Chapter 4: Dinner Interrupted
The clatter of my fork on the tile was louder than I’d intended. A few heads turned at neighboring tables, then just as quickly turned away, disinterested. My heart hammered against my ribs. I didn’t look at Amy. I just slid from my chair, the world dropping away into the shadowy cavern beneath our table.
The floor was cool, gritty with unseen crumbs. The black lace tablecloth formed a dense curtain, sealing us in a pocket of murmured conversations and clinking glass. I could see her legs, crossed at the ankle. The scent of her, that intoxicating blend of perfume and warm skin, was even stronger down here.
“Bob?” Her voice, a whisper from above, held a note of amused curiosity.
I didn’t answer with words. I pressed my lips to the delicate bone of her ankle. She jumped, a sharp intake of breath hissing through her teeth. My hands, trembling slightly, slid up the silk of her stockings, finding the warm skin of her calves. I kissed a path up her shin, my tongue tracing the curve of her muscle. She uncrossed her legs, letting them fall slightly apart in silent permission.
“You’re being very naughty,” she murmured, her voice low and thick. I could hear the smile in it.
I moved higher, nuzzling the incredibly soft skin of her inner thighs. She was bare there. My breath hitched. Through the thin red silk of her thong, I could see the thick shape of her, already swelling. A dark patch of moisture bloomed on the fabric. I pressed my face against it, breathing her in, salt and musk and promise. She gasped, her thighs tensing around my head.
“Do you want it, Bob?” Her hand came down, fingers tangling in my hair, not guiding, just claiming. “This filthy cock of mine? After what you did in the car?”
“Yes,” I groaned into her heat, the word muffled. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. How you tasted.”
“Tell me.”
“I’ve been a bad boy, Amy,” I whispered, the confession burning my throat. “I’ve been sitting here, listening to you talk about wine, and all I could think about was sucking you. About making you come in my mouth again.”
Her fingers tightened, a sharp, delicious pain. “You greedy little cocksucker.”
She hooked her thumbs in the sides of her thong and pulled it down, just enough. Her cock sprang free, thick and flushed, glistening at the tip. It tapped against my lips. I opened for her, taking the head into my mouth, tasting that first electric tang of her pre-come. I swirled my tongue around the crown, and her whole body shuddered above me.
“Fuck,” she breathed.
I took her deeper, my jaw stretching, my throat relaxing as I remembered the rhythm from the car. I bobbed my head, one hand wrapping around the base of her, feeling the powerful throb of her pulse. My other hand crept up, under her dress, finding the hot, taut skin of her balls. I cupped them, rolling the weight in my palm.
She let out a choked sound, followed by the distinct noise of her gulping wine. A drop hit the floor near my knee. “God, you’re good at that,” she rasped. “Such a hungry fucking whore for my dick.”
The words, filthy and perfect, sent a jolt straight to my groin. I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, using my tongue in frantic strokes along the sensitive vein underneath. Her hips began to rock minutely, pushing deeper into my throat with each shallow thrust. The public danger of it, the absurdity—a respectable man in his forties on a fancy restaurant floor, greedily sucking a beautiful woman’s cock—it melted away into pure, animal need.
I pulled off, gasping, a string of saliva and her slickness connecting my lips to her. “Punish me,” I panted, looking up at the shadowy outline of her face. “I deserve it. I’m under the table like an animal. I’m your animal.”
She chuckled, a dark, thrilling sound. “Oh, you will be punished. You think this is service? This is just you getting a taste of what you crave. Later, I’m going to bend you over and fuck you so hard you forget your own name. I’m going to make you scream into a pillow. But for now…”
Her hand guided me back to her. I took her all, until my nose was buried in the auburn curls at her base, my throat working around her. She held me there, my eyes watering, for one long, exquisite moment before letting me up for air.
“Suck my balls, you desperate slut.”
I obeyed instantly, lowering my mouth, taking one then the other into the wet heat of my mouth, laving them with my tongue. She moaned, a low, continuous sound of pleasure. Her grip in my hair was absolute.
“Now finish what you started. Make me come. I want to feel you swallow every fucking drop.”
I returned to her cock, my movements becoming more frantic, more focused. I could feel the tension coiling in her, the way her thighs began to tremble. Her breathing became ragged, punctuated by soft, bitten-off curses. “Yes… right there, don’t stop, you beautiful fucking whore…”
Her climax hit suddenly. A hot, salty pulse flooded the back of my throat. I swallowed convulsively, drinking her down as she bucked silently against my face, her other hand slapping down on the tablecloth above to stifle her cry. I milked her with my lips and hand until she was spent, sensitive, pushing gently at my forehead.
I rested my cheek against her thigh, breathing hard, my own desire a painful, neglected ache. I kissed her damp skin.
After a moment, she tugged her thong back into place and smoothed her dress. Her hand patted my head, almost fondly. “Get up. Slowly. Act normal.”
I crawled out from under the table, my knees protesting, and slipped back into my chair. The restaurant seemed brighter, louder, surreal. Amy was taking a slow sip of water, her cheeks flushed, her green eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction. No one looked our way.
She leaned forward, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “The check is on its way. Then you’re going to follow me home. Your punishment isn’t about denial, Bob. It’s about endurance. You’re going to get exactly what you asked for until you’re sobbing with it.”
She sat back, a slow smile spreading across her lips as she watched the blood drain from my face and then flood back, hot and shameful and thrilling. The waiter appeared with the leather booklet. She placed her card inside without looking, her gaze locked on mine, promising a world of exquisite, terrifying surrender.