by KC Decker
“Seven seven zero one four.”
The devilish look on his face should trouble me, but instead, it makes my heart rock heavily in my chest. While he swipes and eventually finds what he is looking for, I scoot forward, so my entire lap is concealed by the tablecloth.
Our waiter appears to pour the rest of our Pinot Noir and inquire if we would like another bottle. Gavin looks at me and with a raise of his eyebrows, asks if I would like another $400 bottle of wine. Um, no.
Once the waiter leaves, Gavin presses record and then slips my phone under the table, presumably to point it at my crossed knees. A second later, he sits forward and addresses me with steely focus.
“Your panties.”
I gently pull my dress up my thighs until the bottom hem rests across my lap. Then I whisper to him, “I just pulled my dress all the way up, Gavin.”
“Good girl, now spread your legs for me.”
I do, it feels dirty and sinful, but just the thought of exposing myself for him to video gets me excited. The G-string panties I’m wearing are a laughable barrier, but I can still feel them impeding his eventual view.
“My legs are open for you, Gavin. Can you picture my thigh-high stockings and my garter belt?”
“Vividly.”
“What about the bare skin above the stockings?”
“Yes.”
“And the tiny black satin panties between my legs?”
“Yeah, those have to go.”
“Should I slide them over, and show you my pussy?” I’m speaking so low, I can barely hear myself—but I’m not taking any chances with letting someone classy hear me sounding like a whore. Just speaking those words though, has me so hot I feel like my spine could dissolve, and I wouldn’t even notice.
“No, baby-doll, you need to take them off altogether, and then hand them to me. But first, give me a little taste. Slide them to the side.”
I don’t break eye contact with him as I gather the scrap of satin and slowly pull it to the side. This is filthy, but it is giving me a huge rush of endorphins. I even widen my legs more and really display myself for him. Thank Christ the video is on my phone.
“Can you picture it, Gavin? Nothing is in the way or blocking your view. You are taking a video of my naked pussy right now.”
“This is hot as fuck, Alabama. Now, take your panties off and hand them to me.”
This might get interesting. I made a point to put my panties on after the garter belt so divesting myself of them will not be a problem, but handing them off sounds riskier than a prison yard drug transaction.
I don’t possess enough stealth to remove my panties with any kind of finesse. Luckily, this is the moment our waiter arrives with the dessert menu. I would say he diverted Gavin’s attention, but he didn’t. Gavin didn’t take his eyes off of me, not once. However, he did manage to order us a lemon tart, a vanilla bean crème brûlée, and a chocolate raspberry soufflé.
“Good choices,” I affirm. I think it’s cute he ordered three things, having not discussed my preference in dessert, I think he wanted to be sure to get one I would like. As if there was any real danger of me not liking a dessert from a fancy French restaurant. I wouldn’t be surprised if the stuff in the trash tastes good here.
“I almost told him to bring us one of everything just to get rid of him, but I didn’t want to get stuck here tasting them all,” Gavin says with a good-natured laugh. I concur. I’m ready to be alone with this sexy man.
Not one to skip a beat, he reaches across the table and extends his hand. I place my palm in his and smile before I explain that my panties are still around my ankles and that he needs to be a little more patient.
The hard part was covertly sliding them under my ass, the impossible part is going to be handing them to him. They will wad up fairly small, but I will still be passing my underwear across the table in an incredibly elegant restaurant. I’m more nervous about that part, than I am to provide him with a Hustler shot commemorated on video.
“Before you hand them over, let me see what we’ve got so far. I’ll start a new video when we are ready,” he says just as calm as can be, as he withdraws the phone from his lap to view the footage. After a few seconds of watching his face suffuse with a self-indulgent grin, I can’t take it anymore.
“Did it work? Or is it too dark? It’s too dark, isn’t it?” I nervously babble while praying no one walks by while he is sampling my immorality.
“I have the light on, it’s perfect,” he says as he deposits the phone in his jacket pocket.
