I imagined that same print on my dick.
“It’s good.” She placed a slice of bread on her plate and took a bite.
I didn’t move because I was entranced by her, by the way her mouth moved as she chewed, by the way that black dress fit her so perfectly. Her olive skin was flawless, having its own distinct shine. The hollow of her throat was kissable. I could picture my tongue tasting her as my dick was buried deep inside her. My mouth craved to kiss her everywhere, going all the way around her mouth, pussy, and ass. I was a sexual man with exceptional needs, but this woman amplified my desires. Watching her do something so simple, like drink a glass of wine, was practically pornographic to me.
She finished her bruschetta. “Are you going to try one?”
I’d rather try her. “No.” I grabbed the glass of wine and took a drink. If I weren’t so adamant that I didn’t want anyone else looking at her, I would lift her onto the table and fuck her right in the middle of the restaurant. I suspected we wouldn’t make it back to the compound because I’d pull over and fuck her in the truck.
She took another piece and ate it slowly, watching me. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Exactly. You’re just staring.”
“I like to stare.” I set the glass down and felt the drops of wine move over my tongue. With bold flavors that were innately fruity, it was a smooth vintage. But it was still no scotch. “I like to stare at my property.”
“Really? So you just stand there and look at your truck?” she challenged, being a smartass.
I liked it when she was a smartass. “No. I like to stare at the beautiful things I own. You’re the first piece of that collection.”
Her fingers rested against the stem of her glass as her eyes softened slightly.
“Let’s go home.” I didn’t want to sit through dinner and be tortured. Dinner was the prelude to sex, just boring foreplay. I was so hard in my jeans that my dick was about to pull down my zipper. Her pussy was already wet—that was a prediction I could make with absolute certainty. So let’s skip the bullshit.
“We can after dinner.”
“We can get it to go.”
“Is sitting here with me that boring?” She sat perfectly straight, holding her gorgeous figure with pride. She had the sexiest shoulders, soft and rounded. Her hair was held back from her face loosely, and I wanted to yank the clip out of her hair so it would be free.
“Just the opposite.”
“Then you can wait.” She drank her wine again, smearing more lipstick against the glass.
I took an involuntary breath, aroused by her bossiness. As a hard man, I didn’t respond to orders. I called the shots because I had to be in charge. If someone challenged me, I’d destroy them. But every time this woman put me in my place, it made me so fucking hard. She wasn’t afraid of me like everyone else. If anything, she felt safe with me—invincible.
“Now have some bruschetta.”
“No.”
She rolled her eyes. “You told me you expect to die young. So maybe you should live a little while you can.”
“I drink. That’s how I live a little.”
She ate another piece and didn’t press me on it again. A crumb got stuck in the corner of her mouth, and her tongue swiped it away.
She was torturing me on purpose. “Your tongue is going to be raw when I’m finished skull-fucking you.”
She hesitated before she took another sip. Her eyes filled with playfulness, like she found that amusing. “When we’re finished here, I’ll get on my knees on the hardwood floor and push that dick as deep in my throat as possible. Spit will pool in the corners of my mouth, and tears will drip from the corners of my eyes because of your size…”
My breathing increased as the desire cut off my air supply. She was torturing me, but I couldn’t stop picturing the scene she painted for me. Her strap would be pushed down, and her hair would be a mess from my fisting it so much.
“But for now, let’s enjoy ourselves.”
My nostrils flared.
She smiled. “I like torturing you. It’s so easy.”
“I can torture you too.”
“But not as well as I can.” She filled her glass with more wine.
This woman had no power, but she somehow put me in my place so easily. She had her hands on the wheel, and she was choosing the route.
I was just along for the ride.
The waiter emerged and brought our dishes.
Thank fucking god. Let’s get this shit over with.
Cassini and I didn’t have a lot of conversation to share, but since I was a man of few words, that was preferable. We could sit together in silence and be perfectly entertained. A few exchanges of expressions were all we needed.