I slowly lower down to my elbows, the hard wood of the desk cool beneath my arms. Cole lifts my dress up past my waist. It’s like torture waiting for him to touch me. Finally, a palm slides along my inner thigh until his thumb is there rubbing up and down the crotch of my panties.
“Jesus, Brooke. You’re soaked.”
I whimper. I need more than his feather-light strokes. I need sucking and licking and penetration.
“I know.” I groan. Reflexively I reach one hand toward my center, determined to get something started, but Cole intercepts and presses me back onto the desk. He hooks his thumbs into my panties, pulling them down my legs and over my sandals. His thumb is back now, sans panties, and it’s sooo much better.
“Yes.”
I’m watching Cole as his eyes are fixed on where he’s rubbing my clit with his thumb. He looks wild. Like a man ready to eat. He probably is hungry. I did interrupt our dinner. In case we forgot where we are, I hear the noises of a busy restaurant kitchen just outside the door. The clink of glasses being stacked, the sizzle of oil in a pan, and voices.
“Do you know how hard I am right now looking at you spread out on this desk? Your gorgeous pussy wet and swollen. Ready for me. How turned on I am by the fact that you can’t even make it through dinner without needing me to touch you.”
I like Cole’s words, but I really want his mouth doing something other than talking.
“Cole. Please, I need you to…”
I trail off when Cole lowers to his knees, his warm breath against my wet center causes a cool sensation and now I think I might come before he even gets his mouth on me. Then he’s there. Exactly what I wanted. Needed. Long strokes down the center followed by a swirl and a suck on my clit. My arms are shaky, and I’m fearful that when my orgasm hits they’ll give out and I’ll bang my head on the desk, so I let my arms slide to the side so I can lower the rest of my back and head onto the desk.
There’s another sweep of his tongue before one long finger slides into me. I nearly weep with joy. The sensation is overwhelming. My whole body is like a live wire, every nerve alert, every muscle tense with anticipation of release.
It’s sensation overload as Cole adds a second finger and sucks on my clit. I know I’m making noise. Groans and moans, mostly incoherent sounds, but I’m still aware of where we are. My hips buck and I cover my mouth with my arm so I don’t scream. When my orgasm rips through me it’s an intense tidal wave of sensation. My muscles pulse around Cole’s fingers, trying to suck them in further, and if I thought I was wet before, that was nothing compared to the mess between my thighs now.
Once my orgasm subsides, I remove my forearm from my mouth and blow out a breath. My eyes reopen and I can’t help the ear-to-ear smile that takes over my face.
“Holy shit.”
Cole is standing over me now. He pulls the hem of my dress back down and reaches for my hands to help pull me up. It does occur to me that although we both got off the first night when we had sex, I’ve been greedy, and this is the second occasion where I’ve come without even touching him. The goal had been my orgasm, but with that accomplished, I want to touch him.
My hand reaches out to palm Cole’s hard length, but he gently guides my hand back to my side.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have you on your knees later.”
His words come out in a husky growl, and my mouth waters with anticipation. He’s such a gentleman. I don’t know if I should swoon or pout. I barely got to suck his dick the first night. I only got in a few licks before he took control and then he was inside me. It’s something I’m looking forward to. Also, I’m excited that he still wants to have sex later. That he wasn’t completely freaked out by my need to get off in the middle of dinner.
“Our food should be out shortly. Why don’t you go clean up in the ladies room and I’ll meet you at the table?”
I nod. “Okay.”
I grab my purse off the chair and reach for the doorknob.
“Brooke?”
When I turn back Cole has my underwear in his hand, extended out to me. “I won’t be able to focus at dinner if I know you’re not wearing any underwear.”
“Oh. I actually have another pair in my purse.”
But then I take the underwear, because they’re expensive and because I don’t think Cole wants my wet panties in his pocket at dinner.
23
Cole
After a few minutes in the office alone, thinking about my Grandma Ruth to calm my erection, I use the men’s room to wash my hands, then make my way back to our table. That was certainly a first. I’ve never had to stop mid-dinner to pleasure my date because she wasn’t going to make it through the date without an orgasm. Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman like Brooke. And the fact that she said she had an extra pair of underwear in her purse? Is that a thing? Women do have a different anatomy than men that requires different hygiene practices. She was so wet; it had been difficult to not pull out my dick and rub all over her. If I didn’t have any self-control, I would have let her suck me off in the office, but I want to wait until we can take our time. We’ve got all night. And tomorrow. And any other day I can pin her down for.
While I wait for Brooke, my thoughts return to weeks ago when I ran into her at the fertility clinic. After I fingered her and she ran off again, I hadn’t given much thought to why she was there that day, but more that I couldn’t figure out what she was about. While it’s an ego boost that she is always wet and needy around me, my experience with women with elevated hormone levels tells me that it’s highly possible that Brooke is on hormones for one reason or another. That her need for me to touch her in the middle of dinner is less about me and possibly more about hormones coursing through her body. I could ask her about it, but I don’t want to scare her off. Reproductive health isn’t always the best topic for a first date, and I don’t want to throw a wrench in our evening by making her uncomfortable. I want to enjoy our time together and get to know her better. Hopefully to the point that she will share something like that with me on her own.
I watch as Brooke makes her way down the corridor by the kitchen and back toward our table. I enjoy watching her approach, noticing every little detail. Her wavy brown hair cascading over her bare shoulders, her long, toned legs striding out, and the way her dress swings around her hips as she moves. Expressive green eyes, sweet pink lips and the tiny freckle near her mouth all make me realize that I’m the one who is going to be uncomfortably shifting in my seat for the rest of the meal. If Brooke’s dress was meant to torture me, it’s doing its job. Even the delicate chain around her slender neck seems strategically placed to make me think of kissing her in that tender spot along her collarbone. And now, maybe only because I know what I did to her in the office, I notice a flush of color in her cheeks, a post-orgasm glow, and the expression in her green eyes is relaxed, content, sated. At least for the moment. I keep my focus on her face, knowing that thinking about anything below her neck might have me pulling her into the back room again.
