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“Sounds like a plan,” I say. “Where would you like to go for dessert?”
“Are you a fan of ice cream?”
“Who isn’t?”
“Awesome! Dairy Queen it is!” The doors unlock and she gives me a bright smile before rounding the car to the driver’s door.
Leaving the parking lot, Brittany toots the horn and gives her former date the finger. After that bitch comment, he deserves it, so I flip him off too.
Her boisterous laughter has my grin widening. In the few minutes I’ve been in her company, I think a smile has rarely left my face.
“Thanks, Grant! I love that you’re not uptight.” She flashes me a toothy grin before turning her attention to traffic.
Uptight? I have been called that before. With her, I feel relaxed, unburdened. It’s odd. Other than the few times I’ve gotten drunk, I’ve never felt this carefree.
Crazy enough, for me, that carries over and I’m licking a large vanilla ice cream cone with sprinkles- because why not live a little and enjoy the tasteless bright rainbow-colored toppings, in addition to enjoying the company of such a colorful and fun woman?
Though my mind does wander a little, watching Brittany’s small pink tongue dashing out to lovingly loop around her twist of chocolate and vanilla ice cream. It’s far too easy to think of other places her tongue could lavish that type of rapt attention.
“So Grant, other than having an awesome dog, what else should I know about you?” She smiles brightly, seemingly unconcerned about the smear of white cream gracing her upper lip or the small yellow sprinkle dotting the corner of her mouth.
Because today is all about newfound boldness, I reach out a hand and carefully use my thumb to remove the ice cream and pry the sprinkle away. Her blue eyes flare wide and wider still when I suck the sprinkle off my thumb.
“There are easier ways to do that, you know,” she says, leaning forward in her seat across the small table from me.
Before I can think of what that may be, Brittany’s upper body bends over the table, her face inches from mine. Then her soft lips land on mine and I stop thinking altogether.
The kiss is sweet and far too-brief.
My lips part as she sits back in her seat, and I’m left desperately hungry for a much deeper taste. “Again,” I implore.
Pink blazes in her cheeks, yet her eyes shine even brighter. Casually, she dumps her ice cream onto a napkin on the table and then her hands are reaching for me. I have no napkin, so just drop mine to the tabletop, uncaring of the mess.
Brittany’s thumbs sweep along my cheeks, sending a shiver up my spine. Her slim fingers slide into the short hairs of my beard and my cock engorges, pressing painfully in my confining pants. Her lips meet mine in an explosion of tastes, the sweetness and icy coolness of ice cream lingering on our tongues along with the faint bitterness of the tea from dinner. Eagerly, I enjoy the play of our tongues dancing between our mouths, my hands coming up to grip her nape and shoulder.
Cold permeates the sleeve of my shirt, numbing my elbow. It’s a minor annoyance that barely penetrates the haze of passion swamping my brain. I’m content to kiss Brittany until the Dairy Queen closes. The entire world could stop and still I would happily kiss this woman.
Eventually we must surface for air, our lips parting gently. I’m sure I have a dopey expression on my face as I stare into Brittany’s lovely eyes. At this moment I don’t care. Two hours ago, just talking to her seemed a mere fantasy and now here I sit with her taste on my tongue and the memory of her kisses leaving my cock throbbing for release.
Her eyes round, her hand flying up to her cover her mouth as delighted giggles pour out.
That was not the reaction I was expecting to my kisses.
