Page 22 of Blue Moon

Chapter 9

Sawyer

After a perfect air show, I got ready for our date. I took my time, showering and shaving before getting dressed. Then I massaged in some aftershave and took a final look in the mirror. I was used to wearing my dress blues with all my medals or my flight suit, but these designer threads were foreign to my body. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d worn a suit and tie. I saw myself always as a Marine—first to fight, last to leave. But that was the problem. My identity was entirely tied to my job. Blue Angel, fighter pilot, Marine. Sometimes I didn’t know who I was outside of work. And putting on this monkey suit stripped me of my work identity. It also covered my tattoos and scars. I looked like a businessman. A businessman who was about to go on a date with a beauty queen. Wasn’t that a joke.

When I arrived at Sol’s place, she was already waiting outside, wearing the sexiest black dress. Damn, she really was a knockout. I wanted her so badly. Right now. But I would be patient and wait until after dinner—she would be my dessert.

I got out of my car and opened the door for her. This was way too formal—we were dressed up, and going to dinner in the city. This was most certainly a date. And I never went on dates.

All day I couldn’t stop thinking about Sol. I was dying to eat her pussy, fuck her from behind while slapping that phenomenal ass as she screamed my name.

Fuck Beck and his spend some time getting to know her bullshit. This was a hot weekend fling. All it could ever be. All I wanted it to be.

Yup, I had to have her. Tonight, she would be mine.

The wind blew up her dress, and I hoped to get a glimpse of her panties but had no such luck.

I kissed her cheek, though I wanted to plant one on her lips. Not yet though. Our first kiss would be epic—one for the books. “You look beautiful, babe. Where we headed?”

“Do you like seafood? There’s this amazing Chinese restaurant. Their salt-and-pepper crab is to die for.”

Now we were talking. I’d been eating nothing but the same catered crap for weeks.

“Sounds great. Which way?”

“The city.”

Once we went over the bridge, she directed me through the maze of San Francisco traffic. Who designed this city? There were so many one-way streets, it was a mess. But I sucked it up for our date and kept my thoughts to myself. Luckily, the only traffic I normally had to deal with was air traffic.

We finally arrived at the Embarcadero, and I left my car with the valet. Once outside the car, I saw a long line of people wrapped around the building.

I hated crowds. “Do we have a reservation?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly.”

Nope. Not going to happen. I don’t do trendy hot spots.

I didn’t want to spend my night waiting like cattle when I could be feasting on food. And her. I still hoped I could convince her to go to that dive bar with me after dinner and then back to my hotel. I had to keep this night moving.

“The wait looks pretty long. Let’s find something else.”

She smiled. “Follow me.”

I gladly let her take the lead while I walked behind her and stared at her incredible ass. I couldn’t make out any panty lines. Was she wearing a thong? I’d find out later tonight when I undressed her.

Sol walked up to the hostess, who embraced her and then immediately showed us to a table.

What the . . .

We sat down at the lone empty booth in the back, which had an incredible view. Sol cuddled up next to me, so I put my arm around her and whispered into her ear, “Do you know the owner or something?”

“I mean, not personally, but I’ve been here before, and my Instagram is well-known. If I post a picture of their dishes, they’ll get tons of free publicity.”

Got it. I was starting to see the perks of her job. “So, where’s the menu?”

“Oh, that’s the catch. They’ll serve us what they want me to feature, usually their in-season specials. But they’ll bring the crab dish for sure—it’s their signature dish. Everything will be delicious, I promise.”

Wow. Okay. I didn’t like my choice of entree being taken away, but I wasn’t going to complain. “Can I order a beer, or do they decide what I want to drink, too?”