As tiny as the G-string is, it is shocking how naked I feel without it on. After I pull one foot out of the panties, I cross my legs and cautiously lift my ankle to meet my extended hand.
Gavin looks dashing the way he is relaxing back into his seat. He looks like he’s at a high stakes gambling table in Vegas, and the look on his face says he knows he has the winning hand.
In an instance such as this, it’s probably better to be quick than good. Still, I force myself to breathe deeply because this needs to be a smooth hand-off. When I wink at him, he leans slightly forward and opens his palm.
I ease my own hand forward and place it in his. Instead of taking the panties and withdrawing, he holds my hand casually for an insanely long time considering what separates our palms.
“I want to thank you for coming to Los Angeles with me. Not only were you a big help, but you give incredible head.”
When my mouth falls open, his quiet chuckle turns into a full-on laugh. A few heads turn, but quickly grow bored, and resume their pretentious conversations.
“No, seriously though, I’m really enjoying getting to know why your friends paired us up.”
“I am too. And, you’re welcome,” I can’t say anymore because three delectable desserts have just been laid out before us. I can’t even take my hand back in denial of what is held in our grasp because Gavin has yet to let go of me.
While the waiter busies himself arranging seven thousand spoons, Gavin effortlessly transfers my G-string into his jacket pocket. I wonder if the amazing desserts will distract him from my indecent display? He answers that by pulling the phone from his pocket and pressing record. Soon his hand is once again poised under the table and ready for action.
“Show me, Alabama. Open your legs for me.” Apparently, I shift enough in my seat to convince him that my legs are wide open because he smiles brightly.
“They’re open, Gavin,” I taunt. They are too, and the way I’m perched on the edge of the seat makes it that much more of a showcase.
“Touch yourself.”
Here I hesitate for a few seconds because the exhibition is escalating rather quickly. However, the other restaurant patrons are completely oblivious to how badly we don’t belong in here right now, and our waiter is busy at another table with the whole wine song and dance. So, I maneuver my hand under the tablecloth and touch myself.
I flutter my eyes closed to indicate very clearly to Gavin that my fingers have made contact. When I open them again, I can see his composure is starting to slip.
“Slide two fingers up and down your slit, Alabama.” I don’t verbally respond, but I follow his directions while looking him square in the eyes.
“Are you wet?” he asks, without expelling any sound whatsoever. I give him my own wicked smile, and then I nod.
“Now, use your fingers like a V, and spread your pussy open for me.”
I follow his instructions, but I also spare a thought to the thousand deaths I would die of embarrassment if anyone else were to see this video. I might have to burn my phone and switch carriers just to feel better. I’ll have to nuke the cloud too; I can’t forget about the damn cloud.
“Damn, baby. You are making me so hard,” he quietly groans. “Let’s shovel this down and get out of here.”
Chapter 28
Gavin’s house is clean, but it’s also kind of understated—like any dude’s house before a woman comes in with paint, plants, and candles. His furniture
is all nice, as are the lighting fixtures, and wood floors. Notably, the white walls are all empty, which surprises me for the home of an artist. It just seems like something is missing. Maybe the heart, or perhaps the soul.
“I just moved in,” he says, as he switches on a light in the kitchen and pulls open the refrigerator. That explains a lot, his art on the walls is just what this place needs. That would give it a heart and soul.
“I don’t have much to offer you to drink, looks like it’s cold brew or water.”
“I’ll take water,” I decide, though I’m not a single bit thirsty. When he hands me the glass of ice water, he also pulls me into a somewhat savage kiss, which rockets me to the place where I want to be naked and pressed up against his tattoos.
He must agree with that sentiment because he swoops me up like a newlywed and carries me to his bedroom. When he puts me down on his bed, he also takes away the glass of water. He puts it somewhere, who knows where because now he is backing me down on the comforter and his kiss has not let up.
Besides his jacket, which he took off before we even got in the car, we are both fully dressed and panting like animals. While I fumble with the buttons of his shirt, he skims his hand up the back of my thigh to my ass, and then back down behind my knee to pull my leg up.
