I felt an attraction to Mr. Marks from the moment I saw him, and I could tell it was mutual, which thrilled me. He’s devastatingly handsome – like Jimmy, but taller, broader, rougher, and more of an alpha male. God, I bet he’d know how to take my virginity, unlike Jimmy who seems to be stumbling in that department. I chastise myself for even thinking like that. And yet, the electricity between us last night was undeniable. It wasn’t until I felt it that I realized that it’s what’s been missing between Jimmy and me this whole time. The way Mr. Marks dared to reach into my panties like it was no big deal. Plus, the way he skillfully managed to pull it off – rubbing my clit in those little circular motions until I orgasmed right there at the table, pussy creaming hard.
Part of the reason I spent the night wide awake was because I was thinking about him, trying to recreate the movements on my pussy myself. Unfortunately, I didn’t succeed. I’ve tried playing with myself before, but never really figured out what I like. I can’t believe that my first orgasm happened like that! From my boyfriend’s billionaire dad under a table at a fancy restaurant, no less. It was incredible, and I have to admit that I’m curious to find out more about him. Why would he risk such a daring act? I know he’s divorced from Jimmy’s mom, but isn’t he in a relationship or something? And how badly does he really want me, to go to lengths like that?
Suddenly overcome with an insatiable thirst for answers, I throw on a casual sundress, put on my lacrosse cap and sunglasses, and pull on my sneakers. Looking in the mirror, I decide I look casual and sexy – my tits are huge in this dress and my curves come off as sassy. Enflamed by what happened last night, I suddenly find myself feeling a bit more confident than usual. Finding myself on the receiving end of the advances of a hot, crazy rich DILF, has done something to me. The fact that this DILF is my boyfriend’s dad does bother me – but my frustration at Jimmy’s lack of sexual interest helps me brush that aside. At least until I work out what this thing with Mr. Marks is.
Heading over to the bleachers, I see Jimmy running up to me. He’s in his lacrosse gear and wearing an anxious expression.
“Where the hell were you?” he asks me, annoyed.
“What do mean?” I ask, taken aback. “The game hasn’t started yet, has it?”
“The pre-game, Katie. You’re my girlfriend. All the other players’ girlfriends were here! How do you think that made me look?” he demands. The boy has never been annoyed with me before and I’m taken aback.
“But you didn’t tell me,” I say feebly. “I didn’t know.”
“The fact that I have to tell you that a lacrosse player needs his girlfriend there during pre-game is – well, maybe a sign that this isn’t really working,” he says, surprising me. He sees it in my eyes, and immediately softens.
“Look, I dunno, okay? I just needed you there and I was annoyed. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about it later. The game’s about to start,” he apologizes.
“Okay,” I agree. Jimmy kisses me hastily and rushes off to the field, leaving me astounded, but not hurt. Because actually, the feeling is more one of relief. Clearly Jimmy isn’t sure this is working out, too, and it wasn’t just me. We’re both hellishly confused and unsure what to do next. But if that’s the case, then I need to figure things out first. I can’t allow for anymore hanky panky with his dad. Yet I’m not sure I want to eradicate that possibility either. What in the world is wrong with me?
I arrive at the bleachers looking for a seat and see someone raise a hand in greeting at the edge of the field. Oh my god, it’s Mr. Marks. My heart skips a beat and my mouth dries up. Holy shit. He looks incredible. It would be too awkward to go sit somewhere else now that he knows I’ve seen him waving. So not knowing what else to do, I start making my way over to him as the game begins. The crowd starts cheering, and yet all I can focus on is him as I come closer. Yesterday he’d been wearing his business suit, obviously having come just from the office. But today being Saturday, he’s dressed more casually in stone-colored linen slacks and a baby-blue shirt with the arms rolled up, exposing his muscled forearms. The color of his shirt makes the piercing blue of his eyes really pop, and as I draw closer, my breath catches in my throat. He’s not smiling at me, exactly, but there’s a gleam in his eyes of something.