I smiled knowingly at him. “Like what?”
He downshifted his volume. “Like taste you.”
I lowered my eyes, as if that small act would hide the way sparks flew inside me.
“Right here? At the museum?”
“Here. There. Anywhere. I think about tasting you all the time.”
“You do?” The sparks became fireworks, crackling and zinging.
“Sometimes when I’m in a meeting I have to force myself to focus because I’m thinking about burying my face between your legs.”
“I guess our minds are never really on the meetings.”
“I’ll sometimes imagine everyone else is gone, and I’m in a conference room just with you, and you’re in a chair. Maybe even the power chair. And you spin around. You’re wearing a tight white blouse and a short skirt and you call me over, and all you do is point to the edge of your skirt.”
“And what do you do then?”
“I get down on my knees and push up your skirt and go down on you.”
“I bet that makes it really hard to focus at meetings.”
“Incredibly hard.” I raised an eyebrow and followed his gaze to his pants. I wanted to press a hand against him.
“What if I put my computer bag on your lap right now as a shield? Would you touch yourself?”
“Right here? On the bench in the middle of the Impressionist Gallery?”
He nodded, and lifted his computer bag, holding it above my legs.
“Are you serious?”
“If you want me to be serious.”
I nodded my assent, and he laid his bag gently across my thighs. I glanced around. Museumgoers were preoccupied with still lifes and landscapes. I overheard snippets of conversations, but they were all static noise to me. All I could process were Bryan’s words, as he moved his mouth perilously close to my ear. “Pretend you’re reaching inside the bag, and instead slide your hand up your skirt.”
I’d like to say I was nervous or cautious, but the truth was I was a live wire and I craved only one thing right now — touch. So I followed his order.
“Are you touching yourself?”
I nodded. I was afraid if I spoke I’d cry out.
“Are you wet for me?”
Another nod.
“How much?”
“On a scale of one to ten?”
“Yes.”
“One hundred.”
He breathed out hard. “God, I want to taste you right now.”
I flipped through my mental rolodex of bathroom locations in the Met. “Basement level. There’s a two-stall bathroom off in a far corner.”
“Let’s go.”
I adjusted my skirt as he stood up. I handed him his computer bag and he positioned it strategically as we walked quickly past seascapes and portraits, then Egyptian relics and stone horses, until we reached the white marble stairwell at one end of the wing. I turned down the steps to the basement level, and he followed, and soon I found the quiet bathroom. I opened the door first, and peered around. It was empty.
“Coast is clear.” I pulled him inside, then into a stall. I shut the door and as I was sliding the lock in place, Bryan’s hands were in my hair, and his mouth was on my neck.
Then he moved to my lips. “This is what I’m going to do to you.” He pressed his lips on mine gently, and slid his tongue across them, licking once, twice, three times in a lingering and hungry way, simulating what he planned to do next. My knees wobbled. I was aching for him to touch me. I’d never been so turned on in my life, let alone in a fantasy. He dropped down to his knees, lifted my skirt, and pulled down my panties. Within seconds, his mouth was on me, and I gasped. “Bryan.”
Then I grabbed his hair, bringing him closer. I pressed my back against the wall, and gave in to the feeling of him tasting me for the first time. My god, he knew what to do with his tongue. He knew where I wanted him, and how to touch me in just the right way to send me spiraling. My hands dived into his hair as he explored me like a starving man, and I was the one thing that he needed. I’d never felt so desired; I’d never felt so wanted as when he placed his hands on the back of my thighs and brought me closer to his mouth. Then he made the sexiest sound, a breathy groan as he ran his tongue across me. It was enough to take me to the edge, knowing how turned on he was by doing this to me. I said his name as quietly as I could, but inside I was screaming out, feeling the sweet rhapsody across every square inch of my body, as if the world itself had been shattered into diamonds and starlight, brilliant and perfect as I stood there, awash in a dazzling sort of pleasure from the tips of my toes to the end of my hair.
He rose, and planted a gentle kiss on my neck.
“My turn,” I said, and he grinned in reply.