Page 7 of His Angel

JOHNNY

She is…perfect.

I had known it from the moment I’d laid eyes on her. I had sensed there was far more to the quiet young woman that turned down every man that came near her.

She might be the one I’ve waited on all my life.

That had been the thought that played around in the back of my head in quiet moments when I was supposed to be doing work for the club. It had played in my head when I was supposed to be sleeping at night, torturing me with dreams that could never come true. Yet, here I was, about to test her to see just how far she’d go.

My hand, warm nestled between her thighs, twitched as I thought about exactly what I wanted to do to her. Where I wanted to do it. And how.

A million different places, a billion different ways.

I’d spent the last eleven years forgetting my wife, now ex-wife, focusing on work, the club, and staying out of trouble. There’d been women in between, women that understood I wasn’t the relationship kind. That wanted nothing more than a night, or an hour, of my company without any strings attached. Married women that wanted a little excitement, lonely women that had their own reasons for not wanting relationships.

But none had been what I needed.

What I needed, what really, really got me off was an audience and a partner that wanted one too. I wanted an audience that wanted what I was having. Man or woman, it didn’t matter to me who watched, so long as they watched and knew all they could do was watch. There were opportunities at the club, private rooms hidden away in a warehouse down by the docks or the rooms behind the motorcycle club’s bar, where I could satisfy this need to be watched, to be…admired. I didn’t know exactly what that need was, and wasn’t the kind to poke at it too much. The need existed, and that was the end of it.

She made a noise, and I looked up. A man was sitting in a booth almost across from us. He’d have a very good view of what Tara was hiding under her skirt, if he cared to look. I grinned with amusement, despite how hard I was for her. Painfully hard was the best way I could describe it, but it didn’t matter. One way or another, Tara would ease that pain later.

“Do you want him to watch, Tara? Do you want him to look at you while I fuck you with my fingers?” The words were whispered against her head, not a bad place to be when I caught the scent of her hair. I loved how the smell of ripe peaches filled my head. She smelled of soap and peaches. A clean, innocent smell that was still…erotic.

I waited for her answer, my fingers gliding up slick thighs. I knew she was ready for my touch, that she had a whole fuckload of fantasies running through her mind, making her wetter than I’d ever thought a woman could be. Yet, she hadn’t answered my questions. My fingers would go no further until she answered me in some way.

“I think you want that very much, Tara. I heard the way your breath hitched when I asked you those questions. I can see…” I looked down at her tits, big enough to fill my palms with, and saw her nipples were like two pebbles in her top. She must have on a very thin bra.

So, innocent as she may sometimes seem, little Miss Tara was an exhibitionist. Or she wanted to be. No, I decided, after last night’s performance that had left me stunned and so aroused that I’d gone straight home to jerk off, she was definitely an exhibitionist.

“Oh, I can see how very hard your nipples are.” I breathed into her ear, fascinated with how she responded. She gasped when my hand came up and cupped her left breast, squeezing the nipple quickly to get the response she gave me.

A low moan, but no protest.

I pulled my hand away quickly before I glanced over at the man at the other table. He’d placed his order and was looking around.

The man was handsome enough, in that businessman sort of way, with a suit on that probably cost more than some people’s car. A suitable watcher for the girl that made me want to fuck her every second of the day.

“Would you let him watch me fuck you, Tara?” I asked her, just to give her more to think on. A tiny mewl of hunger escaped her throat, and I looked into her eyes at last. Raw, naked need shone back at me. She was so hungry it nearly took my breath away.

And there was nothing beneath her skirt to impede me doing exactly what I wanted to do.

My fingers nudged again, until she spread her thighs. My hand cupped her soaking mound, a finger gliding between her lips to open her up. My eyes moved, to the man across from us, the only person in the place that could see beneath the table. The man, in his late thirties to early forties, had his eyes glued beneath the table, watching my middle finger as it stroked Tara’s glistening skin. “Ah, he sees you, Tara. He sees your pussy spread open with my fingers on you.”

“Johnny,” she whispered my name, her hands coming up to grasp at my arm. I loved how she said my name.

“What do you want, Tara? This?” I dipped a finger into her and groaned quietly. She was so tight I had to wonder if she’d ever been touched there before. Her walls clutched at my finger, and her hips jerked when I withdrew. “Or do you want this?”

My finger moved up to her clit, pressing directly into it until she gasped into my shoulder. “I think that’s what you wanted, isn’t it Tara? What you needed?”

She nodded against my shoulder, not saying a word.

“He’s watching you. You know that don’t you? He wants to come over here and fuck you.” Even that had my head swimming, but I was the one doing the teasing at the moment. I had to maintain control until I got her where she wanted to go. “But, he can’t fuck you. Not while you’re mine. Nobody else can have you while you’re mine.”

I’d worded that very carefully, not making a promise, not wanting to scare her off. If she was what I thought she was, I would be more than happy to keep her in my life. But that was a question for later.

The man across from us moved around in his chair, obviously enjoying the show he was getting a little too much. But then, he had the full force of Tara’s pussy to look at. I could barely see anything with her skirt bunched around my hand. I wanted to taste her, wanted her to ride my tongue until she couldn’t stand it anymore, but Tommy would have his balls for that.

The owner of the pub was one of our runners, bringing product into the city with his vans every day, but he ran a legitimate business here. I knew I was pushing my luck doing this much, but as long as I kept most of it quiet, I would be alright. Well, as long as Tara kept it quiet, I thought with a silent chuckle.

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