Page 99 of Naughty Nelle

I swallowed hard. Or any panties. I was too aroused to say anything.

“I hope you’re as hungry as I am.”

“I’m famished,” I squeaked. Suddenly, I was craving a heaping portion of his cock. My stomach emitted an embarrassing growl.

He responded with that amused smile while his hand glided back up my leg and made its way under my little black dress. His middle finger toyed with my magic button that turned on the heat. I was getting hot. Very hot. And very wet.

“You’re salivating. You must be starving.”

I bit down on my glossed lips to suppress a moan.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.

Hesitantly, I parted my lips. Removing his hand from between my thighs, he slid his middle finger, wet with my sex, across my tongue.

“Just a small taste of what’s to come.” A roguish glint danced in his eyes.

Never having tasted myself before, I had to steady the wine in my hand at the unexpected experience as shock and pleasure flowed through my body. Every nerve in my body was buzzing. I feared one way or another I was going to end up with a large, wet stain on my new black dress if we didn’t get to the restaurant soon.

The limo turned north on Third and shortly after pulled up behind a cab in front of The Palm. The driver got out and our door swung open. Ari gracefully slid out and I followed, aided by his hand. My stomach rumbled again. I really was hungry.

Inside, The Palm was a noisy, bustling restaurant with white-clothed tables and a colorful array of caricatures of well-known celebrities lining the walls. As we walked toward the check-in area, a jovial heavyset man, with half-moon glasses, greeted my companion with a warm handshake.

“Good to see you, Mr. Golden. Your regular table is waiting for you.”

So now, I knew Trainman’s full name. Ari Golden. Fitting for the golden-haired warrior. Later tonight, I would google him and find out everything there was to know.

Holding my hand, Ari followed an attractive, mini-skirted hostess who kept looking back at him, past the jammed bar and table after table of chicly dressed couples and businessmen devouring monstrous lobsters. I managed to keep up on my heels and again prayed I wouldn’t do something embarrassing like breaking my ankle in front of all these rich people.

Several striking, well-dressed women stopped Ari along the way, eyeing me curiously. Ari politely acknowledged each of them with a quick smile and a nod. Former strangers on a train?

The circular booth to which we were led was in the far corner of the restaurant. It could easily accommodate four more people, but we had it all to ourselves. I slid all the way into it expecting Ari to sit across from me, but much to my surprise, he positioned himself practically next to me. In fact, he was so close to me, I could feel his heat. My heart pounded.

A waiter came by and Ari ordered for the two of us: two Manhattans, Caesar salads, and a four-pound lobster to share.

I was happy when the Manhattans arrived at our table. I still felt super-nervous being with this intimidating man. I didn’t know what to talk about. I took several consecutive gulps of the drink. The chilled, velvety liquid, another first, went down smoothly and loosened me up. A little.

Twirling his Manhattan cherry by the stem, Ari eased into conversation.

“Sarah is a beautiful name. It means ‘princess’ in Hebrew.”

My mother had told me that once, but I was the last thing from being a princess. Tomboy, geek, plain Jane, yes. But definitely not a princess.

“Thanks,” I said in a tone that was more dubious than flattered.

He plucked the cherry from his drink and flicked it with his tongue. “I’ve seen you a few times before at 30th Street Station.”

I gulped. Had he been spying on me?

He popped the cherry into his mouth and swallowed as my mind whirled with unsettling thoughts. He’d stalked me?

“Were you visiting someone there?”

I nervously nodded.

“Oh, a boyfriend?”

“No, my mom,” I replied, taken aback by his question and his confrontational tone. “She’s being treated for cancer at Penn’s medical center.”

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