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It wasn't really much. Only the result of a few phone calls and some careful planning. Yet to her, it's everything, which only reminds me further how important the small things are. A woman like Bianca deserves the world, and I'll do anything in my power to make sure she feels and sees how important she is to me.
“Everything… it's amazing.” Before taking the seat I've pulled out for her, she leans over and gently kisses my lips. “Thank you for making me feel like a Queen. It's unnecessary because anywhere I am that allows me to spend time with you makes me happy, but it is appreciated.”
“That's how I want you to feel always, forever. You're my Queen, and you deserve to be treated as one at all times.” After getting her seated, I gesture to the young woman waiting by the kitchen doors, who approaches with a bottle of sparkling cider and a pair of champagne flutes. “Alcohol is off the table, obviously, but I couldn't let the night pass without a toast.”
Once our flutes are filled, I touch mine to hers. “Too many, many nights like this.”
“Yes, and to a great future full of even more amazing moments together.”
I grin, my own joy overflowing, “I hope you're in the mood for Italian.”
“That's a joke, right? I'm always in the mood for Italian. I've been craving spaghetti. Just plain spaghetti. I have no idea why.” Yes, and I heard her confessing that to Sheryl in the kitchen this morning, hence my choice of restaurant.
“That's easier than pickles and ice cream or ranch with mac and cheese.”
“I always figured that pregnancy cravings were nothing but a myth, though I swear, I could shove my face in a bowl of plain pasta right now and be content.” She looks down at herself and frowns, “It's sad. I won't be able to fit into this dress for much longer.”
The thought makes my cock hard immediately. I can't wait to see her swollen with my seed, her belly bulging with life inside. Fuck, if I don't stop thinking like this, we won't make it through dinner. “I hope you're not worried about what I'm going to think or how I'll feel about you getting bigger, because if you're thinking that I'll be disgusted or upset, you're sorely mistaken. I can't wait to see your beautiful body swollen with our child.”
“You mean you'll still want me even when I look like a whale?” She holds her arms out to the sides and puffs out her cheeks. The expression is adorable, but her fear of me disliking her body or size well into her pregnancy, or after, not so much.
“Are you kidding? If I don't stop picturing you round with our child, I won't be responsible for who sees you on this table with your legs spread wide open, your pussy on display for me to feast on. I'll have to let them know I don't need anything from the menu and that I'm already eating the most delicious thing my tongue has ever tasted.”
A pink blush creeps into her cheeks. “I'd say there is no way you'd do something like that, but I'm not willing to take the risk so I have no doubt I'd find myself on my back in seconds if I disagreed.”
“Do you want to find out? Because you know how I feel about your pussy, Bianca. I'll eat you until you beg me to stop and then I'll keep going just to prove a point.” And I will. When it comes to her, I'm obsessed. Forever hungry.
“No, no. I believe you.” She smiles, even though I don't miss the flickering flames of lust in her eyes as she denies it.
The waitress brings out the salad and the aromatic, freshly baked rosemary focaccia bread. “I know this is a strange question, but I want to get to know you better, see what makes you tick, and discover what it is you want out of life.”
“Okay, so ask away.” She grins.
“Well, what do you want to do with your life?”
She almost chokes on a mouthful of bread, then laughs. “Wow. Nothing like coming out with the big questions right away.”
“I told you it was going to be a pointed question, but I genuinely want to know what it is you want to do?”
“This isn't a trick question?”
“Of course not.” Smirking when she tips her head to one side, I add, “I understand why you would guess that, but trust me. We don't talk much about you, and I would like to change that.”
“Okay.” She seems to give it real thought while our server sets a platter of cheese and roasted vegetables between us. “You know, I always figured I had everything in place. I wanted to work in economics, get a stable job that came with a retirement fund, all that stuff.” She drizzles honey over a piece of parmesan, then moans as she places it in her mouth.
“Careful,” I warn, lifting an eyebrow. “I don't know how far my self-control will get us if you insist on turning me on with those sexy sounds.”
“Sorry.” The wicked gleam in her eyes tells a different story. We both know this will only lead to me ravishing her once we get home—if I can wait that long. I've already envisioned fucking her right here on the table.
“Anyway, it feels wrong turning my back on that.” I keep my thoughts to myself, although I imagine good old Charlie drilling that into her head. “They always say hands-on experience is the best kind, and I have to say that's true. After spending time working in an office, I don't know if I want to do that for the rest of my life.” I can almost feel her indecision when her brow furrows. “So many people would kill for a stable job like that though, so I feel….”
“That doesn't mean you have to want it. I think one of the saddest things in life is watching someone talk themselves into something they don't want, all because they think they should.”
“Right, but I want you to know that this doesn't mean I want to spend the rest of my life hanging around the house or spending your money. I don't want you to think that.”
What would ever possess her to believe I would think that? “Bianca, that is the last thing I'll ever think about when it comes to you. That's not who you are.”
“Good, at least you know that. I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage of you.” Her eyes close once she smears burrata on a piece of focaccia. Bringing it to her mouth, her teeth sink into the bread. “Oh, my God, this is heaven.”
