in my hand as I walked barefoot—well, almost, I was wearing nylons—into the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria hotel.
“Dale, you didn’t.” But of course, he had.
I had a rush of déjà-vu as we stood at the counter, checking in. We had just been talking about first times in the limo, and here we were at the Waldorf Astoria, the place he had brought me two years ago. It had been the first night we’d ever spent together. Dale was recreating it, from the limo ride to the hotel.
“Same room?” I asked, watching Dale sign the paper the desk clerk put in front of him.
Dale just smiled and that little dimple his cheek appeared, making him look even more mischievous. He slid the paper over to the desk clerk, an older man, tall with almost white-blond hair he slicked back. He wore round wire-rimmed glasses and he peered over them at me.
“It’s not Halloween,” the desk clerk remarked.
“Huh?” I cocked my head at him, questioning.
“I assume you’re Cinderella?” He pointed to the shoe in my hand.