“I need to get to your zipper, or else this dress is going up over your head,” he says as he rolls us to the side. Wasting no time, he unzips my dress and then unhooks my bra.
“Aww, this is an amazing bra, and you are going to miss seeing it,” I tease. The way he has my knee pulled forward and cradling his body has my very naked core pressed up against his hard-on. It’s all I can do to not grind myself against his designer slacks.
“I’m not going to miss a thing,” he announces as he sheds his shirt and then works my dress down and off. I’m left in stockings, a garter, and a loosened black lace bra. He is all abs and smooth muscles—and his tattoos—I want them to brand me, mark me, I want them to imprint on my body and claim me as his.
Gavin noticeably slows things down and reverts back to gentle, sweet kisses. When he touches my face and gazes into my eyes, I feel a soul deep connection with him. I never could have anticipated this. I didn’t even see it coming.
My friends did, though. They deserve a Nobel Prize too because I didn’t recognize the potential for us as a couple. I would have let him slip through my fingers. Just the thought of that makes me want to commit myself to a psychiatric ward for a mental evaluation. Gavin and I fit—and this is how galaxies are formed.
“You’re so beautiful, Alabama,” he whispers, and it’s so heartfelt and vulnerable that tears flood my eyes before his tenderness even fully registers. I’ve been called beautiful before, but never with such an ache—such a longing.
“Thank you,” my voice cracks, and I blink a tear from my left eye, which Gavin swipes away with his thumb. I want to tell him that between the two of us, he is the beautiful one, but my throat has clamped shut.
He doesn’t seem to expect a loving declaration from me because he’s already kissing me again—and slowly working his way down my neck.
Like I said, he can engage his tongue piercing at will. For the most part, when we kiss, I don’t even feel the metal in his mouth—but times like this, when he intersperses little licks with his kissing, I feel the ball very deliberately. It’s highly erotic, and I can’t help but remember that same little ball rubbing against my clit.
He works his mouth down between my breasts and then raises his head. His hair is tousled from my fingers, so he looks rugged and dangerously sexy while his hand skims over my stomach.
“You’re right. This is an amazing bra,” he says through a handsome grin. Then his palm slides from my belly, straight up and under the loosened lace to cup my breast and thumb my nipple.
“Too bad it has to go.” Then his nose scoots the underwire over my other breast, and his mouth finds my nipple. I gasp at the intensity of the sensation, so he pops his mouth off and taunts, “You like that?” though there is little doubt that I do.
I pull him closer to me with the leg I have draped over his body, but it’s not enough to relieve the pressure between my thighs. While his fingers toy with one nipple, his mouth works its magic on the other.
This is one of those instances where he capitalizes on his tongue piercing because he flicks, and sucks my nipple like a pro, but when he bumps and rubs it with the ball of his piercing, he is a fucking master.
“OhmyGod, Gavin,” I pant as my back naturally arches against such skill. I’m starting to think he could bring me to orgasm without even touching my vagina. Shiiiiit, this is insane.
He kisses his way across my cleavage and then switches breasts. Now, he is intently rubbing his tongue ring against my impossibly hard nipple. I seriously think he’s going to make me come.
He alternates his intensity, and in this way, he rocks me closer to orgasm and then backs off some. I can’t decide if I should hold on to him, or grab handfuls of the blanket, or one of each. I’m definitely going to—
“Gavin! I’m gonna come.” He has built me up to impossible heights, and now I’m about to spill over.
“I’m—com—ing, UghhhhhhhhhhFuckkk!”
Somewhere in the middle of the thunder crashing, his lips are on mine again. My kiss is half-hearted because there is so much happening down below, but his is perfect—and possessive. It’s like he is taking back my orgasm and claiming it as his own. He should, he deserves it.
Eventually, our kiss evens out, but it’s still a while before I can speak. I’m out of commission. My arms are even flopped down on the bed like I’ve been crucified. I have never climaxed from nipple play before, and I need a few minutes to soak it all in.
