“But you don't know.”
“Take your panties off.”
I took a deep breath, and then said, “I'm not finished my coffee yet.”
He raised his voice, just a little. “Now. Not later. Now.”
I dropped the coffee cup against the platter.
Changing tone to be sweet again, he said, “Good girl. I bet you're all wet for me, aren't you?”
I stood and rolled up my pencil skirt, then rolled down my panties.
Even as I did, the voice in my head screamed at me, No! Don't! Don't give up all the power. You have the upper hand here!
But I didn't want to have the upper hand. I wanted to have him—have him deep inside me. My pulse throbbed in my clit, which had forgotten all about the orgasm I'd just had an hour earlier. My vagina ached, ached as though I hadn't had any pleasure in weeks.
With my panties off, I pushed my skirt back down and shuffled over to stand at the edge of the table. My legs trembled.
I asked, “Shoes on?”
“How tall are you?”
“Five foot eight.”
“Shoes on.”
I heard a belt buckle, and then a zipper running down.
The room was still pitch black, as it had been the entire time, only now it wasn't pleasantly black. Now it was sinister black. Scary black. I felt exposed.
“Lift up your skirt,” he said.
I considered refusing.
“Now,” he said.
I shimmied it up, crumpling it around my waist, exposing my butt to the air.
He put his hand on my bare lower back and pushed me. “Bend over. Over the table.”
I leaned forward, gripping the sides of the table with my hands. I nudged a few of the taller dishes, the wine glasses, out of the way.
“You smell delicious,” he said, one hand still on my lower back, but no other part touching me. His voice seemed to come from all around me in the tiny, dark room. “I could eat you up.”
Feeling brave, I said, “Dessert?”
The hand that had been on my lower back traveled down, over my bare ass. He stroked my butt cheeks gently, his hand moving around each cheek, caressing it. I moaned with pleasure, because it felt so good, especially after sitting on that hard chair, to have him touching me again.
The one hand was joined by another, calmly caressing and massaging. The hands ran down my center line and found my soft lips. A finger parted them and dragged my moisture all the way up my center line.
His voice startled me when he spoke, saying, “Lexie, do you want me to fuck you in the pussy, or in the ass.”
“Not the ass,” I said.
“The pussy. Picky girl.”
“Yes, please. Yes, please, sir.”
A finger trailed up and down my slit, so slowly. I pushed back against the finger, but it pulled away.
“I'm going to fuck you right where you want it,” he said.
“Okay.”
The finger on my slit was joined by the head of his cock, nudging in. I ached for it, ached for more, for all of its length.
His hands moved around to my hips, to the outer edges. His fingers sunk in, deep into my flesh. Hard.
Holding my hips steady, he plunged into me in one forceful slap.
I gasped in surprise.
Gripping my hips so tightly with his hands that it was almost painful, he rammed into me, harder, and harder, and then harder again.
My eyes opened wide and I gasped for air. I'd never felt anything like it.
Underneath my chest, the table rattled, and dishes crashed to the floor.
He rammed me, harder and harder, until I thought I might burst from pleasure, explode from such fullness and force and so much desire.
The dishes crashed some more, and my half-full coffee spilled on the table, soaking the front of my blouse and my breasts, but I was only peripherally aware of this, because the whole world disappeared, and I was just the tight little pussy, wrapped around his desire, wrapped around his cock.
He thrust into my eager hole from behind, slamming the muscles of his abs plus his hip bones against my ass, our bodies slapping, the speed increasing.
I grabbed the edge of the table and started to pant, my second orgasm of the night building.
It was a strong one, coming from deep within, from deep penetration.
His cock was stiff, and big, and pulsating with power. Despite the shock of his sudden movements, my pleasure rose up like heat waves.
He released his hands from my hips and grabbed me by the shoulders. He shoved me down against the table, and then he proceeded to fuck me even harder.
Now the table was banging against the wall, and I worried about the waitstaff walking in, and then I laughed out loud.
He grunted, “What?”
“Just that if someone walked in right now, they wouldn't see anything, and—”
He cut me off with, “No talking.”
I shut my mouth, closed my eyes, and succumbed to the sensations. Maybe it was the darkness, or maybe I'd been lulled by the pleasant conversation, but things had taken a strange turn. I can't say I didn't like getting it hard like this. He grunted like an animal, and it made me feel like a cavewoman or something.