So. Long(87)

She leaves the table, and Shayna follows. I can only imagine how that conversation is going to go. I chuckle.

Bax leans toward me from his side of the booth, his flatware in-hand, ready to cut his prime rib. He points at me with the business end of his steak knife. “You, my friend, are a sick fuck. Ballsy. Reminds me of—well, me.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re a couple of twisted fuckers, aren’t we?”

He holds his whiskey and soda up in salute.

I tip my glass against his. “To the women who warm our beds—”

He chimes in with me, “—and suck our cocks.”

The girls return, each with determined looks on their faces. Wonder what that’s all about?

I cut into my porter house, and we get down to the business of eating. Every time Ronnie puts her fork into her mouth, I imagine it’s my dick she’s wrapping those puffy lips around. This thought keeps me hard through the entire meal.

This is new. I mean, women have always turned me on, but I’ve never had quite this much of a fantasy life about one I only met a few days ago. But damn, this woman is as fuckable as they come—full breasts, flawless skin just waiting to be tasted, and an ass that makes me want to take her from behind and pound that pussy until we both come, sweating and screaming. I’ve got to tap that ass so I can move on.

I slip my finger under the elastic of her panties. My cock goes granite hard. No curls, nothing but smooth skin all the way to that honeyed little bead.

My hard-on is about ready to burst out of my slacks. I take Ronnie’s hand and guide it to the ridge in my pants. She hesitates, but then her fingers dance over my raging erection.

Oh, yeah. She’s enjoying the shit out of this.

Dirty girl.





Good Lord. What does he have in there? A freaking fire hose?

As well hung as a mule? He just might be.

My heart loses its rhythm when Jackson presses on my clit and his finger pushes down between my lips, dipping into my entrance. I let out a tiny sound.

Shay tosses me a glare. I smile, trying to play off like I don’t have the prince of late night’s finger swimming in my drenched pussy, two feet from her, hidden only by a tabletop and a very thin cloth.

As his finger moves in and out, I part my legs to give him better access.

This is so wrong. I don’t even like this guy, but—the way—he—oh, God—makes me—I bite my bottom lip to keep from making that sound again. I want to hop up on the table and let him lick it. Suck it. Fuck it.

I check around the room. Does anyone else know what’s going on?

Well, besides our table partners. Because after that filleting I received in the ladies’ room, I have no doubt that it’s more than obvious to them.

If they know, too bad. Tell me I’m a goody two-shoes. I’m not. This proves it. I break rules. I’m breaking a big one right now. No one knows. Well—I do. Jackson does. Shay does.

Screw Shay. If she wanted to, she’d lie on the table, hike her skirt, and let someone eat her for dessert and think nothing of it. So what if I’m the one to have a little fun for once? I can break any rule I want.

I lick my lips and open my legs more as I pop open the snap at his fly. His dick springs free. Commando. Why did that always seem gross until Jackson? Because his cock is huge? Because I really want him naked, so no underwear works for that plan? Maybe a bit of both.

I take his silky shaft in my hand, sliding my fingers to its head. My thumb finds the drop of pre-cum on the end of his massive cock. I smear the soft liquid over the head of his erection, and it jumps under my fingers.

The waiter stops. “Is everything all right here?”

Jackson looks to me, eyebrow raised, his finger swirling up from my depths to circle my clit. “You all right, Ronnie? You have everything you need?”

I swallow hard, my cheeks heating. “I’m good for now. I might need something further in a little bit. Thanks. How about you, Jackson?”

He loosens his tie even more. “For the moment, I’m all right. But I agree. Later, I’ll definitely need something extra.”

The waiter nods. “Yes, sir. I’ll check back in a short while then.”

Shayna scoots down in the booth a tad. “You two, really?”

Baxter looks at her, surprise on his face, but then he grins and nods in our direction. “Y’all go right on ahead. Not bothering me a damn bit.”

My cheeks burn, but Baxter’s encouragement seems to fire up Jackson in a different way. His cock hardens in my grip as I slide my fingers up and down. He increases his pace at my slit.

The pressure in my pussy builds with each swipe of his finger over my bud. I bite my bottom lip as I try to fight the urge to buck against Jack’s hand. Instead, I throw my leg over his, making more room for him to move.