“I need to taste your pussy again before I’m inside you,” he murmurs against my mouth. Life springs back into my arms, and I hold him tightly against me. I need to keep him in place. I do not want him to move a muscle.
“I don’t think I can wait that long to feel you, Gavin.” My voice comes out shaky, but I’m not surprised because my whole body is quaking with pure, animalistic need right now.
“No? You want my dick already?” he looks a little surprised, and a lot cocky. I can’t believe I’m saying no to his sensational oral skills, but that would be too distant right now. I need him pressed up against me, just like this.
“You sure you’re ready?” he asks, still a little inflated with his blue-ribbon abilities, and then needlessly reaches between my legs. “Mmmmm, you feel like you’re begging for my cock.” He swirls his fingers around my clit a few times, and then adds, “Is that true, Alabama? Are you begging for my cock?”
I shouldn’t have to dignify that with an answer because the evidence is all over his fingers, but if he wants to hear me say it, I’ll say it—and then some.
“Yeah, baby. I’m soaking wet just from the thought of you being inside me. I can’t fucking wait to feel you stretch me open with your huge cock. I need it so bad. Pleeeease, Gavin, give it to me and make me scream your name.”
His fingers have stopped rubbing, but his hand remains between my legs, and he is looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face. A few more quiet seconds go by before he finally speaks.
“Well, that certainly was compelling, Alabama.” Three seconds later, he springs into action and retrieves a condom from his nightstand. He is already unfastening his belt as he climbs back up on the bed. I sit up as he makes his way over to me on his knees.
“Let me,” I say as I take over lowering his zipper and then push both his slacks and boxer-briefs down his thighs. Then he takes up the task and shoves them the rest of the way off his legs.
“Open the condom,” I instruct before I take his swaying penis into my mouth. He doesn’t need any help getting ready, but I want to slobber up his dick really well, so the rubber slides for him a little.
After only a minute or two, he stills my head and slides out of my mouth. The condom is on in record time, the
n he pushes me back against the bed and says, “Now, give me that pussy.”
He knocks my legs apart with his knee and then is on top of me. He doesn’t go straight for the feather in his cap, but he does rock the underside of his dick back and forth through my folds. He is kissing me passionately too, so even though this is pretty fevered, it won’t be just a fuck.
He has both of my wrists in one hand, pinning them above our heads, and he is kissing my neck when he enters me. He only pushes in part way, but the gasp that escapes my lips happens close enough to his ear to make him groan.
“God, I live for that gasp,” he says as he drags his dick almost all the way out. This time he pushes in further, and because we are kissing, my slow groan from being stretched open happens against his mouth. That feeling of being bored into, with just the right amount of silky resistance, feels phenomenal.
His next meticulous thrust bottoms out, and it feels so amazing I’m already sweating along my hairline. Now, each time he pumps, it’s accompanied a skilled hip roll that almost deposits my eyes in the back of my head. It’s an advanced move—not all guys have it, trust me.
“Damn, girl—you feel crazy good against my cock,” he grinds out. I can tell he is trying to restrain himself, but I’m not sure if it’s for my benefit, or that he doesn’t want to behave like a rutting bull. Perhaps he needs some encouragement—because I don’t need him to be gentle with me.
“Fuck me harder, Gavin.”
“I’ll fuck you into the floorboards, baby girl—”
“Yes—just—like—that—yes—yes!”
“I’m going to give you what you want, Alabama. In fact, I’m going to make you crave it.”
Gavin does, in fact, fuck me harder, and now the neighbors are about to learn just how well he wields his cock. There is so much power behind his fucking, and the harder he pounds into me, the more the tickle blooms inside my pelvis.
He slows the fury behind his cock, but only so he can roll his hips and grind his pubic piercing into my clit. A splintered moan escapes my throat, but that’s all the sound I make because I have to hold my breath while those little balls are near my clit.
