Page 41 of Without Regret

“Like a date?”

Instead of picking up on my panicked words, he shrugged. “Call it whatever you want. It’s two people eating dinner together and having a cocktail or two while conversating outside of the bedroom.”

Right. I could do that. “Sure. Let me get cleaned up.”

***

We were seated at a table for two across from one another at a local Italian place. I’d never been there, but he’d found it well rated on his phone, and we decided to try it. He was dressed in jeans and a collared shirt while I’d chosen a simple black dress and heels.

This felt like a date. We looked like a couple. And it made me want to puke.

“You okay?” he asked, appearing concerned over the top of his menu.

“I don’t know.” I was being honest even at the risk of offending him.

He arched a brow and set his menu to the side. If he took my hands across the table, I would probably bolt. Luckily, he simply smirked. “Is this too weird for you?”

I sighed. “A little out of my element. Yes.”

He leaned closer, forcing me to do so as well in order to catch his whispered words. “Would it help if I told you to go to the ladies’ room and take off your panties? I want to picture you sitting there bare across from me, getting wet at the thought of me sliding deep into your pussy after we’re done with dinner.”

His words took me aback, but yes, yes it did help. I could already feel my pulse start to quicken and was completely distracted from anything but the anticipation of later. “I’ll be right back.”

I excused myself to the loo where I made quick work out of stripping off my thong and putting it into my purse. Good grief, I was already wet for him. I was tempted to give myself a release, but the thought of waiting through dinner held more appeal.

We made small talk throughout the meal, which turned out to be rather easy because Trevor was a funny guy. I found myself relaxing, too, after a couple of glasses of wine. Maybe the key was going commando, which served as a reminder this was all about sex. It might feel like a date, but at the end of it I’d be back on solid ground and staying in the ‘physical only’ box.

As soon as I was seated in his truck—to which he opened my door like a gentleman—the vibe changed. I was pleasantly surprised when, after climbing into the driver’s seat, he immediately took charge.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded starting up the big truck and glancing over.

I did as he asked, not waiting for his next instruction but reaching under my dress to touch myself.

“Did I say you could touch yourself? Show me first.”

There was something deliciously on edge in his voice. Not for the first time, I enjoyed it when Trevor went alpha.

I flipped up my dress as he was backing out of the space. We were a couple miles away from the flat.

“Touch yourself now. Let me hear how wet you are.”

I moved my fingers down, tracing my piercing and then going deeper, spreading the wetness I found gathered there back up to my piercing. I didn’t masturbate often, but when I did, it was normally with my vibrator and not my own hand. But his active participation made the activity innately sensual.

“Give me your finger. Let me taste you.”

I held it out, feeling my entire body come alive when his tongue swirled the tip, and then his lips sucked it clean from bottom to top. “Fuck. You taste good.”

I don’t remember the ride home, between playing with myself and giving him forbidden tastes, but as soon as the truck turned off, he was on me. Frantic lips met mine in a kiss so carnal it could almost make me climax from it alone.

“Jesus, Em. Let’s get upstairs before we give everyone a show.”

I don’t think I would’ve minded. Not that I was an exhibitionist, but damn, the man made me forget anything but him. He took my hand, leading me onto the sidewalk where I had a hard time keeping up in my heels.

Deciding not to let my shoes slow us down, he scooped me up caveman style over his shoulder, not breaking stride as he took the steps like a man on a mission.

“Shit,” he cursed, fishing for his key.

“What is it?”

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