“On what?” I ask.
“On you—and your talents. There’s nothing I hate more than a guy who only knows how to pound a woman without first applying a little finesse. I love a good pounding, don’t get me wrong, but a guy’s got to have a scalpel in his tool chest in addition to his hammer.”
“Oh, I’ve got both in my tool chest, I assure you—and I know exactly how and when to use them both.”
She leans forward and subtly widens her thighs. “Prove it.”
My cock jolts. “Right here and now?”
She nods, smiling wickedly.
Jesus Christ. Who is this woman? “It would be my pleasure, Samantha. Oh, and by the way?” I wink. “It’s there.”
She flashes me a wicked smile. “Glad to hear it. Let’s see if you know how to use a scalpel. If so, then we’ll move on to your hammer.”
“Challenge accepted.” I scoot my stool right up against hers, grab a menu off the bar, and place it over her lap—and then I slowly slide my hand up her smooth thighs, under the hem of her mini-dress, straight toward her undies...”One of my favorite things in the world is...” I stop talking. I was expecting to feel the cotton crotch of her underwear, but all I’m feeling is the sensation of bare flesh underneath my fingertips.
Oh, God, she’s a fucking goddess.
She widens her legs and tilts her naked pelvis into my fingers, inviting me to finger-fuck her. “You were saying, Ulysses?” she breathes. She widens her legs again. “I’m wide open—all ears.”
My cock is rock hard. I’m out of my mind—so turned on, I can barely breathe.
I clear my throat and slide my fingers inside her while pressing the pad of my thumb against her clit. “I was saying,” I whisper, my fingers stroking her, “that one of my favorite things in the world is getting a woman off—in lots of different ways.”
Her breathing hitches subtly. “Is that what turns you on the most?” she whispers.
Before I can answer, the bartender places our drinks in front of us on the bar, his jaw clenched.
“Anything else I can get you two?”
I stroke her swollen clit with more fervor. “Nope. I think we’re good.” I look at Tessa. “Anything else you need at the moment, sweetheart?”
Tessa shakes her head. “Nope. I’m good.” A subtle moan escapes her throat. “Really, really good.”
“Thanks,” I say to the bartender, my fingers lodged firmly up Tessa’s pussy, my thumb sliding up and down her swollen clit, and he stalks away, his eyes unmistakably raging with jealousy.
Oh, God, she’s so fucking wet. Thank God there’s overhead music pumping throughout the bar, or the whole world would hear the subtle sloshing sounds her pussy’s beginning to make as I work her.
“You asked me what gets me off most?” I whisper.
She moans softly. “Oh, God...Oh.”
“Touching your wet, swollen pussy when another guy is looking at you, wanting to fuck you—that’s high on the list.”
I stroke her with increased fervor. “Touching your wet tip—feeling how swollen it is—how hard it is.” I lick my lips. “Thinking about getting you alone so I can lick it and suck it ’til you’re speaking in tongues.”
“Oh.” She gasps.
“Thinking about spanking your round ass ’til it’s bright pink—and how you’re gonna come for me when I do.”
“Oh, God.” Her face contorts sharply like she’s in severe pain, and a half-second later, pure ecstasy washes over her features and the flesh enveloping my hand begins squeezing and clenching rhythmically.
When she’s done climaxing, I pull my fingers out of her, tug her mini-dress neatly down, place the menu back on the bar, and begin slowly licking every bit of her sweetness off my fingers, my eyes fixed on hers. “Was that enough ‘finesse’ for you, Samantha?” I ask politely.
She takes a long gulp of her drink, puts down her glass, and smiles wickedly. “You still hard, Ulysses?” she whispers.
“Rock hard.”
