She’s red in the face. By the time Brady makes it to the restaurant, she’s gonna become like tomato sauce over my sausage. I’d like to dip my sausage into her sauce. Sometimes, my brain conjures up the oddest things. I hope the restaurant isn’t too far away so I’m not time wasting. I hope it is far so I get to watch her longer.
I rest my arms on the back of the seat; this way, I’m least tempted to touch her or jerk off. “Show me your breasts.”
Vanessa’s gaze is on the floor. She’d rather not look at me. A shy virgin for sure, and her cuteness makes me want to stuff her full of my cock. “Tell me, how does a virgin in her midtwenties even exist in Chicago?” A unicorn. I love unicorns. They fart rainbows.
Long dark eyelashes lift, and she peeks up at me from beneath her bangs. “If I tell you, you’ll think it’s stupid.”
“Unlikely.” After all, I was just thinking about my sausage and her tomato sauce.
“Since I didn’t do it in high school, then later in my early twenties, I decided to save it for my husband.”
“You desire a marriage before sex, then?”
“At least an engagement, some sort of a promise. But not anymore. Circumstances turned, and, well, the hymen went up for sale.”
“You don’t have to change your desire when your circumstances change.” With few exceptions, when I want something, I demand it regardless of circumstances. Her demands of engagement wouldn’t be unreasonable. After all, I demand seven likes. The difference between me and her is that she’s like most people who never ask for things they want. If she simply asked, my answer would surprise her, maybe thrill her. If she becomes mine, I will teach her how to ask for what she wants, and how to deal with rejection as well. A lady of mine shall be a queen married to the king, and my time on earth is king.
Instead of asking for what she wants, demanding I give her a ring before taking her virginity, she frowns. I remove my tie and blindfold her with it. Sitting down next to her, I peck her cheek, although I want to lick it. I bet she tastes like fine wine from Chateau Bleu, where I once spent a pleasurable evening.
I brought back a bottle, but I haven’t opened it yet, even though when I returned to the States, I called up the owner and started importing the fine beverage to the US, tariffs and taxes be damned. It’s the least profitable of my businesses, but having fine wine on my tongue is worth it.
Having fine sweet virgin blood on my tongue will definitely be worth it, even though she’s still at only five likes.
I lace our fingers together and guide her hand between her legs. We stroke her warm wet folds. “There,” I whisper. “Like that.” Her lips part, and tiny moans escape. I unlace our fingers and bring one to my mouth. “Mmmm. You taste delicious.” I roll her nipple. With the size of her breasts, I’m not surprised to feel large nipples. Jesus. I love her tits, but restrain from groping her like an animal.
I pluck a nipple and tweak it between my fingertips. Her chest moves up and down, and she rubs herself faster, and I know she’s about to get off. I keep rolling the nipple. One, then the other, my breath on her ear. “Do you know what I do with things that taste delicious on my tongue?”
When she doesn’t answer, I trail my fingers over her collarbone and close my hand over her throat. I don’t squeeze. Yet. It’s too early for that. So many delicious things to do with the virgin. Not enough time to do them all tonight. “I buy expensive things that taste good on my tongue. Those are keepers. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Between breaths, she says, “You bought my hymen.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know about that. I think I bought a virgin. A package deal.” When she stops stroking herself, I use my fingers on her. Once, twice, and she comes, a breath she held leaving her lungs in a whoosh. Her head falls back, her legs drop to the floor, and she sits there spent and breathless.
“Good girl,” I praise her and pull down the tie so it loops over her neck. Blue eyes lock with mine, then dart to my lips.
She wants me to kiss her, coddle her, pet her, and so I withhold. Anticipation is the name of this game. Every kinky mofo knows anticipation is everything. “I’m taking you home,” I say.
Her eyes widen. She opens her mouth, then snaps it closed, unsure what to say.
“Where do you live?” I ask.
She grips the hem of my suit, chuckling. “I’m not telling you where I live.”
“Then I’m taking you to my home. Be warned, purchased items that I take home, I keep.”
Vanessa swallows.
I move back across in my usual seat so she’s not feeling trapped, though I’m definitely trapping her. I reach into thecompartment and pull out the business card for the fashion office and hand it to her. “Now you know where to find me, and lots of innocents like you saw me with you tonight, so I’d be pretty stupid to hurt you since I have no alibi. Think about it.”
She’s reading my card for what feels like an hour. I grit my teeth, check my watch.
“Do you have some place to be?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“At this time of night?”
“Yes.”
