“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I ask you, teasingly as the server sets down the third Patrón Reposado margarita in front of me. I giggle like a schoolgirl, totally unaware, while you eye me like a wolf about to devour its prey.
But you make no move. Not yet. You like your prey to be plied with sweet words and maybe a little alcohol and food so we relax and welcome the fall when it finally comes.
The meal we share is easy. Small plates shared. The conversation shared too. Small talk. Big topics. Deep thought flowing as easily as the cocktails.
Fleeting touches meant to make the breath hitch. Goosebumps and heat pooling at the pit of my belly and into the gusset of my barely-there underwear. And I wonder if I have the same effect on you as you have on me. Because right now I would crawl across this restaurant floor through broken glass if you asked me to.
Get down on my knees and worship you in front of everyone.
But you’re so good at this, so good at tying me into knots that I can’t tell how you even did it. Where they begin or end. Except that your sweet words were what lured me in, in the first place. The beauty of your prose. And because you’re so deft at words I no longer know the origins of my desires.
My hand cradled in yours. Kiss to wrist, warm and soft. And those eyes, your eyes pull me ever deeper into your vortex. I sigh to what the world around us can’t see. Your other hand, high on my thigh sliding even higher until it meets lace. A low growl when you sneak beneath and your fingertips meet slick skin.
Circles, pure and true, hit their target with deadly accuracy and your prey soon falls right here in the middle of a crowded restaurant full of people.
“Ssh, baby.” You ramble in my ear as I try to hold my climax in. Try to stay quiet. Make you proud. I grip the edge of the table, dig my nails into the lacquered wood until my knuckles go white and you keep going. Push your fingers deep inside and make me gasp.
“Good fucking girl. Give me another.” You praise and order and lure me in even further.
I lean against you, needing the support, and fall again before the next plate hits the table.
There are no cars left on the roof of the garage by the time we’re ready to go home. And that along with the warm summer night makes the Wild bold. The next thing I know, I’m on the hood of the car, bared from the waist down to the whole of the city and your mouth is on my cunt, tasting the fruits of the labor your fingers wrought not even a half-hour earlier. I’m gone. Floating in the stratosphere, lost in sensation, until you pull me back down the hood and right into your cock, sliding in all the way to the hilt. A groan of satisfaction when you bury yourself deep into me. Deep strokes long and sure and arms holding me tight against your body as you drive into me again and again, relentlessly.
Filthy words dripping from your lips onto my skin and soulful kisses that make me as wild as you.
I’m coming, pulling you deeper into me as my pussy spasms around you, my breath shallow and racing through my lungs while my nails slide through your hair and down your neck. Legs wrapped around you, holding on tight as you breathe deep and spill deep inside me with a low growl and punishing thrusts that threaten to push me over one more time. My hands on your cheeks, lips crashing and tongues dancing as we both come down from the fall.