"Wear the dress," he said. "No panties."
She did. And now they were at dinner-crowded restaurant, low lighting, white tablecloths Her legs were crossed tight under the table, trying to hide the way she was still wet.
His hand slid between her thighs casually, fork in the other.
"You're soaked," he murmured, voice Low
"From earlier?"
She nodded, cheeks red.
He smiled. "Open your legs."
His fingers slipped lower, gliding through her folds—exploring, teasing. She was slick and warm beneath his touch, every nerve drawn tight with anticipation.
His fingers, sliding with ease against her heat. He found her clit and began to circle it—slow, lazy strokes that made her thighs twitch.
When he pressed gently, her breath hitched, and her thighs parted just a little more in silent invitation.
He slipped one finger inside—slow, deliberate. Then another.
Her hand flew to the tablecloth, fingers curling into the fabric as she struggled to keep her expression composed. The candlelight flickered, casting golden shadows over her flushed cheeks.
Inside her, his fingers moved with slow confidence, curling just enough to make her gasp before stilling again, forcing her to feel every inch of the build.
“No panties,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear. “This is what that means.”
Careful,” he warned, a slow smile playing at his lips. “You don’t want to knock over your water.”
She couldn’t speak—didn’t trust herself to.
He withdrew his hand, lifted it to his mouth, and licked his fingers one after another.
“Delicious,” he said. “ This is my dessert”
She did. And now they were at dinner-crowded restaurant, low lighting, white tablecloths Her legs were crossed tight under the table, trying to hide the way she was still wet.
His hand slid between her thighs casually, fork in the other.
"You're soaked," he murmured, voice Low
"From earlier?"
She nodded, cheeks red.
He smiled. "Open your legs."
His fingers slipped lower, gliding through her folds—exploring, teasing. She was slick and warm beneath his touch, every nerve drawn tight with anticipation.
His fingers, sliding with ease against her heat. He found her clit and began to circle it—slow, lazy strokes that made her thighs twitch.
When he pressed gently, her breath hitched, and her thighs parted just a little more in silent invitation.
He slipped one finger inside—slow, deliberate. Then another.
Her hand flew to the tablecloth, fingers curling into the fabric as she struggled to keep her expression composed. The candlelight flickered, casting golden shadows over her flushed cheeks.
Inside her, his fingers moved with slow confidence, curling just enough to make her gasp before stilling again, forcing her to feel every inch of the build.
“No panties,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her ear. “This is what that means.”
Careful,” he warned, a slow smile playing at his lips. “You don’t want to knock over your water.”
She couldn’t speak—didn’t trust herself to.
He withdrew his hand, lifted it to his mouth, and licked his fingers one after another.
“Delicious,” he said. “ This is my dessert”
