Page 110 of Rome: The Ballerina

Her pussy was slippery. I could smell it from across the table. It was beckoning for me. For my tongue. For my lips. For my time. For my attention.

“Tasted you?”

She shook her head. Rapid, yet slow blinks followed. I’d bet my last dollar she’d ruined the thong she wore. There was no way it would survive the night still clinging to the crack of her ass. I wouldn’t stand for it. That place belonged to my tongue.

“No.”

I peered at her, unblinkingly. She was honest with her answers. I didn’t detect a lie and I doubted she’d tell one, either.

She is my final destination.

I lifted my right hand to my face, unable to comprehend the blessing I’d been sent straight from the Man, himself. My hand slid down my face, trying to wrap my head around the new information she’d shared. I couldn’t continue in this fashion. I wouldn’t continue in this fashion.

“I’m sorry, Rome–”

The defeat on her face made my stomach turn. While she assumed I was about to break her heart, I was trying my hardestto focus on not breaking her in half. She’d awaken the beast, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to contain him on water and food alone. He wanted something more potent. More promising. He wantedher.

“Sac–”

“I’m sorry you’ve never felt the pleasure you are long overdue for. I’m sorry you haven’t reached that paramount place of womanhood without the help of something battery operated or–self. And, most of all, I’m sorry that I can’t fathom having food without having you.

“You’re the only thing I care to eat at this moment. Maybe I’ll be able to digest food after I’ve digested you. Penetration won’t be the pinnacle of our night. Your pussy– in my mouth, on my chin, on my nose will be.

“When you’re ready, I’ll have you. But, tonight, I’m going to taste you. And, you’re gonna cum– on this very night. On my face. On my fingers. Wherever you’d like. I just need you to tell me one thing, Rome–”

Batting her lashes, she swallowed hard before asking, “Yes?”

“How hungry are you?”

“Famished,” she breathed out, referring to her desire for intimacy.

“For food, Rome. How hungry are you? I’d hate to be irresponsible and not feed you before I take your body to heights it’s never reached. So, tell me, how hungry are you?”

“I’m not. I ate before I came.”

I figured. It was something many women did before dates so they could spend their time questioning a man rather than eating. And, just in case things went astray, they wanted to make sure their bellies were satisfied regardless.

The instant her sentence came to a halt, I was up from my seat and snapping my fingers. I circled it once and whistled to get the staff’s attention from across the room. Within the nextfew seconds, feet were scurrying across the floor and the echoing emptiness of the place was almost as loud as the heartbeat between Rome’s legs.

I should take her here. I considered.

“As a matter of fact Rome–” I paused, “There has been a change of plans.”

“Mm hm,” she all but moaned.

Her hands were shaking. Her bottom lip was tucked into her mouth. Her hips were grinding into the seat. Shewasfamished.

“I won’t be able to make it out of this establishment without having a taste of you.”

I snatched the napkin from underneath my silverware. They fell onto the table, crashing loudly. The sound of them colliding startled her.

“Do you understand me, Rome?” I asked, stuffing the napkin in my shirt.

She was a lost girl, peering around the restaurant as if she’d lost someone. She would, eventually. She’d lose the woman she was when she walked in. She wouldn’t walk out the same person. Her life would be changed forever tonight. There was no doubt in my mind.

“Do you understand, Rome?”

She nodded.

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