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We both eat silently, enjoying the food and wine. I sip the glass of red wine eagerly, needing some liquid courage for my plans. The full-bodied red compliments my lamb chops and the rich spices. I drink Adrian in while he does the same to me. His white shirt clings to his taut muscles, highlighting the sculpted six-pack underneath.
I tease him with my movements, licking a drop of wine rolling down the side of the glass, and his eyes fasten on the action. After what seems like hours, we finish our meals. The waiter retrieves our empty plates, leaving dessert menus in their place.
“Would you like anything for dessert?” Adrian asks thickly, his eyes not meeting mine. Instead, they follow my movements as my finger trails along the edge of my plunging neckline. Teasing along the top of my breasts.
“I would,” I purr suggestively. His eyes flash up to meet mine at my tone, brows furrowing in confusion while his eyes scan my face. I bite my lip, teasing him further, drawing his eyes straight to my jutting lower lip. He licks his in anticipation, hunger replacing the confusion in his gaze.
He goes to stand from the table, but I knock my fork onto the floor.
“Oops.” My tone is innocent, unlike the thoughts running through my mind. I exaggerate the ‘O’ shape with my lips. I bend to pick it up, crawling under the table instead. He sits still, oblivious of my intentions until I run my hands up his thighs. The linen of his navy pants is soft against my palms.
He jumps in surprise at my touch, looks down at me below the table. I give him a mischievous grin, sliding my hands further up his legs. He shudders at my touch before relaxing back into his seat, a muttered curse slipping past his lips.
I stifle my giggle, excitement rushing through my veins at the thrill. The fact that Adrian can shield me from the workers’ view only adds to my willingness to follow through with my idea.
I glide my finger up to his waistband and his legs spread, allowing me to slide in closer. I smooth my hand over his crotch, finding his cock already hardening with my touch. Teasing him, I find his zipper, pulling it down one inch at a time. He presses his hips up into my touch, urging me to move faster.
I move my hand away, and he groans in protest at the loss of contact. Punishing him for his impatience. Only continuing once he stops, his movements stilling.
Moving my finger back, I pull the zipper down the rest of the way, my hand slipping into his boxers, drawing out his length from the waistband. I hear his sharp intake of air at the feel of the cool night air on his dick.
I run my fingers up his shaft, taking my time, drawing out each motion and enjoying the feeling of his silky-smooth skin against my fingers. He restrains his movement, his hips begging to push up into my touch.
Rewarding him for his patience, I increase my pace, moving my palm up and down his thick shaft. His cock grows with each stroke.
I lower my mouth, swirling my tongue over his tip, before licking the bead of precum from his swollen head. He relaxes into my touch and hearing his stifled moan of pleasure, despite his attempts to hide it, turns me on even more.
I continue teasing him, moving his cock to the side to lick up his shaft. He shudders under my touch.
At the sound of approaching footsteps, I lower my mouth further onto his length, and he tenses beneath me. I giggle at that, the sound causing vibrations to wash over his cock. I pull him in more, letting his tip hit the back of my throat.
“Have you decided on any dessert, sir?” I hear the waiter ask Adrian, oblivious to me below the table. I hum to myself in thought before picking up my pace, and causing his cock to pulse with pleasure in my mouth. I wish I could see Adrian’s face right now, see his expression as he attempts to hide the pleasure he’s feeling in front of this stranger.
He reaches down to his pocket, his hand just inches from my face. Pulling out a wad of bills, he gives them to the man, muttering something I can’t hear. I increase my pace, and his hand grabs in my hair on instinct. The waiter’s steps fade as he descends the stairs, leaving us alone once more.
“You’re in trouble now,” he drawls, gritting his teeth part way when I hollow out my cheeks, sucking him harder. “Fuck.” The curse flies out now that we’re alone.
He reaches down, pushing my shoulders back before guiding me out from underneath the table. We both stand to the side of the table, and he pulls me to him, crushing me against his hard chest. His length is still out and hard, pressing against my stomach.
I smirk up at him triumphantly, as though I won a prize for making him squirm in front of the waiter. He wastes no time lowering his lips to mine, devouring me, his tongue running along the seam of my lips, searching for entrance. They part eagerly for him, relishing in the friction of his tongue caressing mine, claiming me so thoroughly.
He smooths a hand down my back, stopping at my ass, squeezing it in his palm. Moving his lips from mine, he sucks at my neck, all teasing out the window at this point. Good, I’m done with teasing. He sucks on a spot on my neck right near my jaw. The sensation draws out a moan of pleasure, and my knees buckle slightly in his hold.
“We might be hidden now, but guess what …” He trails off, leaving me in suspense. Yet, I can guess the direction of his following words, and my nipples pebble at the thought.
“He saw you fucking me with your mouth. He watched your head bobbing up and down on my cock,” he drawls seductively, lowering his lips to my ear. His words are rushed and brusque as though taking the time to talk physically pains him. His eyes meet mine, seeing the desperate need there, just as I see the same in his.
In the next moment, he reaches an arm out, keeping my body against his with his other. His free arm swipes across the table, sending the remaining dishes and place settings clattering to the ground.
Mischief lights in his blue gaze as he looks down at me. “You’re my fucking dessert.” He barely gets the words out before lifting me onto the table. His lips lock back on to mine the instant my ass hits the polished wood table, devouring me so completely.
His hands move to the hem of my top, and I help him take it off me, breaking our kiss for only a moment to lift it over my head. Reaching behind me, I unhook my bra, throwing it to the side. Not caring where it lands.
He trails a hand up my stomach and cups my breast, kneading my skin there and teasing my sensitive nipple. I moan into his kiss. My hands trail over his shoulders, pulling off his jacket and working on the row of buttons down his shirt. I run my hands up his chiseled chest, groaning into his mouth at the feel of his firm muscles.
A needy whimper leaves my mouth as he moves back, pushing the shirt off his shoulders. His hands move to the waistband of my skirt. I lift up, letting him pull it off me, over my ass. The cool sea breeze wraps around me, chilling my bare skin. Sitting on the table completely naked, save for my heels and my soaked lace thong, I should feel uncomfortable, but all I feel is aroused.
“Lie back on the table.”
