"These are deep, cold-water oysters," Ethan says after the waiter walks away. "They're saltier than the other varieties. Eating one of these is like being slapped by an ocean wave."
"Hmm … a salty slap. I like the sound of that," I wink.
I reach over and grab a wedge of lemon and squeeze it on top of one. I watch as the oyster seems to shiver and recoil under the acidity.
"I think it just moved," I say.
"It should. The best way to eat an oyster is to eat a live one. Don't settle for anything less."
"I never knew you were such an authority on this subject."
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," he grins. He reaches over to touch my arm. I let him for a moment, but pull away. I can see the confusion on his face.
But I know I need to gain his trust, so I grab another oyster, squeeze lemon on it and bring it to my lips.
I tilt my head back, exposing my neck to Ethan, and I part my lips just enough to take the oyster in and allow it to slide down my throat. He watches me, never lifting his gaze.
I smile and grab his hand. Placing one of his fingers between my lips, I suck on it. "I don't know what's tastier, you or this oyster," I purr.
"I like that sound of that," he smiles. He reaches up to stroke my cheek, but again, I pull away.
This game of back and forth is driving him crazy.
By the time our waiter brings out the final course-a decadent serving of chocolate lava cake, I've already been teasing Ethan for the entire night. In one sense, I feel bad. I honestly do.
I find myself feeling wildly excited by his advances; I'm like those oysters every time he responds with my skin rippling in anticipation. I want his touch so bad. I crave his touch. But this is supposed to be a job. I have to keep that in perspective.
But if this is just a job, why am I feeling this way? Why am I desiring his touch? Normally, I do my job. I seduce men. I follow through, and that's it. I don't feel anything inside. But this is so different. My mind is reeling.
I push my spoon into the crust of the dark chocolate cake. The warm, gooey liquid leaks over the spoon, and I bring it to my mouth, extending my tongue and carefully licking off every warm drop.
Ethan is entranced.
"I didn't realize how hungry you were," he says with a grin.
"This is just the beginning," I purr. "My hunger goes beyond the food on this table."
When the meal is finished, I bring my hand softly on top of his. "Thank you, that was one of the best meals I've ever had," I say.
"There's a lot more where that came from," he smiles. "I can show you a good meal at my apartment-maybe satisfy your real hunger?"
His leg is pressed up against mine, and he has his hand on my arm. I know where he's going with this, but I can't. I can't go back to his apartment. Do I want to?
Yes, of course! My body is practically screaming out for him. But I really can't. Because if I go back to his apartment, you know what's going to happen, don't you? And I can't sleep with him. Not tonight. That's definitely not part of the formula for this evening.
"Not tonight," I say, pulling my arm back. "I can't."
He looks frustrated. There's something in his eyes that says he's not going to give up that easily. He's not going to take no for an answer. He stands up from the table and clears his throat.
"Everyone, can I have your attention?" his voice booms across the private dining room. The wait staff all stop and stare at him.
He now has a captive audience and he continues, "I need everyone to leave."
There are some low murmurs as people decide if he's serious. When he doesn't sit back down, and instead looks across the room to ensure people are following orders, they begin to file out-waiters, bussers, and other diners.
When the last person leaves, the room is silent and Ethan looks at me.
"What is it that you just said?" he asks me.
I don't immediately respond and he continues.
"Did you say you can't? Because it looks to me like you can."
99
Brittney
It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He wasn't supposed to have me … Not yet, at least. But as he stands up and orders everyone to leave the room, I know I'm done for. And even though I know I should stop it, I simply can't do it. I want this, and I want it very bad.
"This is it," he tells me as he walks around the table. He stops right in front of me, fire in his eyes. I can almost see the flames of desire dancing there, tall and fierce and all consuming. Raising one arm, he brushes the back of his hand on my cheeks, and my heart starts to drum wildly as I feel his touch on me. "You know what happens now, don't you?"
I say nothing and simply nod, adrenaline raging through my veins. I have a pretty good idea about what's going to happen now, and I can't wait for it.
"Say it," he orders me, his voice barely a whisper. I run my tongue over my lips, trying to look for the words inside my mind. God, I can barely think straight right now.
"You're going to fuck me," I finally manage to say, and a pleased smile dawns on his lips.
"That's right, Brittney, I'm going to fuck you … And I'm going to fuck you very hard," he whispers, tangling his fingers in my hair and forcing my head back. I gasp as I feel the pressure of his fingers, a pleasant warmness under my skin. I'm already wet, my pussy aching to feel him; since that first moment when I put on that little show for him, during the audition, I've been wanting more of him. I mean, with a cock like that, how could I not want more?
Leaning in, he presses his mouth against the soft skin on my neck and I tremble, a shiver going up my spine as I feel his lips. Then, letting go of my hair, he runs his fingers down to my shoulders and grabs at the halter of my dress; he pulls on the silver clasp, sending it down. The fabric droops over my chest and it falls to my waist, my chest rising and falling faster as I start breathing harder.
I can't help but notice the subtle smile on his face as his eyes go straight to my breasts. Acting on his desires, he takes his hands to my back and pulls at the clasp on my bra. Still unable to move, I simply let anticipation float around inside my head as he pushes the bra down my arms, baring my breasts.
"You're a really beautiful woman," he says, his hands going to my breasts. Cupping them both at the same time, he squeezes gently, the warmness of his fingers spreading to my skin. "Ever since your little dance at the audition, I've wanted you," he continues, his voice steady but filled with a tense eagerness.
"I'm here now," I mutter, aching to feel his lips on mine. Even though desire is burning deep inside of me, I still find myself frozen in place; there's a certain hardness in his eyes, one that tells me that he's the one in charge. I've been with dominant and powerful men, but I've never met anyone that could convey all his power and dominance with just one look. Until now, that is.
"Yes, you are … And there's no going back from this." Just like that, he leans into me and crushes his mouth against mine. I surrender to his kiss and part my lips, sliding my tongue inside his mouth almost at once. Our tongues dance around one another, and he place his hands on my waist, pulling me into him. I go willingly, pressing my body against his as the wetness between my thighs continues to grow at an out of control pace.
Acting on impulse, I take my hand to between his legs and press it against his crotch. I start to kiss him wildly as I feel his desire pulsing against my fingers, his hard cock straining against his pants. I curl my fingers around his thick shape, grabbing him firmly, and that sets something off inside of him.
He pushes me back, and the moment my back touches the wall, he digs his fingers into my thighs and forces me to turn around. I gasp as I turn, placing both my hands on the wall at shoulder height. Moving fast, he slides one hand around my waist and presses his long fingers against my pussy, bunching up the front of my dress. I exhale sharply as I feel the pressure, a warm sweetness coating my nerve endings as I jut my ass back and press it against his crotch. His cock between my ass cheeks, I start to grind against him, stroking him over the fabric of our clothes using just my ass.
"Not an ounce of patience in you," he tells me, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks. He presses harder on my pussy, a violent electric thunder climbing up my spine, and I let out a subtle moan. I start to grind against him as if there is no humanity left inside of me; right now, I'm a feral animal guided by base instincts. And I just love it.
"Oh, God," I find myself saying as Ethan flicks my thong to the side. Wasting no time, he runs one fingertip over my drenched folds and then stops on my clit, applying a maddening pressure there. "God," I repeat, unable to find anything else to say. Electric sparks go from my clit to all my muscles, and then make their way toward my head, silencing whatever thoughts still float inside of it.