“So cheers to champagne bottles that remain intact,” Ryan said.
“Cheers.”
“I’m holding my glass up.”
“Oh, haha!”
I carefully found my glass and waved it around in the general area over the table until I heard the musical clink, then took a sip. Next on the agenda was finding my knife and fork.
“My turn,” said Ryan, “speaking of Champagne bottles. Where did you learn to fight like that?”
“Oh, just self-defense classes and boxercise,” I said. “A long time ago something… um… happened to me and I promised it wouldn’t… it would not… happen again without a fight. I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“It’s OK.” Ryan was silent for a moment. “Well, I got one thing right that night.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re incredible.”
When Ryan said it, I couldn’t stop myself from believing him. I could feel the admiration in his voice, the same way I’d felt it in his body on the night we met. After suddenly getting a sinking feeling when reminded of that night ten years ago that set me on this career path, his words picked me right up again.
The food was delicious and, as the meal progressed, I felt myself relaxing, laughing and blushing. I almost lost it when we traded forkfuls of our meals for testing purposes, and I accidentally stuck a piece of chicken in honey-mustard sauce into his eye.
I hadn’t allowed myself much time to have fun in my life, but I recognized it when I felt it, and this was it. The way Ryan made me feel, even when I couldn’t see him, feel him or smell him over the food made the lines between Sarina Bell and Sarina Beckett all too easy to blur.
By the time we finished our mains and Ryan sent a non-lethal electrical charge so we could get our dessert, I was on top of the world. Ryan wasn’t finished with me yet, though.
Sarina
For a blind man, for any man, the pace that Andy worked at was phenomenal. Our plates and cutlery were cleared away and the dessert wheeled in in record time.
Unlike the mains, Ryan had pre-ordered the dessert when he made the reservations. If it was meant to be a surprise, the fruity aroma may have given the game away.
I inhaled deeply. “Mmmm, is that strawberries?”
“Yep. Don’t touch.”
In the darkness I heard Ryan stand up and bring his chair next to mine, and sit down again. Like in the club, his leg was now touching mine, and without the food separating us, I could smell his cologne mixing with the strawberries to form some kind of panty-melting cloud of aroma.
That is one sexy smell…
“Where are you?” Ryan asked as if he didn’t know.
His hand touched my leg, my arm, then cradled my face and I leaned into his caress. Why did this feel so good? Had I been so unwanted my whole life that I craved Ryan’s attention this much?
The way my common sense ran for the hills every time I was with Ryan made me think that the answer was a resounding yes. That touch was pure desire. In this moment, at least, he wanted me with every fiber of his being.
His other hand joined in the caress, and he gathered my hair off my shoulders, wrapping it in a firm grip while I basked in his focus and his touch. Once it was wrapped tight enough to pull against my scalp, he gave the tiniest of shakes to test his control of my head, and found it to his liking when I gasped. I could almost see the smile on his face.
“Open. Your. Mouth,” he whispered.
I licked my lips, gulped and did as he commanded, just in time to feel a strawberry touch against my cheek. With the firm grip he had on my hair, I couldn’t freely turn my head to get it, but he quickly corrected course and the sweet fruit was popped into my mouth.
Strawberry flavor burst on my tongue and momentarily overwhelmed the scent of Ryan’s cologne. His fingers traced along my jawline as I chewed, so light that they almost tickled, just barely touching my newly-found erogenous zone before he reached for my next mouthful.
“This is going to get messy,” he said.
He was right in every sense of the word. I could feel a sensation between my legs like a faint hum, a feeling I knew was going to eventually result in me sitting here with wet panties if he kept this up.
Messy. And if I kept on caving in, the mess was going to change my life until I didn’t even recognize it anymore.
The way he craved me, yet controlled me, made me feel like some kind of a dirty princess. Now that thought made me shiver in pleasure.
“Open,” he said.
I did, and felt another strawberry hit me in the lips. Something was different about this one though, the fruit was covered in some kind of chocolate sauce that dripped from my mouth and down my chin.