Page 101 of Naughty Nelle

He quirked a pleased smile. “Do you have room for dessert?”

“Yes,” I said with a nod.

“Great. They have the best crème brûlée here.”

“Can’t wait,” I replied, having no clue what this concoction was. Secretly, I wanted to skip it and longed for him to take me home or to wherever he lived and fuck our brains out. Even the back of his limo would do. So turned on, I was craving him inside me.

In no time, our waiter, whose name was Mario, came back to clear the table, and Ari ordered the dessert. Again, a single portion for us to share. As Mario took off, Ari picked up a teaspoon and began playing with it.

“Can you do this?”

My eyes stayed on him as he put the spoon to his perfect manly nose and balanced it on the tip. I giggled.

“Of course. Anyone can do that.”

He flashed another cocky smile. “Okay, let’s see you do it.”

With his eyes fixed on me, I silently lifted my spoon and repeated his actions. Eyes crossed, I gazed down to see the spoon dangling from my nose just like his.

He smirked. “Let’s have a contest and see who can keep the spoon on their nose the longest.”

“Fine.” My turn to smirk. My mother had taught me this trick when I was a little girl, and I’d mastered it, my upturned nose perfect for this balancing act. He had no clue who he was dealing with. Maybe I was clueless and insecure when it came to men, but when it came to games, I played to win.

“Okay. On your mark. Get set. Go!”

Over the next five minutes, we stared into each other’s eyes, our spoons dangling from our noses. I was ready to explode with laughter at the sight of this sex god with a spoon hanging from his nose and somehow, I also found it adorably sexy. Totally phallic. Not before long, everyone in this chi-chi restaurant was imitating us. I pointed this out to him, hoping he’d jerk his head to look around, and the spoon would fall off his nose. But no. He remained inert, staring straight into my eyes with stoic determination.

Damn. Him. He was making it so hard. Time to stir things up. I started making funny faces from rolling my eyes to making monster lips. But nothing distracted him from his mission to win. And then, high from the Manhattan and wine, I just blurted it out.

“I want you to fuck my brains out again.”

His eyes grew saucer-wide as he jolted against the booth. The spoon slipped off his nose, falling under the table.

“Shit!” he mumbled.

“Ha ha! I win!”

To the victor, belong the spoils.Another one of my favorite sayings. But I had no idea what was in store.

Ari looked at me mischievously. “Well, I guess you win the prize. Stay put. I’m going to retrieve the spoon.”

“I’m sure our waiter will bring you another,” I said, but it was too late. He was already sliding his glorious body under the table, and in no time, he disappeared.

Remembering my bare foot, I quickly wiggled my toes back into my shoe. But before I could set my heel down, a hand gripped my ankle and yanked my foot out. A soft, warm mouth descended on my big toe and sucked it feverishly. Tingles shot up my leg, all the way up to my crotch. Oh my God! Dessert had arrived.

Having enough of my big toe, he nibbled and sucked the rest of them, one at a time. Delicious pain followed by delicious pleasure. He then flexed my foot and moved his mouth to my heel. His tongue glided, like a slow rollercoaster across my high arch, making its way back to my toes. The sensation sent prickly goosebumps all over me. Who knew that the soles of my feet were so sensitive?

Holding my foot in his palms, his tongue continued its journey up my long, naked leg. The sensation was ticklish, yet strangely erotic. Arching my back, I squirmed. When he reached the top, his hands gripped my thighs, and with a firm yank, he spread my legs apart. Oh, God. Was the icing on the cake coming? My body stiffened in anticipation.

Hiking my dress up as high as it would go, he buried his face in my pussy. I could feel his rough stubble rub against my inner thighs as he sucked and nibbled my sensitive cleft. Then, his tongue took over. It figure skated across the surface of the fiery folds, performing all kinds of tricks from spins to figure eights until it landed on my aching clit, licking and flicking. I was falling apart, every bone in my body turning to jelly. His ever-so fit tongue stroked furiously as the pressure between my legs mounted. I wanted to scream! Squeezing my eyes shut, I bit down on my lips—Oh, please let me come!—and finally a hot burst of ecstasy gave me the relief I’d been craving.

Shuddering from the release, my head thrust back, I could only hope people weren’t staring at me. That famous line from the movie When Harry Met Sally flashed into my head: “I want what she’s having.” Yes, my golden-haired sex god had given me yet another delicious and enviable orgasm. And then I jolted again as he pressed something hard and cold against my flaming folds. The spoon! The shock of the sensation intensified the fire between my legs. Oh my God! I was coming again!

For a few moments, I think I lost consciousness or was transported to another planet.

“My princess…”

At the sound of his voice, I returned to reality. As I snapped open my eyes and began to recover, my Trainman re-emerged from under the table, holding the spoon in his hand.

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