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I'm not sure my heart will be able to handle what you consider exciting.
I guess this will have to tide me over since you won’t be coming in for a milking.
Good thing you sent it, I wouldn't want to go forgetting your face.
He laughed, enjoying this snappier side of her.A side of her you never would have met at the milking farm. Despite the physical torture, he knew he’d chosen the correct route.
I'm glad you enjoyed yourself today, he tapped out, stretching until his back popped.
We'll have to find a way to get into some of the other historic buildings so that you can poke around.
Her response came quickly, a cozy warm suffusing him.
I had a wonderful time.
The house was beautiful, but the company was the best part.
He'd cropped the photo she had sent him, keeping the attention on her face and her beguiling eyes, setting it above her name on his phone. He wondered if she would do the same with the photo he’d sent her.
I couldn't agree more.
Sweet dreams, sweetheart.
They had been out a handful more times since that afternoon, each day and evening spent in each other's company characterized by a growing heat, and if she didn't understand thathewas waiting forhersoon, he was going to snap.
There had been an incident with a drunken dragon not long ago rampaging down the end of Main Street, causing a burst fire hydrant and a subsequent water main break, and traffic had been routed around the square for a week as a result. Rourke didn't know the Dragonborn involved, but at the time, he would've been happy to give the draconian neighbor a piece of his mind. Still would, if the opportunity presented itself.
He had no desire to bethatneighbor, but if Violet did not take charge of things soon, he would be the one rampaging up Main Street, swinging his erection like a wrecking ball, smashing the scoop truck and their stingy sample rules, crashing through the windows at the Black Sheep Beanery, ejaculating a sticky lake of cum in front of Jack Hemming's office, and that would be that. He'd probably be strung up by his hooves at the gazebo, and every resident of Cambric Creek would be given a piece of produce to throw at him before he was run out of town.
There were many moving parts in a multi-species community like theirs, a dozen or so plates spinning in the air at all times to keep things harmonious, to keep neighbors getting along, and the engine of local commerce humming — the central point of which was traffic control. Fucking up the daily commute in a small town was the fastest way to earn the ire of your neighbors, and if Violet kept up this little hard to get routine, he would be a blight on the front page of the Town Tattler column.
Now here she was, snuggled up under his arm with no panties under her dress, expecting him to either behave like a gentleman or snap, and Rourke knew which was the more likely scenario.
Beneath the table, his cock twitched. Maybe tonight's the night, finally.There was only one way to find out.It would be better to wait, he told himself sternly. Wait until they were back in her apartment, or else, he thought with an impatient huff, wait until she was back in Cambric Creek, and he could take her home.But she’s sitting next to younow, she’s not wearing any pantiesnow.She’s not going to make the leap alone; she’s shown you that. You need to give her a nudge, and then remind her who’s in charge.His hand abruptly shifted to her inner thigh before he could give himself a chance to allow common sense to catch up with the blood racing south.
Her breath came out on a squeak when the pads of his fingers stroked against her soft skin. Back and forth he moved, slightly higher each time, until he met the resistance of her inner thighs. Violet seemed frozen, and her legs remained closed to him.False alarm.A red warning light flashed behind his eyes, an alarm that signified he needed to slow down before he ruined everything they’d built over the last handful of weeks.
Shewas the one who would initiate their first time, had to be the one. He was the client at the farm, the one who planned the majority of their outings and paid for everything, he was the one who was older and secure. She needed to assert her own agency somewhere. Time seemed to grind to a halt as his finger remained still, giving her time to decide. When her thighs, at long last, parted, Rourke felt his cock tug on his lungs as it inflated, squeezing blood from every ventricle it could find.
It seemed to him that she was barely breathing as he began to ghost his finger back and forth against the outer lips of her sex. He could smell her arousal, that same musky sweet smell that had invaded his nostrils during his milking sessions more than half a dozen times. It wasn't something they were piping into the vents at all.Stroking your cock made her wet, and it got her wet every week.He harrumphed silently, aggravated with himself.You should have been finishing your milking session every week by licking her pussy like a gentleman. Oh well, it's never too late to make up for lost time.
“Violet, do you remember what I told you about what you could expect when you’re with me?”
She whimpered when the tip of his finger pushed into her cleft, finding the slickness within. He wanted her to leave his face a dripping, sticky mess, wanted her coat his cock in her honey until it shone like a mirror ball. . .. But his fingers would have to do, for now. He bumped into the exposed bud of her clit with every stroke of his finger, hitting it quite intentionally, liking the way she jolted when he did so.
“You . . . you said my comfort was all that matters. That I . . . I hold all the cards.”
“Mhm, exactly. And what else?” He grinned against the top of her head when she opened her thighs a bit wider, giving him more access. Rourke glanced swiftly across the dining room.
The restaurant was sparsely populated, likely owing to the fact that this was a weekend hotspot, and it was the middle of the workweek, a fact that currently worked in their favor. There were only a handful of other patrons, and minimal staff. Still, he would be a liar if he pretended this didn't excite him wildly. He had an exhibitionist streak that did not dovetail well with his position as a CEO, and he was more committed to his career than his latent kinks . . . but that didn't make it go away altogether. He wanted to make her come, just like this, right here in the middle of dinner, where anyone could've looked over to see what they were doing.
“You said . . . you said you were going to spoil me.”
Her breath caught when he slid his full finger through her silky slick folds, coating itself.Moment of truth. Time to put all your cards on the table. He trapped her clit between the knuckles of two thick fingers, moving back and forth in a motion that stimulated the plump little cherry, watching the server across the dining room refilling wineglasses at the table of a human couple. He wondered if they would be able to tell, if they looked over. The lace embroidered linens completely covered what was happening beneath the table, but her expression, her tipped back head, eyes closed in bliss, her mouth hanging open . . .What else could possibly be happening?
“Did you think that meant I wasn’t going to spoil this pussy?” She whimpered against him, a sound that went straight up his cock like a bolt of electricity, and he wasn't sure if he was going to be able to keep himself from laying her out on the table and stuffing her full right then and there. He circled her clit, rubbing all around it, stimulating it from the sides, from the top of its sensitive hood, pleasuring the little bud from everywhere but directly on, and Violet thrashed against him in response. “You’re going to need to tell me what you want, Violet. What does this needy little cunt want from me?”
He could feel her moving beneath the table, her voice muffled against his sleeve mumblingplease. Her thigh jumped, her leg kicking out at nothing, her hips lifting to meet his hand, desperate for more.Please. He was more than happy to give it to her — but she needed to say so first. Rourke grinned down at her. He knew he was likely taking this too far and it would be far kinder to simply give her what she knew she needed, but he wanted to hear hersayit. Wanted to see the words take shape on her perfect little lips and chirp in her little bird voice, wanted to feel her pussy clench around him andknowthat he was giving her exactly what she had asked for. And if he was enjoying her pleading whimpers, well . . . he supposed hewasa bit of a bastard.
