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"Such a good girl," he praised, his breath hot against my inner thigh. "Wearing this sinful dress for me, showing off these delicious legs."
His praise sent a rush of heat through me, my core clenching in anticipation. Slowly, Nash began to run his tongue along the length of my pussy, licking and teasing me in the most maddening way. I squirmed against the leather seat, desperate for more friction, more contact, but he held my hips firmly in place.
"Be still, my Little Shadow," he commanded, his voice a dangerous caress. "You'll take what I give you."
A whimper escaped my lips as his tongue flicked over my clit, once, twice, before withdrawing completely. I strained against his grip, my arousal growing unbearable. But Nash only laughed, clearly enjoying my desperation.
Without warning, his mouth descended on me again, this time ravenous and demanding. He ate me out violently, his tongue thrusting inside me as his lips locked around my clit, sucking relentlessly. The onslaught was merciless, pleasure crashing through me in waves as I climbed recklessly toward release.
"Please, please," I begged, no longer caring how needy I sounded. His only response was to drive two long fingers inside me, crooking them expertly as his tongue continued its delicious torture. The dual sensations pushed me over the edge and I came hard, crying out as my inner walls contracted around his fingers, coating them with slick evidence of my climax.
Nash drank me in, prolonging my orgasm until I was spent and trembling. As I caught my breath, body still humming, he withdrew his fingers and slowly licked them clean. The glint in his hooded eyes brimmed with dark promise. Our games were only just beginning.
In this moment, there was no art to heal emotional wounds, no blog to hide behind—just raw, unfiltered ecstasy.
"Good girl," he murmured again, his words coated with the evidence of my undoing. He looked up at me, brown eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction and something more tender, something I dared not name.
"Ready for dinner?" he asked, his voice husky with the remnants of our illicit appetizer.
"Only if you are," I managed, still panting, feeling every bit the captured prey in the presence of a very satisfied predator.
"Did you think we were finished?" Nash's voice was a low growl, his fingers cold yet gentle as they slid something smooth and metallic inside me. I look down to see the sleek handheld vibrator disappearing into my pussy. My mind reeled at the audacity.
"Wha—?"
"Shh," he silenced me with a finger to my lips, his other hand brandishing his phone like a magician revealing his trick. "I control it. And your task, should you choose to accept it," he smirked, eyes alight with mischief, "is not to cum until after dinner. Think you can handle it?"
I was blindsided by the challenge, my body still humming from the high of release. But there was a fire in his eyes that ignited something inside me—a blend of shock and a thrill so potent it could have been bottled and sold. "Challenge accepted," I muttered, even though I was already doubting my chances.
"Brave girl," he said, as he helped me adjust my dress, ensuring no sign of our secret game was visible to the outside world.
The air of the restaurant was thick with the aroma of rich Italian cuisine, a contrast to the cool night outside. We were seated in a secluded corner, perfect for privacy, but not isolated enough to escape the glances thrown Nash's way. The women there were beautiful, their gazes hungry, yet he remained unfazed, eyes only on me. It was flattering and infuriating all at once.
"Are you enjoying the view?" I teased, both annoyed and amused as another woman's stare lingered a little too long on him.
"Immensely," he replied, but the heat of his gaze singed my skin, leaving no doubt that his interest lie solely at our table.
"Stop," I said through gritted teeth as the vibrator suddenly hummed to life. The sensation was unexpected, a delicious torment. My hand gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white.
"Stop what?" His innocence was feigned, a devilish curve to his lips.
"Playing innocent. You know exactly what you're doing." My words were a whisper, a rebellious hiss meant only for him.
"Guilty. But tell me, Celeste," he leaned in, his breath caressing my ear, "are you not entertained?"
I wanted to scream yes, to let go, but I bit down on my lip instead, tasting blood. I would not give him the satisfaction. Not yet. This was a game of cat and mouse, and I was no one's prey. At least, that's the lie I told myself as my body betrayed me, responding to his every intrusion.
The night progressed, a blur of soft jazz and even softer moans, muffled by my determination to not give in. Nash was an mystery, charming yet sinister, tender yet wicked. The more I tried to unravel him, the more I was entangled in his web. It was a dance I was losing at. By dessert, I couldn't take it any longer. "Enough," I panted, pushing my plate away. "I concede."
"Really now?" he purred, eyeing me with a victorious glint in his gaze. "And here I thought you were enjoying yourself." He signaled the waiter for the check, as if our little game was over before it even began.
"Don't be so smug," I muttered, chin high despite the flush that crept up my neck, staining my cheeks crimson. "I... I need some air."
The clatter of silverware and the murmur of conversations faded into the background as Nash guided me, his hand pressed firmly on the small of my back, through the maze of tables. The tension that had been coiling within me throughout the dinner was clawing its way to the surface with every step I took.
"Almost there," Nash's voice was a low growl in my ear. His breath sent shivers skittering down my spine, and for a fleeting moment, I wondered if I'd underestimated the depth of my own desires.
We slipped unnoticed into the janitor's closet, the dim light barely enough to chase away the shadows. It smelled of bleach and lemon—sterile, different from the carnal hunger that filled the cramped space between us.
