Choosing Her Lover

Chapter 7

The restaurant Ben chooses is beautiful. It’s not huge and not overly expensive, but the food is excellent, and he has booked us a niche where we are very private.

Soft music drifts around us, and the staff are lovely; all smiles and courtesy as they bring the food and wine before they vanish discreetly while we eat.

A couple of hours comes and then goes, drifting by in a pleasant mix of chit-chat, good food, and better wine.

As we finish the coffee, Ben says, “Can I walk you home again?”

“Of course you can.”

We stroll through the dark streets, the summer air warm and fragrant. Ben slips his fingers into mine and we stroll along, holding hands.

On the doorstep, he hovers and then, without asking, embraces me. Unlike the first time on my doorstep, he does not hold back. His kiss is deep and passionate, one hand knotting into my hair. His pupils are wide, and through his chest, his heart hammers through to mine.

Oh my God. He’s in love with me….

This can’t be right. It’s too soon….

But pussy is calling. I want a man inside me.

He breaks away from the kiss, then simply stands, holding me close, his head resting over mine. “Kirstie….”

Should I do this? Is it fair to him?

Torn as to what is right, and what right now I want, I vacillate.

“Kirstie, can I come in?”

He wants me. He really wants me….

“Yes, you can come in.”

kiss my cheek.

by the hand, take him upstairs

that I have not seen him smile before, some of his grimness

should

a coffee?” I ask. “Or a glass of

“Wine sounds good.”

yourself comfortable.” I wave towards the settee, but he doesn’t sit, instead checking over my cd’s.

there that you like. White or

“Red, please.”

returning to the lounge just in time to hear K D Lang’s ‘Constant

Interesting choice….

Ben. He sips it politely, but his eyes don’t leave mine, and I feel that he is very much tasting the wine simply

for wine,” he says, and his arms slide around me again at waist and

spine, along the nape of my neck and into my hair. His kiss is deep, demanding almost. He smells deeply masculine

breast, almost but not quite, cupping. “Kirstie?” His voice is rough,

my hand over his and

fingers squeeze into my breast and his breath grows ragged.

I am doing, dissolve into a haze of lust as my core wells hot. I want this man now. I want him in

my blouse, reaching inside and upwards, then stymied by the tightness of

Asking permission?

starts to unbutton my blouse. Bending close, he kisses the rounded tops of my breasts, then

the air wafts across my skin, my nipples tighten and crinkle. He fastens his mouth around one, suckling gently as he works the other between thumb and forefinger,

of my skirt, slipping upwards and inwards to stroke my thighs, and I whimper as my pussy quivers. He reaches further, a finger slipping

at the ceiling for

“Jeez….” he mutters.

up, and glancing around the room, nods

“Bedroom?” he queries.

“Yes.” I smile.

bed. And now, he smiles properly. It’s a big smile, lighting up his face and eyes, transforming his features, and it stays there as he strips off shirt, shoes and trousers. Seeing him clearly for the first time, he’s a good-looking man, well built, his muscles

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