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Her mouth opens slightly, and she freezes. Once she realizes how serious I am, she falters for a second. With one last smoldering look, she boldly stands and hurries toward the bathroom. I imagine her in the stall, lifting her short skirt and stepping out of her panties.
I take the time during her absence to wonder what they look like. Are they black? A thong? I feel my cock stir in my pants, and I have to remind myself we’re in a very popular restaurant. I watch the clock anxiously. She’s late. Three minutes later, she emerges from the restroom, the whites of her eyes showing more than usual, and her cheeks are stained deep red with her arousal.
“You’re two minutes late, Alana.” My deep voice barely carries over the clinging, clanging, and talking in the bar.
I stare at her thighs where the end of the skirt rests, and I picture her bare skin under the silky material. She was so responsive in the office. I know she’s already wet for me.
“There was a line,” she says.
When she finishes speaking, she squeezes her thighs together, and I know she’s attempting to apply friction to her neglected, swollen clit. I rub my palm over the crotch of my dress pants to show her I’m not unaffected. My pants are tight enough. I know she can make out the head of my cock straining against the fabric. I gently squeeze it while she watches, then cross my legs to hide myself from the clueless people surrounding us.
“Did someone order mac and cheese?” a food runner asks before sitting the bowl down in front of the two of us.
Alana startles and gasps, and I laugh boisterously.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to scare you,” the food runner says before hurrying away to tend to the rest of the patrons.
I see her look down at the food, and several emotions cross her face quickly. The change in conversation has affected her appetite. Food isn’t what she’s craving. I know because the only thing that I want is to climb on top of the granite bar rail and feast on Alana’s body like a buffet. My body runs hot while I think about spreading her legs wide and exposing how drenched she is for me.
I click my tongue and say, “Oh, Alana. I wish I was a mind reader so I could listen to whatever thoughts are making you blush that hard.”
With that, I hold my hand up to get the attention of our bartender. After she makes her way over to us, I order a final round of drinks and ask for a box and the bill.
She turns around to get started with the tasks and I turn to Alana. “I got you a box because I can tell you’re not hungry anymore. Maybe we can take a walk over to the art district?”
“I’m definitely hungry, but you’re right. Let’s get the hell out of here,” she says.
“You’re the boss.” I wink at her, and we’re both quiet as the bartender places the box, bill, and last round of drinks down in front of us.
Alana dares to grab her debit card out of her phone case, and I clear my throat before putting my hand over hers.
“Please don’t insult me. I can pay for our drinks and food,” I admonish her. I make sure she can hear in my voice that this is nonnegotiable, and when she takes her hand away from her debit card, I praise her. “Good girl.”
Her eyes flash, and I can see her pupils dilate.Oh, Alana. You like being told what a good girl you are, don’t you? This is going to be fun.
She watches as I lay my heavy black card on top of the paper bill, pick up her mac and cheese and put it into the to-go container, then drink my last Manhattan in two gulps. I feel her staring at me while I swallow, and when I sit the glass tumbler back down, I lick my lips and wink at her.
Once I put my card away, our fingers interlace when I reach over and help her stand. “Let’s go,” I say as I lead her out of the restaurant.
29
Chapter Twenty Nine
Alana
The buzzing of my phone in my pocket distracts me as we leave. There’s an incoming text from an unknown number, and a chill creeps up my spine.
UNKNOWN:
You really shouldn’t be out with other men, Alana. Being a slut doesn’t suit you.
I bristle at the insult, and the hair on the back of my neck stands at attention. How would anyone know I’m with Andreas? The only people I told were Ashley and Ricole, and they wouldn’t ever write something so cruel, not even as a joke. With all the strange things happening lately, I immediately feel nauseous. My vision swims with the tears I’m now trying to hold back. A firm grip around my waist brings me back to the moment.
“Alana, are you okay? You look like you’re about to faint.” I can hear the concern in Andreas’ voice as he questions me. I look up at him, still holding back tears, and turn my phone screen toward him so that he can read the text message.
Andreas’ eyes squint, and his brow furrows. “Is this the first text message you’ve received, or have there been others?”
“This isn’t the first. I think I’ve gotten one before. It wasn’t rude, though. Just weird.”
