His body tenses and his eyes close.
I hesitate.
Perhaps that was too forward.
“If you’re going to touch me, sweetness, do it for real or not at all.” His voice is gravel. He repositions my hand, guiding it so it drags up every mouthwatering inch of his cock. He closes his hand over mine, pressing my palm against his iron rod erection. “Yeah, like that,” he growls in a low voice. I shift against my seat to alleviate the tension building between my legs. “Feel how hard I am for you, pet.”
He stares down at me with hooded eyes and I lose myself in the blue ocean framed by long dark lashes.
My head clouds with lust and it leaves me disoriented.
He’s like a potent drug, at least I assume, as I’ve never done drugs.
That’s the only explanation.
Here I am palming a guy in the middle of a restaurant.
What’s with me?
A faint smile teases his lips. “For the record, I like Dirty Jules,” he says, as if he could read my thoughts.
“You bring her out to play,” I coo. Fuelled by a burst of confidence, I rub his thick cock over his suit pants.
God, the man is packing.
I still can’t believe I was able to walk after multiple hard poundings, which resulted in multiple heart-stopping orgasms.
“Fuck, Jules,” he groans. I can’t tell if it’s a warning or a plea. He grabs hold of my wrist, moving my hand away. “Let’s get out of here before Carmela calls the cops on my ass for lewd behavior,” he answers my unspoken question. “I’d much prefer spending the night inside your inviting pussy than inside a jail cell.”
To underline his point, he clasps the back of my head and pulls my face to his for a fiery kiss so passionate I can feel his desire all the way to my toes.
