“Why did you choose red if you wanted white?” I indicated the drink in my hand.
His lips dragged up into an alluring smile, “I hoped you would order the risotto and they pair well.” The satisfaction in his voice was as full-bodied as the wine.
“I think you may be too aware of your good looks and charms and the power they give you over mere mortals such as myself. They’re a devastating force of nature, and here I am, without my answers, standing in the face of a typhoon,” I rolled my eyes, pretending it was only a joke.
“My looks are the least of your concerns, Claire.” The flicker of menace dancing in the depths of his eyes heated my blood. The color reflected springtime and new beginnings, except for the hint of darkness screaming in need of the light those warm days promised. Just like that, he breathed life into the fears I had about him: the power and danger emanating from him.
His lips kicked up, but his expression remained. “Besides, if anyone’s beauty is a naturaldisaster, it’s yours.” I knew without a doubt he was imagining me on my ass in a pile of dick pics.
“Who, me?” I cleared my throat, unperturbed by my thoughts of danger. My insides liquefied at the idea he might be dangerous.
“I think you know exactly how sexy you are, and how much I want you.”
I shook my head in disagreement. “I’m sure you find me attractive, but I don’t think I’m especially sexy, not that it matters much...”
“Your opinion of yourself is the only one that matters.” The way he looked at me, for a moment, I thought he was as close to falling for me as I was for him. He tapped his finger thoughtfully against the lips I needed to sample. “But it’s important to remember that a man like me wanting you so badly maynotbe in your best interest.”
“Why?” I slid my foot forward and hooked it around his ankle, moving up his leg toward his groin. To my utter shock, he gripped my ankle hard and pulled it up to rest on his thigh. My legs spread, my pussy exposed, covered only by the thin, lacy fabric.
“Because I’m dangerous.”
The server returned, leaving our dinners on the table between us. Mason dismissed him with a polite nod and ‘thanks’. His hands rolled over my flesh with practiced strokes, not breaking for a moment. I kept my expression as even as possible.
I wondered if he ever did this professionally, and I wasn’t sure if I meant massage or seducing women.Dangerous, the word battered around inside my head until it was meaningless, just a combination of letters and sounds with no purpose. His hands dancing on my skin dazed me. It was all I could do to keep my gaze on his face instead of letting them roll toward the ceiling.
“Would you like me to go further?”
I gave the briefest moment of consideration to our lovely dinner going cold. My eyes flicked around the restaurant, debating whether anyone paid us strict attention. I couldn’t remember when the place got busy. The tension blurred the rest of the world from existence.
The atmosphere was intimate. The space between the tables without candlelight was dim, and our tablecloth ended on the floor. If I was careful with my expression, I didn’t think anyone would notice. “Yes, please,” the words were barely more than a breath.
He slid his chair closer to mine and moved his place setting with him until he pressed against my side and we simply looked like a couple who couldn’t stand to be apart from one another. His left hand held his wine glass. He took lazy sips while his fingers skated closer to where I wanted them most. He traced the lacy fabric of my panties. I dropped my head into my hands and moaned softly. He chuckled at my response.
The warmth of his touch soaked through the lace, and I couldn’t find it in me to care that the slick wetness was ruining the fine fabric. He placed his thumb on my clit over my underwear and pressed down hard enough to send a little jolt of pleasure through me, but didn’t move a centimeter. He waited for my rapid breathing to slow. My dress was bunched up around my thighs, my fists clenched the material trying to brace some of the impact his touch had on me.
“Ah,” I couldn’t help the moan escaping me.
“Eat your dinner, Claire.” He dipped and swirled the pad of his thumb, eliciting soft groans. The material between us irritated me and egged me on. I needed to feel him with nothing between us.
“What?”
“You heard me.” I stifled a moan as I leaned forward to grab my fork and have a taste. “How is it?” The bastard had a cocky grin on his face and we both knew he wasn’t talking about my dinner.
“Amazing, but I need something more filling.”
“Is that so?” he taunted as he pushed my panties aside and touched my skin.
“Oh, God...”
“I know,” —he took a sip of his wine— “I told you, they make excellent risotto.” He slid his fingers from my clit to my entrance and pressed his finger slightly into me, “Would you like some more?”
“God, yes, please.”
“Have another bite then.” I looked at him like I might try to take his head off, but I obeyed. “Good girl,” he praised me as the fork left my lips, and he pushed two of his fingers deep inside me.
“Mason,”
He leaned into my hair, pressing a kiss to my ear. “I know, baby, you’re incredibly tight.” He pumped against my G-spot while he kept up a constant stream of praise, “This pussy is so wet. I love having you wrapped around my fingers. I can’t wait to have you on my cock.”