“You can’t just look at me like that and then not tell me what’s going on,” I protested.
“London, it’s inappropriate,” he said, looking at me again with this half-lidded seductive gaze. I swear to God I thought he was going to lick his lips like LL Cool J or something. If it had been some other random dude in a bar, I might have found that look corny, but I was actually kind of turned on.
“Why don’t you let me decide if it’s inappropriate? I’m an adult.”
He hesitated, but only for a few seconds. “You have to promise me you won’t get offended if I say something fresh.”
“I promise, I promise. Now, tell me.”
“Okay. I was just thinking that you look like you’re the kind of woman who loves oral sex. Receiving, not giving.”
He said it so nonchalantly that it took a moment for it to register in my brain. When it did, I lowered my head, because I was sure all the blood in my body had rushed to my blushing face.
“See, I told you it was inappropriate. Look, I’m sorry—”
I squeezed his wrist to stop him. “It’s true.”
“Excuse me?” he said, suddenly sounding a little breathless.
“Yes, it was inappropriate, but it’s also true. I do love to receive oral sex. I don’t mind giving it, either.” For the record, I was now even wetter than before. “I just don’t get it like I used to. You know, husband’s too busy and all....”
“My God, what is wrong with him?”
“I wish I knew,” I said, not wanting to get into the fact that I believed he was too busy giving it to someone else these days.
“London, what would ... Never mind.”
“No, go ahead and say it.” I was starting to find this conversation very intriguing.
He sighed. “Ah, what the hell. You only live once.” He turned his whole body to face me. “London, what would you say if I told you I wanted to perform oral sex on you? No strings, no reciprocating, just me doing you until you come.”
Okay, at first I was wet, but now I was fucking soaked. Just the thought of this dreamy olive-colored man wanting to kiss me between my legs had me ready to go home and make love to my shower massager. I didn’t need the real thing; just the imagery was enough for me. After all, I was a married woman.
I opened my mouth to respond, but the phone rang again. I snatched it up furiously. “Harris, didn’t I tell you I wasn’t coming home?” I yelled.
“This isn’t Harris.” The baritone male voice was like a bucket of cold water over my head, extinguishing any flame that Tony might have ignited. It was my father. “But you stand corrected,” he said. “You are coming home. So whatever you’re doing, drop it and get home now.” And that was that. He ended the call.
Grown woman or not, Daddy was Daddy, and if he said I needed to come home, then something was going on. I picked up my purse. “I’m sorry, Tony, but I have to go.”
“Oh, the hubby not taking no for an answer?” he joked.
“No, that was my father. I have to go.” I stood up to leave, but Tony grabbed my hand.
“Before you go, I just need to know one thing.”
“No,” I answered before he could even ask the question. “No, even if the phone hadn’t rung, I would not have let you go down on me. Does that answer your question?”
He let go of my hand and turned back toward his drink.
I leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “But I do appreciate the offer. If I wasn’t married ...”
I’d like to think it was the alcohol that made me do it, but I can’t say I was all that drunk. No, I was fully aware of my actions as I grabbed Tony by the back of the head and pressed my lips against his. I got a taste of Hennessy from his tongue as he explored my mouth. God, if he was half as good at oral sex as he was at kissing, he’d have me wide open. It was a good thing I was going home.
“Thank you,” I said to him, staring into his soulful eyes. “You don’t know how bad I needed someone to talk to.”
LC
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