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Then another disturbing thought occurred to me.
“Wait, are we going on a date?” I asked, sliding my dress over my head and adjusting it until it laid correctly.
“Not exactly,” he said, locking his office. He grabbed my hand, leading me out to the parking lot, which confused me even further. Handholding was not exactly the act of a casual sex partner. I said nothing as he led me to the passenger seat of a sleek black sedan. Once my door was closed, I shivered slightly as the air swooshed against my legs. My face, still burning with heat from being blasted in his office chair, welcomed the cold. What he had just accomplished in mere minutes took most men months. I was soaking wet and couldn’t wait to feel that huge cock fill me up. I was suddenly irritated I had to wait longer. Then again, I loved the idea of his plans.
He sat next to me and sta
rted the car. I stayed quiet, not wanting to break the hum of my limbs. I was suddenly ravenous and now a little happier about dining. He stayed silent as well as he drove, adjusting the temperature for comfort, and turning on some music to fill the silent cabin. I looked out of my window, remembering the feel of his tongue and fingers. If the workings of his mouth were any indication of what this man could do, I was all for the game we were playing. We pulled into a Mexican restaurant. I waited in my seat as he opened the door for me. When we were seated, he must have noticed my frown.
“What is it, Violet?” he asked, taking a tortilla chip from the bowl that had just been set down before us.
“Nothing,” I said, looking around the restaurant, none too pleased with the fact we weren’t dining in a classier place.
“Ah,” he said smirking. “You were expecting to be dined at a five-star restaurant and fed buttered lobster from my fingers, is that it?”
“Well, not exactly,” I said, completely busted.
He opened his menu, trying to hide his deep smile, but I saw it.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I was hoping for something like that,” I said, picking up my menu.
“Uh huh,” he said, his chest moving with his chuckle.
“You’re doing it again, Rhys,” I said, a warning in my voice. “Laughing at my expense.”
“You make it too easy.” He closed his menu and leaned over. “Sorry, but you have obviously read one too many erotica books.”
I crossed my arms and sat back, defiant. “So what? That’s what we women crave, to be worshipped and showered with gifts and adored while getting our brains fucked out.”
He leaned over, closed my menu, and looked directly at me, his stare hot, making me shift suddenly. “I intend to make you crave me after I worship, shower, adore your pussy and fuck your brains out. But tonight, I’m in the mood for Mexican, okay, princess?”
I nodded quickly as I opened my menu. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I have no right to expect anything like that. And please don’t call me a princess or the next time I have your dick in my mouth I’ll bite hard and not in a pleasurable way.”
To that, he chuckled. “Noted.”
When the waiter came, we ordered fajitas and margaritas, keeping our conversation light. I finished my plate and looked at him with a question.
“Do you take all your tourists to dinner?”
“Tourists?” His lips curled at the edges. “I guess that would be an appropriate word for you at the moment. And yes, all the ladies that I have a sexual relationship with get fed at some point.”
“Why? That’s more of a dating type of thing to do.” He looked at me incredulously and shook his head.
“Well, this is not a scenario where you are fucking a man with no heart. Again with the books. I have feelings, emotions. I’m not made of steel, I bleed and I like to get to know the women I fuck. It’s a matter of feeling them out, seeing what they prefer, their wants and needs. Sex is just as psychological as it is physical, Violet. I date. I have relationships. Not all people into kink have some sort of demon to battle. It’s a sexual preference.”
“That club is like something out of one of my books.”
He exhaled. “Violet, that club was handed to me. None of it was my idea.”
“So what you’re saying is you’re normal?” I asked, the disappointment in my voice unmistakable.
“Sorry to disappoint you again. Would you prefer I acted like a pompous ass with mental issues and ordered you around like a bitch in heat?”
“I don’t know,” I said, sipping my margarita.
“That’s the point, you don’t. We are going to find out. For now, why don’t you just go with it? Why are you getting a divorce?”
That question threw me for a loop and I downed my margarita and gave him an honest answer.
