Page 72 of Love on the Vine
When we descended into the dim interior of the cellar, I let the cool air dance over my sun-warmed skin and inhaled the comforting scent of old stones.
“So? What are you planning to do?” Olivia nudged me. Right, the new project. I’d already forgotten why we’d come down here and had been instead contemplating the best spot to kiss her.
When I pulled my phone out to show her the magazine article, she laughed. “I think you’re the only person I know who still has the factory settings for his screensaver.”
“Really? What kind of screensaver do most people have?” I asked, staring down at the 3-D kaleidoscope image on the phone.
“I don’t know. A photo of something or someone they like to look at every day. Something that inspires you, reminds you of who you are.”
I shrugged. “I don’t have a photo like that.”
I opened the article fromWine Spectatorwhere I’d seen the German collector’s high-tech cellar with custom shelves thatdisplayed his wines to their best advantage. “Something like this would be useful when receiving clients. I always do the tastings upstairs, but it makes more sense to have a room down here. There’s enough space, it’s just poorly conceived.”
I had a small table and two chairs down here, but rarely used them. I sat down in one and watched as Olivia walked around the space, running her fingertips over the bottles like she had the first time I’d taken her down here. Only this time, she didn’t touch them tentatively, but more like she owned them. She glanced back at me and gave me a coy smile.
“What?” I slid back in the chair and crossed my arms, studying her. I was getting very adept at staring at her and could do so for a shockingly long time.
“I was just thinking about the first time we came down here. I was nervous because I had such a huge a crush on you and imagined you kissing me here.” She sank back against the wall and peeked at me from beneath her lashes.
“I can do a lot more than kiss you here,” I warned, my body already pulsing. “You never told me you had a crush on me.”
“Wasn’t it terribly obvious when we first met?” She laughed. “I couldn’t remember my own name when I first saw you.”
“I thought it might have been early-onset dementia.” My lip twitched when her eyes shot daggers at me.
She bit her lip and played with her delicate gold necklace. “And then whenever I thought about you . . .”
“Yes, when did you think of me?” I urged her on.
“Let’s just say I thought about you at night in bed . . . a lot.”
“Tell me more.” I leaned back in my chair, eager to hear more, already at half-mast. “What would you do when you thought of me?”
“You know.” Her cheeks pinkened as she lost her nerve, but I wasn’t about to let her off the hook.
“No, I don’t. Show me.” My voice stuck in my throat.
She took a shaky breath and leaned back against the wall, one hand coming up to the thin strap of her sundress. Slowly, she caught it between her fingers, skimming it over her arm in a long, tempting reveal of one perfect full breast. My pulse thrummed in my ears as she gently fondled herself. “I would imagine your hands here and then your tongue.” She moistened her finger on her tongue then back down to her dusky nipple. She sighed out a little moan, and my mouth watered at the idea of replacing her fingers with my mouth.
“And then?” My eyes scanned down her body greedily. Her gaze met mine as both hands glided down her dress to lift it, inch by teasing inch.
“Then I would imagine your hands under my dress, sliding between my thighs.”
“Come over here so I can get a better view of that.” She perched on the table in front of me. I ached to touch her, but this was her fantasy, and I let her show me what she wanted. Kicking off her sandals, she placed a pointed foot on the chair between my legs like a dancer.
“Do you really want me to do this?” she whispered, her courage faltering.
“Baby, you have no idea.” I devoured her with my eyes. The rise in my pants painfully evident now as I rubbed my hand over myself to encourage her.
The edge of her dress barely covered the patch of pale blue lace covering her. “If I didn’t rip off those panties with my mouth in your fantasy, you weren’t doing it right.”
I had to stop myself from doing just that, from burying my face between her legs. She pushed the material aside, exposing her sweet flesh, glistening with arousal and ran her finger over her clit, gasping as she did so.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she worked her pussy, her wetness audible in the quiet of the cellar. I had to stop from throwing myself on my knees in front of her to get a taste.
Her other hand came back up to fondle her breast, pinching the nipple, and her back arched as she brought herself closer. “Did you ever think about me?” she panted.
“Only every fucking minute since you got here, your little top clinging to your tits. I wanted to push you down on the bed in the cottage, spread your legs and make you come on my tongue.” I undid the fly on my pants, took my shaft in my hand, ready to explode.
