Her grin would border on bashful if she wasn’t looking at me like she might crawl across the table and straddle me.
“I think it might be,” she says, her laugh a little self-conscious. “I guess I just haven’t been adventurous.”
“Or maybe you haven’t had the right lovers,” I offer with a roguish grin. “You’re welcome.”
“Asshole.” She rolls her eyes, predictably, but still smiles. “And what about you, Mr. Sex Anywhere?”
“The strangest? Let’s see. Once backstage at a U2 concert.”
“Damn, you do have good taste in music.”
“Told you.” I laugh and keep going. “Once in chambers. She was a judge. Aisle four of a grocery store. She was closing.”
“Okayyyy.” Her expression grows more curious and incredulous with each revelation. Since she’s a Catholic, I think it best to omit my sexual encounter in a church confessional.
“A PTA meeting.” I laugh at the horror on her face. “One of my clients was out of town and asked me to talk to the teacher.”
“So I guess you enjoy the thrill of possibly getting caught?”
“No, I just like sex and have it whenever the mood strikes me.” I shrug and shoot her a lopsided grin. “You should see your face right now. You’re like Green Eggs and Ham, the Sex Edition.”
“What?” She wrinkles her nose, obviously confused. “What does that even mean?”
“I would not do it here or there,” I affect a droll accent, quoting Dr. Seuss. “I would not do it anywhere.”
“Oh my God,” she chuckles. “You’re ridiculous.”
“A train! A train!” I keep at it. “Could you, would you on a train? Not on a train. Not in a tree. Not in a car.”
“Shut it!” she manages through her laughter. “I’m not a prude or anything. I just haven’t been given the right opportunities.”
“Ohhh, you haven’t been given the right opportunities,” I say, eager to provoke a response. “And here I thought you were the kind of woman who made her own.”
Her eyes slit at my prodding, lit with a mixture of excitement and determination. She glances around the deserted terrace, and I’m not sure if I should be scared or aroused by her impish grin. I’m gonna go with aroused, since that seems to be my default with Banner.
“You know what,” she says, tossing her napkin on the table. “You’re right. That is the kind of woman I am.”
She slides down her seat and disappears under the table.
“Banner, what—”
The sibilant hiss of my zipper jerking down shuts me right up. Her hands at my belt make me go still. I like where this is going.
“This is really happening?” I ask, afraid to hope.
“Uh huh,” she says, her voice muffled through the wood.
I slump in my seat and spread my legs. I want to make this as easy as possible for her.
She pulls me out, her hands firm and cool, her mouth hot and wet.
Holy fucking shit.
All the alcohol I’ve consumed starts boiling in my blood and rushes to the head below my belt. I’m going to enjoy every damn minute of this, and if our server comes back, I’ll stab him with my steak knife.
“I like this done a very particular way,” I say, striving not to sound breathless. “Do you need direction?”
“You tell me,” Banner says, before taking my cock nearly to the back of her throat.
I grit my teeth and fist the tablecloth, determined not to moan.
“You’re doing just fine,” I choke out.
“Mmmm,” she hums, the vibration traveling from my dick to my toes. She drags me over her lips until only the tip is still in and then licks me like that vodka popsicle. Thoroughly, greedily, like I’m worth a billion points and she can’t get them down fast enough. I slam my hand on the table, disrupting the glass and china. Banner’s laugh is steamy around me, and I almost lose it.
“Excuse me, sir?”
You have got to be kidding me.
“Uh, yeah.” I compose myself enough to answer the server with some semblance of coherence as Banner rolls my balls in her hand.
“Dessert?” he asks.
Shit, I’m gonna come. I’m pretty sure my eyes are rolling in the back of my head.
“What?” I manage. “Huh?”
“Would you like dessert?” he repeats, casting a curious glance toward Banner’s empty seat. “Or would the lady like something?”
“I don’t know that I . . .” I spread my legs more and slide down, pushing another inch into her mouth “. . . saved room for anything else.”
“The lady?” he asks again.
“She-she . . .” God, she excels at this. “Um, went to the bathroom.”
At that very moment, Banner’s enthusiastic bobbing below bangs her head on the table. The glasses and plates lift and clang. The server’s eyes widen and he clears his throat.
“Dude, double tip if you get the hell outta here,” I rasp, on the verge of spilling my life down Banner’s throat.
Without a word and with guaranteed discretion, he quickly leaves the terrace.
With him gone, I slide the table back enough to see Banner’s pouty lips spread around my cock. An image to store away for future fantasies. I tangle my fingers in her hair, urging her to take more and faster. My other hand slips into the strapless dress to twist her nipple. Her breath stutters, disrupting the steady pace of her mouth on me, and I decide those are not the lips I want to see on my dick. I tug her hair until she has to release me. The look she sends up is leaded with passion, free of strictures and ready to give me whatever I want.