“I needed something to catch your attention,” he said, holding my gaze.
“It worked. You caught my attention for five seconds, but I was rather occupied that night.” Twirling my hair, I gave a teasing smile. “So were you.”
“You’re one of a kind.” Alistair chuckled and relaxed his shoulders, his fixed gaze still holding me captive
“What do you mean?” I stared coyly at him.
“I’ll be upfront with you. I like you. I’d fuck your sweet pussy now if we weren’t in a restaurant. I’m not a man who uses fancy words like a deck of cards. I speak what I think, and I don’t beat around the bush.”
I gazed at Alistair’s dark brows, his moving lips, and his square, shaven jaw. Not bad at all. Do you know the feeling of attraction growing as familiarity rises? I felt it.
“What’s your fetish?” Alistair asked. He leaned over the table and placed one hand over mine. He was close enough for me to catch his masculine scent, a spicy cologne blended with a cinnamon note.
“There’s bondage, spanking, body rubbing, and dirty talk. Plus, there’s nothing sexier than an intelligent man.” I winked at my date. “What’s your fetish?”
“Sugar, I’d like you to deep throat my cock. Then I want to taste your pussy and fuck you all night.” Alistair’s eyes targeted mine, and his lips quivered into a sly smile. “Do you dress up?”
“What? Do you mean, role-play?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I prefer being naked and natural. However, I do dress in a schoolgirl’s uniform on special occasions. You’ll need to bring a whip or a belt, though.”
“I knew it,” Alistair exclaimed. He leaned back and tapped the table three times. Grinning, he shifted his seating position and placed one finger on my arm, teasing it with his sensual touch.
“Shall I call you ‘Daddy’?” I placed my hand on his and drew light circles on his wrist, enticing him with my soft touch.
“You can call me ‘Daddy’ any time.” He grinned, pupils blown wide with the kind of craving that took what it wanted. Heat surged up my chest, hot and invasive. My desire morphed into something raw, aching. I wanted to take him. Right here. Right now.
I covered his hand with mine, locking in the heat between us as he leaned in, closing the space. The moment nearly combusted, until the door behind us swung open, slicing through it all with a cold draft.
“Can I take your order?” Barnaby, the badged waiter, interrupted our dirty exchange, glancing at Alistair’s Rolex.
“I’ll have a Guinness pie and a pint of Guinness,” I said.
“I’ll have a steak, fries, and a cola,” Alistair ordered, playing with his watch again.
“Whoa, don’t you want something fancier?” I asked, surprised by Alistair’s order. Here I was, sitting across the table from a real-life billionaire who chose the plainest dish on the menu.
“If I wanted fancy,Vera,” he murmured, moving in closer to whisper, “I would have taken you to Arrivederci. But no, feisty Mona Lisa insisted we avoid the place.”
“Oh, I do like fancy, Mister Scott. I have whipped cream, sweet chocolate, and fresh strawberries at home,” I teased, batting my eyelashes to add drama. I wore a little more mascara to emphasize my eyes.
“I might take your offer. Or I might not.” He winked, licking the left corner of his upper lip. “Call me Alistair. Or Scotty. Or Daddy.”
Oh, that dirty, dirty smile.
“Mister Scott,” I purred, drawing out the ‘o’ as I dragged my tongue over cherry-red lips. “That’s how I like it. You’re trouble.”
He matched my energy, eyes glinting. “Miss Richland. Guilty as charged—I play dirty.”
He slid another fry onto my plate. I didn’t thank him. Just leaned in, took it straight from his fingers, let my lips drag across his skin. A slow bite with wide eye contact.
I eased off my stilettos. My toes found his ankle, then climbed, slow, deliberate, up his calf and thigh until I felt him straining beneath the fabric. His fork paused mid-air.
I took another bite of pie like nothing was happening.
He passed me the last piece of his steak. I paused. His gaze held mine steadier now, like he saw more than just the games.
