“Aye, I think I can manage that.”
My cock throbs when she mocks my accent. God, the lass has no idea what effect she has on me.
“But I want both of us to go to dinner satisfied,” she adds. “How about a little mutual masturbation?” Her eyebrow rises as her hand dips beneath her dress again.
I rub the front of my pants. Her offer is very tempting...
“Okay, but we have to have our backs together,” I say. That way, there’s no risk of her seeing the piercing. “And we have to be quick. If Chef Maurice catches us doing this, we’ll never hear the end of it. We would be the ‘it’s a long story’ at the next retreat.”
Quinn is already spinning around on the table. “Say less. I can come in thirty seconds flat with the right motivation. Just don’t be shy with the dirty talk.”
Shit, dirty talk? I’ve never done that. Most women hear me speak fewer than ten words from the time we initiate sex to the moment I give them the brush off. Now she wants me to talk during? I don’t think I can.
I place my back against hers and begin undoing my pants. Thank god I’ve been reading that smutty book. Maybe I can use some of that in my favor.
“I can’t be the only one talking dirty,” I say. My cock springs free, and panic ratchets my spine straighter as the overhead lights gleam on the metal ball. “Tell me what you’re doing to that perfect little pussy.”
“Mmm, fuck yes,” she whispers. Her back moves against mine, followed by the sweet sounds of a woman running her fingers through a very wet slit. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”
I fist my cock and start stroking. Talking is already difficult, but talking while I’m flogging myself seems damn near impossible. Still, it’s what the girl wants.
“I’d have spent longer between your bonnie thighs, for one,” I say. “You taste like heaven, Quinn. I want to know if it’s just as sweet when you come.”
She writhes against my back. Little whimpers ease out of her, encouraging me to keep going.
Closing my eyes, I jerk myself harder and faster. Pre-cum provides a little lube as I envision what it would be like to have my mouth pressed against her when she comes. I’d swallow every drop and still want more.
“Once I’ve made you come, I’d be more selfish with you,” I continue. “Would you let me use that pussy, lass? Would you let me fuck you until I was satisfied?”
“Fuck, I’m coming,” she whimpers, and that’s all the answer I need.
She shudders against me, and all the little sounds and motions push me over the edge. I look around, frantic to find a towel or rag or something to deposit my nut into, but four plates of chicken curry look up at me. Come spurts out of my cock at high pressure and lands on the plate in front. I grip the edge of the table as more pours out of me, right on top of the orange sauce.
“Shit,” I mutter.
Quinn slides off the table in a rustle of fabric behind me, and I scramble to shove my softening dick into my pants.
“Well, that was certainly—” She freezes when she sees the glob of semen. Her eyes widen. “Jesus Christ, dude. I don’t think you’ll ever be able to come down my throat. I’ll fucking drown.”
“Ach, it’s a normal amount.” I pick up the plate and move toward the trash can.
Quinn grabs my arm, stopping me from dumping the meal into the bin. “First, that is not a normal amount. That is enough to choke a fucking mule. Second, why are you throwing it out?”
I hold the plate toward her. “Did you want to eat it?”
“Um, no. But maybe we should pay Desmond back for his little gift in my dinner the other night.”
I lower the plate to the prep table. “Lass, I like the way you think.”
We mix the giant glob of jizz into the sauce, then set a sprig of parsley on top so that we can tell the Cum Curry apart from the others. Wouldn’t want the girl to end up with the wrong dish, after all. Right as we’ve finished concealing our treacherous act, Chef Maurice rushes in.
“Why are you two still in here? We’re ready to begin service!” He hurries toward us with a flurry of waving hands. “Out, out,out!”
“Wait,” Quinn says. “Another guest has dietary restrictions. Can you make sure he gets this plate?”
We give him the details, and he agrees before pushing us into the dining hall. Everyone is already seated at their assigned places, so Quinn and I take our seats near Jim and the rest of our inner crew, both of us sharing secret smiles across the table. I’m pleased to see Desmond not far down. We’ll get to witness the debauchery up close and in person.
Now, we wait.
