She squirmed in her seat and her breathing faltered.
She likes this.
As I continued stroking the soft skin, the warm chocolate of her eyes flared to a bronze. Our eyes met and I dared her to say something—to admit to the effect my touch was having on her—but she said nothing. My eyes zoned in on her lips as she ran her tongue across them, rolling the skin between her teeth, her eyes darting left and right before landing on mine again. As much as it was thrilling to see her like this, I decided to throw her a bone and asked more about the audition, all the while continuing my slow, sensual torture.
We talked more about her opportunity to work in the theater and such was her excitement that sometimes her words became caught in her throat. I refused to stop touching her so she had to use her other hand to sip at her wine; something that pleased me greatly. Eventually the waitress arrived and I had to relinquish Elena’s hand so she could eat. I may not have been able to touch her, but that didn’t mean I was entirely well behaved. When she offered me a bite of her tuna I accepted, returning the favor with my own dish, only just managing to suppress my growl when her lips slid over the fork, my cock pushing against the zipper of my pants when she moaned her appreciation.
“That is delicious,” she said.
“You certainly are.” I’d intended for the comment to tease her and when she paused for a beat, I wondered whether she was going to respond. “It certainly is,” I clarified and a flush colored her cheeks.
Dinner continued in an erotic game. It crossed my mind that she might be doing it on purpose, until I realized that Elena had never been that brazen. It had to be my own need to take her in every way possible that was causing me to look for double entendre. With this in mind, I tried to keep the conversation light. At the end of the meal the waitress returned with the dessert menu, but Elena refused; a gesture I silently thanked her for. If the woman thought the lamb was delicious, I’d hate to see what noises she’d make when tasting one of the chef’s crème brulees. I was generally a patient man, but I couldn’t take much more before I cleared the table and took her right here. One such benefit of the evening thus far was that I now no longer had to guess at what she looked like when she was enjoying something. The image of her wide eyes and parted lips returned and my cock throbbed.
Standing, I held out my hand to her. She hesitated a moment before placing her hand in mine. I helped her up and led her to the dance floor.
“I’m not a good dancer,” she whispered softly.
Bending down, I nipped her ear and feeling her jolt, a smile came to my lips. “I am.”
Carefully, I guided her across the dance floor and when I pulled her close to me the scent of lavender invaded my senses. Our bodies touched at every possible place. With her breasts pressed against my chest, the searing heat from her skin seeping through my shirt, my heart began to thunder. She lifted a hand from my waist to rest it gently on my shoulder, looking up at me, making sure it was okay. Fuck, this woman left me in a state of sexual frustration I hadn’t experienced since I was a teenager.
With very little coaxing, Elena fell in step with me and we moved gracefully across the floor. I kept my eyes on the dancers around us, thoughts of sliding the zipper of her dress down, revealing the surprise inside, invading all the space in my brain until the desire to see her face was overwhelming. Dropping my eyes, I noticed her flushed cheeks, the rapid beat of the pulse in her neck, her breath coming in shallow pants as her eyes locked on mine. The fire there threw me, and when she made her move, my footsteps faltered.
Her hand on my shoulder slid up, moving behind my neck, curling into my hair, and when she applied the slightest of pressure, I obeyed, bending down to devour her mouth, the taste of red wine lingering on her lips. Wanting more, I deepened the kiss, blatantly ignoring the fact that we were on a very crowded and very public dance floor.
Her fingers flexed then tightened in my hair, holding my mouth against hers. I could feel her heartbeat next to my chest. A soft whimper escaped her throat. By the time she pulled away my head was ready to explode with lust. Her lower body still pressed to mine, the hard length of my shaft pushing into her abdomen, I felt the slightest twitch of her hips and my eyes immediately found hers.
Eyes so dark they could be chestnut stared back at me, reflecting the same lust I felt coiled deep within my stomach. She swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak. At first nothing came out and I chanted in my head.
Please, please, please.
Somehow, I fought off the urge to reach down and adjust myself. It felt like I’d waited an eternity for her, not simply a few weeks, and the few moments we stood in silence, waiting to hear what she wanted, felt twice as long.