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A mixture of emotions crosses her face, yet instead of acknowledging them, she sweetly sighs, “Done.”
The long, thick locks are pulled to the side of her face to rest upon her shoulder for my gazing. I groan in approval and resume drinking my champagne.
Our conversation thankfully shifts away from her family. We briefly discuss how she spent the day caring for the damage done to her hair but leave it behind to revisit the topic of nursing school so that I can clarify there will be no one-on-one study dates with other males. That easily leads us into what she’s most excited to learn this semester. Each subject smoothly flows into the next as we dine on bistec de palomilla – a Cuban steak dish she mentioned the night before loving but not being able to afford having often – and almost finish off two bottles of champagne. She mainly does the talking, something I get the impression she doesn’t get to do much of, and I happily devour every word.
Every syllable.
Every movement her mouth makes.
Between watching her lips move and her hair bounce, my cock stays hard or half mast, ready and willing to stake claim where my tongue did yesterday.
At some point, we talk a little bit about the company I run, which naturally transitions us into talks of travel.
“I don’t know.” She innocently shrugs as an answer to my question. “I’ve never really thought about it. Vacations were not something I grew up having, so I don’t know where my dream one would be.”There’s only a short pause prior to her saying, “Hm…,” Zel runs her fingers through the strands nearest her neck instilling hunger and envy alike, “Tahiti?”
“You cannot answer my question with a question, little doll.”
“Tahiti,” she sasses on a smirk. “In one of those hut things, right on the water, with full butler service. Maybe not your butler.” There’s a spark in her gaze as she mentions Dietrich.
That prompts a response that I’ve used sparingly over the years, even as a young man. Zel returns my smile. “I can imagine it now . . . sun and pampering and daquiris. It looks so pretty in the screensavers.” One stroke is given to the top of her chest, redirecting my stare. “What about you, Mr. Billionaire? Where would you go?”
“The ICEHOTEL 365 in Sweden.”
“What is that?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” I lightly chortle. “A hotel made entirely of ice.”
“So, you wanna shiver for your entire vacation?”
“I can think of plenty of ways to stay warm, little doll…”
Zel sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to suppress a moan.
“Come over here, and I’ll show you exactly what I have in mind.”
Zel’s fingertips suggestively stroke up and down the spine of her wine glass. “Is that a command, sir?”
“Yes.”
My new plaything instantly rises to her feet and saunters the short distance around the white cloth-covered table to be in front of me. Unlike last night where my hands and mouth did the exploring, it’s my dick’s turn.
And it won’t be denied.
I slowly stand yet swiftly shift her ass onto the now nearly empty table. Her wide mouth gasp tempts me into putting my tongue in the one place I hadn’t planned on.
That I don’t make a habit of doing.
As if the tricky little toy can read my mind, she gives the edge of my tie a sweet tug. “Kiss me, sir.”
Groans of hunger linger in the back of my throat as the tips of my fingers travel under her dress for her hips, anxious to rip off her panties and dive inside.
The tip of her high heel-covered toe gently strokes itself along the outside of my leg. “Please, sir?”
Yanking her to me by the delicate strings, I growl, “I don’t kiss my dolls.”
“Why not?”
“Kissing is risky.”
