I nod, close my eyes, and slip my hand under my dress until my fingers reach my wetness.
“Tell me how wet you are now.”
“More than I’ve ever been,” I say as a low moan escapes my lips.
He brings my face closer to his, so he’s wrapped an arm around me, as if he’s shielding me from anyone who might see or hear. “And how does it feel to have your fingers on your cl*t while I’m right here next to you, and I can smell how turned on you are?”
“Oh God,” I gasp, and he’s sending me to another plane of pleasure already with the way he strips me bare. I am burning all over, my whole body is lit up from how he talks to me. “I’m so turned on by you.”
“And have you masturbated to me f**king you?”
“Yes,” I say, as sparks of pleasure careen through my body with every dirty word from his mouth.
“And how do I do it?”
“Any way. You do it any and every way.”
“Do I f**k you from behind? With you bent over the bed?”
“Yes.”
“And do I f**k you up against the wall, with your legs wrapped around me?”
“Yes.”
“And do I f**k you on a table?”
“Yes.”
“And are you on all fours, so I can run my hand down your gorgeous back before I slide into you and you beg me to take you harder?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I answer in heavy pants, my breathing growing wildly erratic as electric heat ripples through my veins.
“And do you take me in your mouth?”
“God yes. I want to do that to you. I want you to let me,” I whisper to him in a hungry, needy voice, because he’s driving me absolutely insane and to the far edge of pleasure. I’m an expert at self-love, this is my specialty, this is what I do, but the way he talks to me as I touch myself makes it seem as if he’s the one doing it.
He traces my top lip with his finger. “You think you’d like having my c**k in your mouth?”
“Yes. I want to. I want to taste you,” I say, then he slips his finger into my mouth and I close my lips around it.
“You’re so close now to coming, aren’t you?”
I breathe out a strangled yes, as he takes his finger away.
“I don’t want anyone else to hear you,” he says in a firm voice. “You’re so loud when you come. Do you have any idea how loud you are?”
“I know I’m loud,” I say, in between muffled moans against his skin.
“And I love it. I love it when you can’t hold back. And when you moan, and scream and grab my hair hard. But you need to be quiet right now. Do you know why?”
“Why?” I manage to ask, as I touch myself more.
“Because no one else can know what you sound like coming. I don’t want anyone in this restaurant to hear you. I don’t want anyone else to know how f**king sexy you sound when you come. I want you to be quiet, and whenever you want to scream out, you need to moan in my ear, so I’m the only one who can hear you. The noises you make are only for me.”
“Yes.” I’m barely in this restaurant anymore. I’m some place else with him, a dark and desperate place, as he cups the back of my head, and brings my face to his neck, so my mouth is near his ear. “Now pretend you’re home, and you have to be quiet, but it’s so f**king hard to be quiet, because you’re picturing my c**k in your mouth, and your beautiful lips wrapped around me.”
“You’re killing me,” I pant out. “I want you so badly. I want to do that to you.”
“And I want to see your gorgeous mouth on me. I want to thread my hands into your hair and feel you take me in. I want you to know what you do to me.”
It’s all I can see, all I can picture, and I want to touch him, to know how hard he is, if he’s as turned on as I am right now, because I’m well past caring about anything except the way my body screams for him. I could hike up my dress, unzip his pants, and slide on top of him right now. I could ride him right here in the far back corner of this too-cool-for-school restaurant and I honestly wouldn’t care if anyone saw me, because I am mindless with my desire for him. I am adrift in lust, and all I want is release, and I start to cry out because it feels so good. But he silences me quickly, rasping his knuckles against my lips. “Bite down when you come.”
And I do, as my fingers fly and an orgasm starts deep in my belly and then spreads through my body, making me quiver and shake and want to shout and moan and thrash, but instead I bite down on him to muffle my sounds as I shudder and come for him in the restaurant where we’ll be eating dinner any minute.
Finally, when I can breathe and speak and make contact with reality, I look at him, and he has the most satisfied grin on his face when he shows me the bite marks I left on his knuckles.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
“Don’t ever be sorry for that.” Then he takes my hand, and he presses it against his pants so I can feel his c**k straining against the fabric. He unzips the fly, locks my fingers into his, and brings my hand inside his pants, then down his boxer briefs, and I nearly combust when I touch him for the first time. He’s so hard and big and velvety smooth. He’s throbbing in my hands, and I can tell how much he wants me to touch him.
“Let me,” I plead.
He gives me a smirk, then shakes his head playfully as if I’ve been naughty.
“God, when are you going to sleep with me?” I ask because I’m so keyed up and so frustrated. “I want you inside me.”