She slides her purse on the back of her chair, sits and takes a sip of her wine all in one swift motion.
“Are you good?”
She smiles then sweeps a stray hair out of her face, and fuck me, she’s perfect.
“So good.”
Since I notified our waiter that we were ready to continue our meal when I finished in the men’s room, the next course arrives shortly after Brooke.
As we eat, the conversation flows from jobs to school, hobbies to favorite places to work out, restaurants that we’ve tried and ones we want to try, where we’ve traveled and what’s on our bucket list. Brooke likes the bacon-wrapped dates, and I like the calamari. We both love the spiced beef empanadas, so we battle it out to see who gets the odd third piece. Brooke snatches it up while I’m telling her about med school. I mean did I even stand a chance?
I can tell Brooke is more relaxed after her mid-meal orgasm. She’s more at ease, less anxious.
At the end of the meal, Evan stops by our table to say hi.
“Brooke, this is Evan, my friend, and the chef and owner.”
Knowing what I’ve told him about my interactions with Brooke, I hope that Evan is going to play it cool, but with the way he’s looking between us and smiling, that hope is quickly lost.
He shakes Brooke’s hand and smiles, “Well, Brooke, I’m glad you finally put my buddy here out of his misery.”
Brooke’s eyes go wide. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, he was pretty bummed that you kept running out on him.” Evan pretends to whisper behind his hand to Brooke. “Between you and me, I think his ego could use some deflation.”
When her gaze moves from Evan to me, her lips pinch together, doing that thing she does when she’s thinking.
“Good for you, man.” He squeezes my shoulder, then returns to the kitchen. I can’t even be embarrassed, it’s all true. Nothing I wouldn’t tell Brooke myself. I want her to know that I like her. That I want to spend time with her and get to know her.
Our waiter brings out dessert, Spanish flan, on the house. Brooke takes a forkful in her mouth, licking the caramel sauce off her fork before resting it back on the plate.
“Well, you’ve got me now,” she smiles seductively, “what are you going to do with me?”
24
Brooke
When we get to Cole’s place, we’re not even two feet in the door before he drops my bag and pulls me to him. A second later, his lips are on mine. My body immediately lights up with his touch. I love the way his firm hands grip my hips as he steers me backward toward his bedroom, his mouth never leaving mine. Yes. This is what I’ve been waiting for.
We’re all groping hands and fevered kisses until the backs of my legs hit the bed and I drop to the mattress. My purse falls off my shoulder and hits the floor. Cole has my dress off a minute after that. I’m learning that the speed with which he takes my clothes off is not indicative of his pace during foreplay. He is impatient with clothing, but very patient and attentive once I’m naked. Almost painfully so. When Cole’s mouth covers my nipple and he adds the slightest amount of suction, it’s a straight shot to my clit.
“Ahhh.” The sensitivity in my boobs is unreal. They’re achy from the hormones and when Cole touches them, it feels like I want to slap his hand away while simultaneously pressing further into it.
“I remember how much I liked playing with these.” He circles my hardened nipple with the pad of his thumb.
That’s when I remember the spermicide film that Dr. Yang gave me. The second form of birth control I need to use. Ugh. Lying on this heavenly bed letting Cole have his way with me, I almost forgot. When Cole is touching me it’s easy to forget about everything else.
I press up into him, our lips tangle for a hot second before I break the kiss.
“I need to use the bathroom real quick.”
“Sure.” He helps me up, and I grab my purse off the floor. I’m naked except for a lacy thong, and Cole watches me, unabashed from the bed with hungry eyes the whole way to the bathroom.
The bathroom feels ten degrees cooler, whether that is because of the tile floor, my lack of clothes or the loss of Cole’s delicious body heat on me, or maybe all three. I’m about to search for a towel to cover up with when I spy Cole’s bathrobe hanging on a hook by the glass shower. It’s gray and soft and smells like Cole’s aftershave. I wonder if I would be able to fit it in my bag.
Cole’s bathroom is huge. I could probably fit half of my apartment in it. It has a large, glass walk-in shower and a separate soaking tub. The toilet is separated from the rest of the room with a pocket door. The vanity lights are square, opaque glass in a row of three above each sink. The mirror covers the entire wall, and there are two sinks surrounded by white quartz countertop, with dark wood cabinets beneath. Each sink is designed to have a cabinet and three different sized drawers in the middle of the vanity.
I roll up Cole’s gaping robe sleeves, then get down to business. After reading the directions, I realize maybe I should have looked at them earlier. It says you should insert it at least fifteen minutes before sex. Now, I’m going to have to sit in the bathroom for the next fifteen minutes and hope that Cole doesn’t think I’m taking a shit. Or oral will likely be off the table. That gets me thinking, will this strip make me taste different? I’m kind of curious, but how would I bring that conversation up? Hey, Cole, did you notice any flavor differences between eating me out on the desk in the office at the restaurant and now? Just curious if the spicy beef empanadas added extra flavor.
