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I laugh softly to hide my nervousness. Somehow, I have to regain control here.
"I don’t know. I’m not really convinced." I smile nonchalantly, glad that my voice isn’t betrayed by my by trembling.
He leans closer and whispers in my ear, but he lets his words hang in the narrow space between us. "I see. Then I don’t know how else to convince you except..." I'm forced to look at him which makes our lips almost touch. On instinct, I inch backward, my heart thundering so loudly that I’m sure he can hear it.
"Except what?"
"Except by making you writhe underneath me."
Is it possible to cum just from the sound of someone’s voice? Because I swear I'm almost there, if I haven’t already reached that point. What in the world is happening to me? Still, I’ve only had two glasses of wine—about to be three, courtesy of this stranger—so why is my body on fire? I had to regain my senses and fast.
"That’s quite the opening line you've got there. But can you really back it up?"
His hand rides higher up my thigh and I don't move to stop him. It’s almost like a sensual game of chicken. He’s staring into my eyes and moving closer. I’m returning his stare as if daring him to see just how serious he is. At the last minute, I look away to see if people are watching.
"No one’s looking," he says, leaning down again to speak into my ear. His hot breath feathers my skin until I push myself forward into his hand.
Hoping.
Wishing.
Desperately praying that he touches me.
"But if you’re worried that they’ll want to watch, we can leave." He leans back suddenly and winks at me, then presses his hand higher.
I'm almost off my seat the moment his hand makes contact with my folds, caressing me. He curses under his breath as his eyes darken with desire. I didn't wear panties tonight, as if that would give me the extra boost of nerve I’d need to go through with anything. He’s touching my bare skin in a place where no one has ever ventured. Deciding to come here without panties was part of the plan of discarding the old me, and I was so glad I had.
A shudder zips down my spine as he touches me.
I reach for his shoulders, trying to steady myself as his fingers wreak sweet havoc under the loose fabric of my dress.
Our eyes are locked.
I can't look away even if I want to.
I'm spellbound by his gaze.
"My room is upstairs," he says, his voice strained and husky as he stares at me, his eyes ablaze, twin pools of blue flames.
"Lead the way," I say with chopped breath. I don't care how I sound, all I want is to get him to finish what he has started.
"I hope you know what you’re asking for."
"I fully expect you to show me," I whisper, already feeling braver than I’d have imagined.
"Or you could tell me what you want. I want you to describe it for me in detail."
I swallowed hard. This was it. I was either going through with this or chickening out. Somehow, my nerves settled and desire began to build up inside me. I wanted this. I wanted him, whoever he was. I wanted to feel him inside me, to know what it meant to be driven to ecstasy.
"I want you to—" I begin, but suddenly, I feel stupid for telling him.
"Say it," he urges, kissing my neck softly and working his way to my ear where he whispered again. "Tell me what you want."
"I want… you," I manage to gasp as his tongue flicked my earlobe.
"That’s not good enough. What do you want me to do? You can tell me. It’ll be our secret," he crooned quietly.
"I… I want you to…" I start again, but I have to force myself to utter the next word, a word I’d probably mumbled twice in my entire life. "…fuck me."
