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“See this is why we don’t talk about shit when we’re together.”
“If the shit’s worrying you, I want to know,” I tell him. Maybe that’s too forward. It surprises him. I mean it though.
“I don’t want the shit in the way when I’m with you Angel doll, and it’s already cut into our date. Our date which we will be enjoying. Humor me, I don’t get out much.”
I actually laugh. He must be joking. I’m sure men like him are always out.
“What the hell’s funny Doll?” He smirks.
“You trying to act like you don’t go out. I’m sure I’m just tonight’s woman.” I’m not stupid.
I’m not. I won’t make the mistake of thinking he’s only with me. The look he gives me though makes me question that.
“You think you’re tonight’s woman?” he counters and raises his hand to his temple like he’s in deep thought.
“You’re going to tell me I’m not?”
“Who was I with last night? And the night before and the night before, And the night before?”
He was with me.
“There are the mornings and lunch time.”
“Like fuck. It was you who was in my bed all those times and all the other times I had to make a cameo at work and rest my dick.”
I burst out laughing and he smoothes his hand up my chin. That kiss he said he couldn’t give me is planted on my lips and a blast of electricity washes over me.
I don’t know how I could feel like it’s the first time we’re kissing.
How could it feel so invigorating and arousing?
Our tongues tangle and he runs his hand down to my breasts and squeezes, then right down to my hips and my thighs where he pushes up the hem of my dress so he can get between my legs. Instinctively I part for him and forget where we are.
The world could have faded away completely when he slipped his finger under the lace of my panties and pushes straight inside my pussy.
It doesn’t take much for me to get wet. He stills on my lips and looks at me for a few seconds while he fingers me.
We’re behind the table and people shouldn’t be able to see what we’re doing but I’m certain they can guess. They would have seen him grope me.
“Oh fuck, baby… you’re wet.” He groans.
I try to stifle a moan but it’s difficult with his fingers working me.
“Push your hair to the side.”
“What?”
“Do it,” he commands.
The minute I flick my hair over to my right I see why he told me to do that. It covers me and shields us. Insane wild sexual desire takes over and I don’t flicker an eye lid when he pulls the top of my dress down so my left breast pops out.
The cold night air hardens the nipple, puckering it toward him and he bends his head down to suck. I stroke his head and enjoy the soft suckle for the few seconds he tastes me, still enjoying the slow stroke of his finger inside my pussy.
This is so unlike me, but I like it.
He lifts his head, fixes back my top, and pulls his finger from inside me.
His face is stern and there’s a wildness in his eyes that I fully recognize.
