“What do you say we stop playing this game?” I watched you slowly lower your fork with a polite smile. Causal grace, picking up your wine glass with those big hands, delicate and practiced in their movements, I wondered if you could handle a woman like that.
“What game would that be?” a smile danced briefly across your lips sparking a predator instinct deep within me. No fight or flight this time – surrender only – no options.
“Well,” I smiled back into your eyes, focused and assessing the risks, “we can keep pretending that this THING is not going to end up naked and sweaty on a surface of my choice,” I watched with the triumph as the amusement faded from your eyes and the wine danced dangerously in the glass as it loudly grazed the plate in front of you on its quick decent to the table.
“We can keep chatting in sexual innuendoes and making quaint conversation,” I continued, leaning forward to allow the thin fabric my top to fall lower between the perfectly round mounds of warm cleavage punctuated by aching nipples, rewarded when your eyes leave mine to slowly caress each breast with appreciation.
“Or,” reaching into my lap to retrieve my napkin to gently rub the rough edges across my bottom lip to stop the razor like tingling from the visuals of my tongue stroking your balls tight with pleasure as I slowly suck each one, then both, into my mouth…as my eyes meet yours again, I place a light kiss on my napkin and deposit it into your lap for effect…
“We can confess the truth,” your eyes sharpen on mine daring me – like a spider to a fly – to step into your web, your thigh tightens under my hand moving up to stroke the front of your pants…toying slightly with your zipper as my fingers trace your erection … I watch the passion building in your body…your breathing stutters …once … twice… again … charged as you instinctively shift closer in your seat…spreading your legs apart as my fingers slip slowly down between your thighs… my thumb massaging circles around the thickness of your shaft growing harder with each moment.
“You are playing fire little girl,” your voice low and warning, as if punishing a child, pulling back, as you cover my hand with yours.
“Not anymore,” I whisper, need rushing through me, my pulse pounding in my ears; I stare with disbelief, wondering how men understand so little about sex.
“You see, you effect me…the pleasure that I want to you give you…the dirty little things I want you to do to me,” desire bringing waves of tears to my eyes as I struggle for words that I don’t need – independence from the nightly invasions into my dreams –
“I…” my voice wavering between passion and pleading…
“Go on,” your sexy voice deep with challenge. “Tell me,” your command is quiet with expectation of being obeyed; the scent of your body exploding through my senses like fireworks deep between my thighs.
“I,” caught between the pleasures of my dreams and reality of you, so warm and close, your hand covering mine, giving me strength and making me weak, “dream about me on my knees in front of you, as your eyes meet mine, I tell you the only truth I know – I want you…,” taking a deep breath to keep my words from tumbling over the erratic waves of my breathing.
I can feel you waiting for more, even though I can’t see past the sensations dancing in front of my eyes.
“I,” waiting for your reaction, as if knowing, you release your hold on my hand to free my mind and my body for our shared satisfaction, slowly taking my time to appreciate ever inch of your manhood rock hard against my hand, inviting you into my world of fantasy, “can feel the weight of you heavy in my hands…the way the urgency turns to calm the moment I slip the head of your cock into my mouth…moist and tight around you…each thrust turning want into need…your finger tangled deep in my hair expressing the what you don’t share.”
I can see you now. Watching me…my dream…my fantasy…playing out in your mind…becoming our reality.
“I,” my hand finding the sweet spot inside your pants, gratifying me with a low moan of admiration and pleasure, “wake up wanting the taste of your dick hard in my mouth,” I whisper into the air between us, raw adrenaline tearing along every pleasure point begging for release, wishing I was more embarrassed by my revelations.
“Not hungry?” an unfamiliar voice reaches through the haze of sexual fog around us, confused by the untouched plates.
“Very hungry,” your smile is back, easy and promising, glancing briefly at the server and down at my hand under the napkin in your lap, “just realized that I want something else tonight,” your eyes on me again, dropping bills on the table to cover the check.
“Come with me,” you extend a hand to me; waiting to see I will take the final step, where talk turns into action and passion into pleasure…and I slide my fingers into yours. It’s Independence Day.