Letting my fingers join his as he undoes his zipper.
I breathe in sharply, aching to turn and see, needing to feel his hot length in my hands, but he stops me.
“Uh uh… You show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” he says softly, groaning low as I move away just long enough to pick the bag I know has my favorite outfit in it.
“Here,” he instructs me, pointing to a space on the hand-woven carpet, pulling up a heavy ornate chair as though it’s patio furniture.
He urges me with a jut of his chin to undress, and with each layer, I take off, he slides down his zipper lower.
Once I’m before him in nothing but my new bra and panties, he lets out a long and low groan, freeing his engorged cock.
Stroking it just enough to show me how big he really is, even with his huge hand wrapped around his length, it’s massive.
I gasp loudly, my legs pressing together as I struggle not to pleasure myself.
But seeing his arousal, the clear line of his thick precome dripping from him already, I seriously doubt I could focus on dressing, let alone eating anything except his dick right now.
“Slade,” I whimper, shivering and jumping as my rock hard nipples and clit brush the sheer lace of my fresh but now sodden lingerie.
“Leave it on,” he growls, and sliding his pants down to his ankles, he settles himself in the huge chair, his eyes devouring me as he tells me to dress.
“Very. Slowly,” he adds, cocking a brow and running his huge palm over the now glistening purple helm of his thick cock. Grunting and sighing.
The pressure he’s putting himself under not to explode is obvious, but he’s getting off by not getting off.
Edging himself as I feel myself about to come just from watching him.
“Save it,” he warns me. “Like I’m saving this for you,” and although I feel my knees tremble, my eyes blurring with pre-climax, I obey him.
Never knowing just how hot the anticipation of a single moment could make me until now.
With trembling hands and taking much longer than I need to, Slade instructs me to bend over in front of him and reach into the designer bag.
Slowly coaching me in an even voice just how and where wants me to stand as I slip the fabric over my body.
“That’s it,” he growls, his jaw tighter than I’ve ever seen it.
His thick member twitches as he willfully defies his climax.
I’m whining like a wounded beast by the time I’m half-dressed, but I need help with my zipper.
“Here,” Slade says, and he slowly rises from his chair, gently pulling me close enough once I’m within reach and turning me around.
I can feel the heat of his body against my back, but he somehow manages to keep his hands all to himself.
The only thing I feel is my dress being zipped up before he turns me to face him.
One of his hands slowly slides up the inside of my dress, roughly pulling the delicate lace of my panties aside before he thrusts a single finger deep inside me, making me swear loudly.
Buckling under his touch as his palm covers my sex.
“Good girl,” he growls, swiftly removing his finger and running it over his cock again before bringing the same finger to my lips.
Without even thinking I grip his thick digit with both hands and put all of it in my mouth.
Sucking his finger until he hums with approval.
“You’re all mine, Abby. And I want this anticipation as much as I want you… I want each mouthful over dinner to taste like this,” he says huskily.
“I want you to eat, breathe and taste us,” he growls
I whimper again, sucking harder on his finger, begging him with my eyes for him to finger me again.
But he’s a man of his word.
And waiting until after dinner means waiting until after dinner.
Even if I have to swim to and from the table, nearly drowning in my arousal.
But it’s the hottest damn thing I’ve ever experienced so far.
And something tells me Slade’s just warming up.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Slade
It’s not just wanting to see her barely dressed.
Not just wanting to stroke my fat cock as I watch her either.
Not entirely.
There’s a method to my madness, a reason in my obsessive instructions for her.
If she’s gonna take what I have to give, Abby’s gonna need to be wetter than an otter’s pocket at the bottom of Lake Titicaca.
And I’ve got all dinner to keep her this way with good food and some more instructions on how she can get herself ready to be mine completely.
I’d like nothing better than to bend her over my chair, filling her full of my seed in a second, but I want tonight to be special.
I want every second to count.
I straighten my clothes and with Abby in front of me, we make our way down to the dining room. A private table has been booked with strict instructions we’re not to be disturbed unless we call for service.