I can probably bring myself to do that—to masturbate in front of him—but it would certainly be for Dan’s pleasure rather than mine. Because I can’t imagine masturbation is any kind of pretty when alone and aiming for release. Unlike dirty movies, it was grunting, writhing, and frantic finger work.
But his evening would be different. It has to be. And I’m certain I can manage something a little prettier that the regular two-finger twist, but a porn star performance? And that’s where the wine comes in. I think I can do this and do it well if I’ve had enough to drink.
Damn me and my big talking mouth.
‘I like that you wore a dress.’ Leaning back in his chair, Dan’s gaze seems calculating, though not deceitful. It’s more as though he looks at me as if I’m something to solve.
I raise the glass to my mouth as I speak. ‘Actually, this is a skirt.’ I sip rather than explain the intricacies of the peplum and matching top.
He shrugs, not appearing to care; a kind ofwhatevermotion, catching me off guard as he asks, ‘Are you wearing stockings or tights?’
His voice is low and tempting, and I lean into him, placing my palm on his thigh under the table. ‘You could always find out for yourself.’
Moving closer, he presses soft lips against my cheek. His mouth hovers over my skin for a minute, his breath on my face as he whispers, ‘I think we’re back to the point where you’ve been watching too many dirty films. This isn’t the kind of establishment with dark corners and play rooms.’
Rather than a reprimand, his words create other things, my mind slipping to the places he’s alluded to. What were the kinds of spaces a man could slide his hand under a skirt without causing issue? How many of these did he frequent? Would he take me, too, if I asked?
We leave shortly afterwards, hailing a cab. Climbing into the back, I tremble with desire as I slide my hand to the inside of his thigh, my mouth seeking his. I’ll admit I’m a little put out as he grasps my fingers, refusing them passage to travel over him. He kisses my forehead, smiling when I whisper getting to second base in the back of a taxi seems like it could be fun. He doesn’t respond, but instead begins outlining, explicitly but quietly, what he’ll do to me when we get back to his house.
~*~
Dan’s hands reach for his belt before he’s even closed the front door. Half unfastened, he kisses me savagely, walking me backwards along the hall. At the base of the stairs, he slides his hand around my waist in his quest for the zipper of my skirt. I giggle, and he curses, so I hold my hands aloft, the only concession I offer him. His eyes shine with triumph as he finds it, pulling on it quickly in his haste. He yanks it down my thighs, wrapping his hands around me to lift me as he slides my legs around his waist. I might squeal a little as he buries his face between my breasts. It might turn into a moan as he bites.
As Dan climbs the stairs, our kisses are hot, wet, and unravelling. I’m so caught up in the moment, I don’t realise we’ve reached the bedroom until the door hits my back and it swings open. We stumble towards the bed, our need to be as close to the other overcoming all civility. Grasping and desperate, Dan growls, his fingers tight on my ass as he rubs me against his shaft as I arch my back to deepen the sensation.
‘I might not be able to make you behave, but I will make you beg,’ he rasps, almost throwing me to the mattress and slipping the jacket from his arms.
Anticipation balls in my gut, need fanning out and making my limbs weak. I want what he’s offering—know he’s more than capable of making me beg. He takes my foot in his palm, removing one shoe and then the other, his body an elegant arch as he places them neatly on the floor. It’s almost like a warning or a signal that he’s controlling this thing and in complete contrast to how he’d removed my skirt.
Hands at my side, he loosens the side zip of my top and we both work to peel me out of the tight-fitting garment. I’m left wearing nothing but my underwear; a black lacy bra and matching thong and lacy-topped hold-up stockings.
As he begins working his cufflinks loose along with the buttons of his shirt, I prop myself on my elbows and watch. Expectant. Excited. Definitely on the edge. His belt and buttons are already undone, his pants now riding low. I can’t seem to stop my gaze from flicking to that perfect bulge as Dan’s dark eyes watch me watching him. The cotton rustles as he pulls it from his arms, his abdominals flexing as he releases the tip of his cock from his loosened fly.
I lick my lips without thinking, and Dan smiles, the moment free of pretence.
‘You want this.’ It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway with a nod. ‘You remember your big talk?’ I crease my brow a fraction, not liking where this is going. ‘You can’t have my cock until you’ve made yourself come.’
That one sentence, one suggestion, causes my insides to pulse. Who said stuff like that outside of porn? Almost of their own volition, my hands begin trailing over my warm skin. Between the valley of my breasts, I pull my nipples into peaks over the lace. My sigh is natural, and not for him, as my fingers travel down over my hips and my whole body begins to writhe. Turned on by his dark expression and by the way he looks at me as I touch myself, I’m so desperate for relief as I hook my thumbs into the elastic of my panties.
‘Keep them on,’ his voice rumbles. ‘To the side, slide your fingers in.’
It isn’t the instruction or the tone that lights my nerve endings; it’s his direction. His dominion over me. I do as he says, running one finger against my warmth and dampness, whimpering as I dip it inside, rolling the slick digit across my clit. My eyes fall closed as I stroke once more, my limbs moving suddenly as though poked by hot pins. I find I don’t have to pretend as I caresses and touch—I can hear myself moaning and bite my lip to try to stem the flow of half-spoken words and moans. My legs begin to twitch, my hips lifting as the sensations build. Then as Dan moves over me, I remember why I’m doing this. His lashes lowered, his dark head rests against mine as though to feel my climax build. And he whispers encouragements, the sexiest of things.
He tells me how glorious I look.
How sweet smelling this all is.
How he’ll lick my fingers.
And when I’m done, he does.
On his knees between my parted legs, he pushes them wider, inhaling deeply as he adjusts my panties. Sliding a finger down my fabric-covered crease, I know he sees that the fabric is damp, but I can’t care. I’m just coming down—an aftershock twitching mess. He stands, pulls a condom from his back pocket, and slips it over his length once he’s stripped out of his clothes. I don’t know how the sight could be so erotic, but it is.
Returning his knees to the bed, Dan places the tip of his cock at my opening, sliding his hands under my ass to raise my hips. And, sliding the lace of my panties to the side, he teases me with the tip.
‘Please.’ If the word sounds desperate, it’s because that’s what I feel, the end of one climax tied so tightly to the next. I want it. Ineedit.
Without a word spoken, Dan lifts my ass higher, and with one smooth push, he slides inside. I shudder with delight and frustration, my body clenching in its instinctive embrace, but he doesn’t move again. Through my wordless appreciation, his fingers dig into my hip, urging me to repeat.
