Page 18 of Sinister Games

The next course arrived. I bowed my head and hid behind my curtain of hair the entire time the staff lingered over our table. My ears strained to hear a snicker or snide remark.

There was nothing. They were complete professionals, acting as if my underwear weren’t sitting there right between the wineglasses!

After they left and I dared to peek up, I noticed the next course was fried zucchini blossoms. They looked divine and soon my nervousness over the panty game was forgotten.

Richard sliced off a piece from the top and raised his fork to my lips. “Open your mouth.”

My lips opened for him. The delicately salted petals of the flower hit my tongue before the tang of warm, gooey cheese. He sliced off another piece and held it just out of reach of my lips.

“Do you want another bite?”

“Yes,” I breathed, knowing I wasn’t answering a question about the food.

This man enthralled me. There was no other explanation for it. His confidence and the way he took control was intoxicating.

“Then open your legs for me.”

Not even thinking twice, I slid my legs wider, feeling the change from warm leather to cool as I shifted in the seat.

“Wider.”

I obeyed. My knees were spread so wide, I had to grip the seat and lean back.

Richard tilted the fork into my mouth.

I ate every bite he offered, the entire time hoping he would touch me, run those large hands of his over my thighs and between my legs. I needed him to touch me.

Finally, the dessert course arrived. The sexual torture of this dinner was almost over.

Yoghurt with honey and a halved pomegranate.

Richard dipped his finger into the creamy Greek yoghurt and lifted it to my mouth. No longer caring who was watching, I eagerly sucked the honeyed sweetness, making sure to swirl my tongue around the tip.

His answering growl was my reward.

Apparently two could play at this game.

Like a baby bird, I tilted my head back and eagerly opened my mouth for the next bite. This time he took a spoon and drizzled honey straight into my mouth, making sure to coat my lips.

“Lick them.”

My tongue shot out to lick the gooey liquid sugar from my lips, all the while holding his intense gaze.

“Did you know the fruit Eve ate was a pomegranate, not an apple?” he asked casually as he pried a few seeds away from their bright crimson bed.

“I didn’t,” I responded just as casually as if we were chatting about the weather or the latest Netflix binge watch.

Holding one seed up, Richard traced the outline of my lips, dying them a brighter pink. “Touch yourself while I feed you pomegranate seeds, my little bird.”

For the briefest of moments, I thought about using my right hand, the one facing the windows and main dining room, but I wasn’t quite that brazen yet. Inching my fingers under the hem and along my inner thigh, I traced the seam with the tips.

Richard placed a pomegranate seed on my tongue. The tart sweetness somehow highlighted my pleasure.

He held another seed up. “So essentially you are eating the original fruit of temptation.”

I sucked the tips of his fingers as I took the next seed.

“Push a finger inside yourself.”

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