Page 81 of Eyes in the Shadows

“Uh, people like our lychee martini.” The green hair gets a flip and, though she moves to turn towards Eleanor, she doesn’t look right at her.

“Sounds delicious, I’ll have that.”

“Someone will be right with you.” With one last glance my way, she leaves.

“Girlfriend?” Eleanor asks, cocking her head.

I chuckle, lifting her hand to my lips. “Doesn’t feel like quite the right word, does it? I thought about calling you Mrs. Thomas, but that’s not my name and that finger doesn’t have my ring.” Yet.

Her chest heaves a huge breath and her cheeks turn pink as she retracts her hand. “Wait, Thomas? That was my grandfather’s name. Did you—”

I grin and pick up the menu. “So, what do we have here?”

With a little tinkling laugh, Eleanor opens her own book and stares down. After a minute or so, she sighs. “It all sounds so amazing. I would seriously order everything on this menu—it’s going to be really hard to choose.”

A few minutes later, our waiter comes to the table. He makes some small talk, takes our drink orders and I hand him my menu. “We’ll just have one of everything.”

Eleanor’s mouth pops open. “Wh—” she starts, staring at me blankly.

The waiter, too, is dumbfounded. “Really?”

I just nod.

“Any allergies? Special requests?”

I look at Eleanor, and, still making a surprised face, she shakes her head. The waiter grins. “So cool, I can’t wait to tell the Chef. I’ll have the appetizers out as they’re ready.”

He leaves and I sit back in my chair. Her surprise has melted into something else and she’s biting her lip as she looks at me. “You’re spoiling me.”

“That’s the plan. I do love spoiling my girl.”

She shifts on her chair and, between that and her face flushing I realize that she’s getting a little turned on. “I guess I just thought I was too… um, unremarkable?”

I laugh and lean forward in my chair so she’ll still hear me when I lower my voice. “Eleanor, are you trying to ask for a spanking?”

“Maybe?” she bites her lip again and looks down.

“See, that’s the problem with bratting,” I shake my head. “You think you can say the right thing and get me to do what you want, but you’re playing with fire. Me? I don’t like brats. I like good girls who do what they’re told. So, the more infractions, the harsher the punishment. It’s only a gentle warning the first time.”

She inhales sharply and glances around, checking to ensure that no one is close enough to hear. She leans forward, mirroring me, and this time when the dip in adress presents me with a perfect, deep view of cleavage, I look. The roundness of her breasts spilling out the middle of a black lace bra is hypnotic. “How do I ask for a spanking, then?”

I groan, barely resisting the urge to pull her in. Especially when I feel her foot on my calf, rubbing up and down. “You say, ‘Mac, have I been a good girl?’ and you let me decide if you deserve it.”

I watch her work the swallow down her throat and lick her lips. “Mac, have I been a good girl?”

My dick twitches and I grin. “Absolutely fucking not.” It’s going to be torture, sitting three feet from her and not touching her, and I decide I need her to feel it too, even when she’s overwhelmed by what is sure to be an incredible meal. “But you can do something to help your case. Take your panties off and give them to me.”

“What, here?” Her eyes go wide and she sits back. She glances to the side that’s open to the rest of the restaurant, then down at the long tablecloth obscuring both of our legs, assessing the likelihood that someone will see her do it.

“Right here, right now. Better decide quickly, too. The appetizers will probably start coming out soon.”

It only takes her another heartbeat to choose. She wriggles in the seat, trying to keep her movements subtle and not jostle the table. The cloth moves over her lap and she curves her back as her hands slide the material down her legs.

“Ma’am, your martini.” Someone different than our waiter steps around the plants and deposits a frosty glass in front of Eleanor.

Her face has drained of color other than the two bright red spots at the top of each cheek. “Thanks,” she whispers, sounding caught and mortified.

I grab his attention so she can finish her task, wherever she’s paused in it. “Excuse me? I’ll take one of those, too, it looks good. Though I don’t need the lychee at the bottom. Can you do that?”

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