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30
Nicolette
Sitting in a nice restaurant with someone other than my father or Pierce is weird. Even more so when I get to pick my own food. That’s the thing about Kris. He doesn’t really choose anything for me. He lets me decide what I want and when I want it.
The waitress has flirted and damn near pushed her tits into his face. It would be super annoying if I was the jealous type, and it wasn’t hilarious.
“Hey Pan, tell me how you handled all the fame. As a normal person without limitations.”
He chuckles. “What’s normal? I mean, I always sort of had little groupies, mom put me in the choir at four, and I was her little cherub. I was playing and singing in the quad all the time in High School, so girls were more of an obstacle than anything else. I mean, I didn’t think they were, but grades slipped while I was getting my tip wet. As far as all that fame?” he drops his eyes looking into his glass of wine. “I’m gonna need something stronger to finish my answer.”
“If you want a drink, get it. I’m not stopping you. I just don’t want you to be so drunk you don’t remember tonight, tomorrow.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t do that. I promised myself I would no longer drink alone, and to ask you to do something you simply won’t isn’t fair.” He sighs and downs the rest of his glass with two large gulps, followed by a third that seems to be to center himself. “Unlike you, I never really faced fame. It came in the wake of the accident. TV, reporters, my tour. I boozed it up to keep it together and imploded finally that night in London, as I’m sure you are aware.”
“Actually, I don’t know anything other than things you’ve told me. I looked up Kris King, but I couldn’t find anything. Dad and Pierce were obviously no help. I felt after we didn’t get along on day one that I needed to know more about you, but all I saw was your ass.”
Before he can answer, that big-tittied waitress comes back. “Is there anything I can do for you? Another glass of wine, perhaps?”
“How about a double scotch neat for him, and I’ll take something sweet and fruity.”
“Oh, you want a hurricane.” The waitress smiles. “It’s definitely that and comes with a cherry to play with.” She winks before walking away.
“Are you sure?” Kris asks, putting his out toward me. He asks for a table before we sit, then proceeds to whisper to me that it is from my virtue.
“Yes, it’s not like one adult beverage is going to kill me.”
“Glad I charged my phone.” He snickers, swiping his roll through the juices on his plate from his bloody steak and taking a bite with a satisfied little moan. He’s right. That is sorta hot.
“Be nice to me, Pan. I’m a woman on edge.”
He reaches across the table, taking my hand, “Don’t worry about the edge because I’m here to be your parachute.”
“I’ve already seen what you look like over the top of me.”
“Over the top, perhaps, but wait until I’m strapped inside.” His voice is low, gruff, and full of promises.
“Promises, promises.” I smile as the waitress brings our drinks over.
I’ve got an orange drink. I watch Kris through my lashes as he savors his drink. The contented sigh that comes from him tells me I’ve done something right.
We’re on round three or four when Kris asks me to dance. His hands are splayed just about the curve of my ass as my hands are supposed to be around his neck. Yet, they aren’t. My fingers are playing with the hem of his jeans under his shirt.
“Pan, can you tell me again about being strapped inside me?” I ask with what I hope was a sexy purr.
There’s that growl again. His hand slips away from my ass and grasps my wrist firmly enough to get my complete attention. “Tink, if you can ask me that again in the morning without blushing, I’ll not only tell you, but I’ll call the concierge, get a box of condoms and show you until it’s empty.” He sighs as I smile, grasping his waistband.
“Why wait until morning? I don’t want to wait.” My right-hand runs up his chest as my left is playing with the button on his jeans. “Pan, my thighs are all sticky, and I miss the way you made me feel already.”
“I hear you, and I believe you, but I’m drunk, and I think you may be a bit too. I don’t want my first time with you to be a sloppy mess. I want you, of that, you can be certain, so while I am not prepared to make love to you tonight, how about we go upstairs, and I take care of you? Would you like that?” He pulls my hands down from their tactical assaults.
“Okay, Pan, I hear you.” I lean against him, and before I know it, I’m in his arms.
***
I wake with a stretch and the need to pee. Moving from the bed to the bathroom, I relive myself before washing my hands and looking at myself in the mirror. I’m in another one of Kris’ shirts with no panties. I bite the tip of my finger. I remember everything. He wasn’t drunk. I was well on my way, though. He turned me away for my benefit, not his. He told me in the morning. Checking the clock, I see it’s twelve fifteen in the morning. He said morning, it’s morning.
Heading back into the bedroom, I can see him by the light of the moon coming in the windows. He’s got a peace about him I don’t usually see.
“Pan, are you awake?” I say low. I don’t want to be loud and scare him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, as I climb back into bed beside him. He’s on his back, sheet down low enough that I can see just the faintest bit of hair below his navel. Biting my lip, I scratch my nails up his ribs, then down, still nothing. This man sleeps like the dead, but I know what will wake him.
Pulling the sheet back just enough, I slip beneath and center myself over his legs. His cock is noteworthy, even limp. With a tentative swallow, I wrap my fingers around the base, and he lifts slightly. Wetting my lips, I lick him from base to tip. He’s salty but not too much. Swirling my tongue over the head, I draw my hand up, collecting a good amount of spit so I can slip my hand back down easily. He groans, and I feel his hands move as I take his hardening cock into my mouth, they tangle into my hair, and his ass lifts up, driving his head to the back of my throat.
Yes, this is what I want. Him hard, needing me as much as I need him.
“Teeth. Use your teeth.” He gruffs out, his nails massaging the back of my head.
I drag my teeth slightly up and down his shaft, and I swear he’s purring. I go faster until I feel him get completely rigid. Pushing the sheet back, I rip the tee shirt off, and since I’m already straddling him, the next step should be easy as pie.
