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She takes a large gulp of wine, and I can sense her stress.
“You’re not worried, right? I mean, you’re his mom. You seem like a model citizen—despite your proclivity for wearing dresses that make men want to rip them off your body.” I wink at her. “You should be okay.”
She laughs at this but says, “I’m not that worried, but let’s talk about something else.”
“Fine by me.” I pull her closer to me. She seems to welcome the closeness and burrows herself into my side.
“Let’s talk about how much I thought about you and your pussy this week.”
At that unexpected, but welcome subject change, I feel her relax. She puts a hand on my thigh and says, “Did you?”
“Yes. I’ve thought about you with your legs spread apart while I eat you ’til you cry and beg me to stop.”
I put my hand on her thigh under her dress. I run it slowly up her leg until I gets to the middle of her inner thigh, and then I start to knead the flesh there.
She sighs, I can feel the heat coming from her pussy. I know she wants my hands to give her relief.
“Tell me, Red. Tell me what you need,” I whisper in her ear.
I look around the restaurant but no one is paying any attention to our little corner.
She closes her eyes and breathes. “I need you to touch me, Dean.”
“No. Tell me what I want to fucking hear. Don’t be a lady with me. I want you tell me what you want.”
Her heart is racing. I can see the pulse thudding in her throat. Milly doesn’t curse. She doesn’t even think the words I want her to say. But I can tell she wants to . . . that she wants to find that part of herself and explore it.
I know that the rubbing of my hand on her thigh is beginning to feel like torture. Her hips are moving in small circular motions. She needs release.
“Tell me right now, or I will stop,” I growl.
“Touch my pussy, Dean. Please, fuck my pussy with your fingers,” she whispers, and my hand flies up her leg and does just as she asks. As I suspected, she’s not wearing any underwear.
I slip two fingers inside of her and her eyes fly open as they stretch her swollen, sensitive flesh. My thumb presses down on her clitoris and I apply a firm pressure while I start to move my fingers in and out of her.
“Your wish is my command,” I whisper in her ear.
She looks at me, her golden gaze locked onto my green one. And it feels like our hearts are the only two still beating in the entire universe. We are completely alone in this crowd.
“This feels so good,” she chokes out, and I can tell she wants to say more, but the words won’t come. They are trapped in her throat.
“I want you to sit here, baby, with my fingers inside of you. Our waitress is coming to take our order. Do you think you can handle it?”
She shakes her head to say no. She's so close, and I know that the idea of her being here while my fingers are inside of her threaten to send her over the edge. This public act is a turn on for her; I can feel her grow even wetter on my fingers.
“If you can’t, I will stop,” I whisper.
She gasps. She doesn’t want me to stop. She plasters a smile on her face as our waitress comes back. She rattles off the specials for the evening, and I know neither of us barely hear a word she says. I tell her I’ll have the fish and Milly orders a steak.
Just as she walks away, I start to move my thumb over h
er clit, watching her face intently. It is a portrait of all of the different shades of pleasure. When I touch a spot that makes her clench around my fingers, I start to rub and in less than fifteen seconds she's coming.
I put my mouth over hers, swallowing her moans as she comes. This time, I kiss her with my tongue and I can taste the tartness of her wine mingling with the tang of my whiskey.
I pull my fingers out of her as she comes down from her orgasm. I put them under my nose and inhale. She smells so good.
“Divine,” I whisper. I pull out my napkin and wipe my fingers clean. “That’s just to tide me over until later.”
