Page 14 of Souvenir

“Her stage name is Sugar Plum.”

He frowned. “She’s a stripper?”

I nodded as the anger towards Kevin resurfaced. “For so many years he was screwing her, before we were even married,” I replied, unable to keep the venom from my voice.

“Then what is the problem? You enjoyed last night, no?”

“That’s not the point,” I said, my voice cracking a little. “You … I ….”

“Listen,” he said, leaning closer. “I am no escort, I am a man who finds you very attractive. You can walk out of here with the memories of our time together. We will not ask each other our names and will never see each other again…” he paused, his eyes dropping to my cleavage.

I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse quicken again. “Or?”

“We will have lunch, officially introduce ourselves … or not … and then I can take you back to my hotel and show you how much more I can do with this tongue.”

He ended by sticking out and wiggling his tongue. I couldn’t help the laughter that sprang from my lips. He was funny as much as he was sexy and the way he was looking at me made me want to feel those lips on my breasts and that tongue on my clit.

“I feel that your husband suppressed your sexual fantasies,” he said, bringing back a soberness to the conversation. “I bet he never talked dirty to you, probably insisting you keep quiet during sex. I bet he never told you just how beautiful you were or how sweet you tasted. Did I tell you how I enjoyed licking your pussy and how wild you drove me last night?”

“Stop,” I hoarsely commanded.

The man couldn’t be tamed, his hand was now creeping up under my skirt, sending heat up my thigh. I gasped as I felt his fingers brushed my vagina. Even though I was wearing panties, the heat from his fingers scorched me.

“I bet you’ve never done it in public either,” he rasped. “He’d never think of grabbing your pussy in a restaurant full of people and do this. His lips were on my neck, making their way up my cheeks.

“What are you doing?” I panted. “We’re in a restaurant.”

“No one is watching us. They are all engrossed in their own romance.”

“Who are you?”

Gently placing a finger on my chin, he urged me to look at him. His lips came close to mine. “Now we are getting somewhere,” he whispered. “But I will only tell you after I kiss you.”

Before I could protest, his lips were on mine. It was a gentle yet searing kiss that sent ripples of pleasure coursing through me. He was right, Kevin would never do this in public. When we made love it was without talking. I enjoyed it, but it was never wild. He never told me that he loved the feel of my pussy around his cock and he never told me he loved going down on me.

This man was evoking feelings that had remained dormant, fantasies that I never thought I’d experience. I wanted to do it all. I wanted the cheap dirty talk, I wanted to have sex in that restaurant and I wanted …

The kiss broke and he leaned back in his chair. “Shall we eat or shall we return to the hotel?”

I wasn’t hungry, not for food anyway and I had already done the dirty deed with him once. What harm was there in doing it again now that I knew he wasn’t an escort?

“Hotel,” I found myself whispering.

“First, we introduce ourselves,” he said. “No secrets, no inhibitions.”

“Who are you?”

“Marcello Lombardi.”

Why did the name sound so familiar? Wines? Yes, that was it.

“You’re Lombardi Wines?”

“The very same.”

“I’m Savannah McKenna, Interior Designer.”

“Pleased to finally meet you.”

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