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Whereas he savors every single second of my anticipation.
God, he's so sexy staring at me like he's going to mount me.
Why is he so sexy?
It's not fair.
"I do." I take a long sip of my coffee. As if that's the only thing keeping me here. As if that's the only reason why I'm not currently under the table.
Okay, he's right. The table is way too low. I'd hurt myself.
And I don't want it like that anyway.
I want him looking at me.
I want to be able to see him. To see the bliss spread over his expression. To hear my name fall from his lips.
It sounds so good on his lips.
"You do?" He raises a brow, inviting me to elaborate.
"I do want that."
"To go to the MoMA?"
"Cam!"
"It's a great museum. Only in New York."
"Have you really not been?"
"Not recently."
"Oh my god."
He motions go on. "We can see The Starry Night."
That's a Van Gogh painting. The famous one with the city and the stars. There's a print on the wall to our right.
"Should I check the special exhibit?" He pulls out his cell. "Or if we should go to the Met instead?"
A whine falls from my lips.
"That is what you're saying, isn't it, Sienna?" He tries to hold a poker face, but he breaks with a smile. "You do… want to go a museum?"
I shake my head.
"You want to go for a run? You missed this morning."
Again, I shake my head.
"Hmm… what could it be then? The Sienna I know isn't shy about asking for what she wants. And I just told her how sexy it is."
Okay, I can say this. "In the limo."
Again, he raises a brow.
"I'll say it there."
"Say what?"
"I do want to… do that with you."
"Are we talking about the museum again?"
My cheeks flush.
His smile widens. "In the limo. If you say it." He finishes his coffee then he leans across the table and kisses me. He grabs the check, motions one minute, and heads to the register.
I take a deep breath. Try to find my confidence.
I do want to suck him off.
A lot.
Just thinking about it, my entire body is buzzing.
It's harder to say the words stone-cold sober. But he's right. I'm not shy. I'm not afraid to ask for what I want.
What's the worst he'll say?
No.
God, he'd say no just to torture me. He really would.
But not now. He already promised. And I, uh.
Yes. I can.
I open my cell camera and fix my lipstick. The red-pink shade that screams I'm a woman who gets what I want and I want this makeup on your cock.
Okay, maybe it only says the first part.
But I can say the rest.
At least… in text.
I tap out the words.
Sienna: I want to suck you off.
Then I hit send.
A moment later, Cam shoots me a coy look. He smiles of course and taps a reply.
Cam: You still have to say it.
Sienna: Once we're alone.
Cam: I already called the driver. He'll be here in five. I'll meet you outside.
Okay. Five minutes to say it. To meet Cam outside.
That's a lot of time for preparation.
I gather my stuff, use the bathroom, consider taking off my panties, decide against it.
I want him to see my lingerie. The lingerie he bought me. The lingerie I'm wearing for him.
I want him to take it off.
And I—
I apply another coat of lipstick. Pop a breath mint. Head outside.
The limo arrives early. The driver opens the door for me. Nods a hello and motions for me to slip inside.
The touch of luxury doesn't feel as strange as it usually does. It feels right.
Of course, I'm going to touch him in a limo. That's my life now. Or at least, my weekend.
A weekend of fucking a hot, rich guy who adores me. Who I adore.
That's my usual criteria. Hot, rich, good in bed. And he loves soccer.
And he likes me.
And I like him.
A lot.
Maybe even more.
Maybe everything.
But definitely enough I want to taste him.
I set my purse on the bench seat. Smooth my jeans.
A few moments later, Cam slips inside.
The door closes behind him.
The space darkens. No strange purple mood lighting or disco balls or cheesy music. Just the afternoon light streaming in through the tinted windows.
"To the MoMA?" he teases.
I growl.
He smiles. "Music."
Yes, music. "Something sexy."
"What meets your criteria?"
"What you think is sexy."
He nods, attaches his cell to the sound system, plays a pulsing EDM song. It's not what I'd normally think of as sexy, but it's super hot.
"Did you have a playlist ready?"
"What do you think I do when I'm listening to music in my hotel room?"
"When you're not crying?"
He nods.
"You're making playlists."
"For different moods."
"Have you used this with someone else?"
"Never."
"Oh. Good."
He motions to the window. "Should I tell him to drive to the MoMa?"
"If there's enough time."
He shrugs is there.
"I don't care where we go after this." I move closer. So my thigh is pressed against his. "As long we can do this."
