Choosing Her Lover

Chapter 36

*****

The performance over, and….

Did I see any of that….?

“I booked us a table at Luigi’s,” he says. “Is that alright? You like Italian?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good. I made sure we would have a nice, intimate little spot, away from the eyes of the crowd.”

?????

What the hell’s he planning now?

The table is indeed ‘intimate’, tucked into a corner, away from the main body of the restaurant, and screened off by a wooden lattice and potted palms. We are, in a sense, visible from the main restaurant, but only to someone looking closely in.

We sit together, he holding out my chair to seat me. I’m unused to this kind of courtesy, but am beginning to take it for granted from Ryan.

What I have not started to take for granted is….

“They do a pesto spaghetti which is particularly good,” he remarks. “The basil grows in their own gardens at the back, and they make the pesto themselves.”

“You sound as though you know them well?”

“My mother is related to the chef.”

“You’re Italian?”

“Part Italian.”

“And the other part?”

“With a name like Dougherty? The other half’s Irish.”

“Who am I to argue with an Irish pasta expert? I’ll have the pesto spaghetti.” I say to the waiter.

“And I’ll have the same.”

The meal is, as promised, delicious, and I whirl coils of pasta around my fork. Sucking in the tail-end of one forkful, I startle as, below the table-cloth, my thighs are penetrated once more.

voice is

brilliantly green noodles. He glances around our cubicle. “I like it here,” he says. “I told the waiters to give us plenty

and through my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers plunge deep, rubbing at

by the earthquake in my flesh, I judder against the penetrating,

it. Enjoy your food, but I want you good and expectant

is unfurling as he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to my clit. My hips quake

muscles all the while “You’re still not coming yet. But this is your last appetiser. You

that, he pulls free, wiping his hand on the

his mouth with the napkin, talking behind it. “You’re drenched, Kirstie. Wonderful. How’s your

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

bridge from the

so far out,” I

agrees, “but it’s a lovely evening

feeling warm and happy; tingling with arousal and the pleasant anticipation

spot because I’m going to bend you over the bonnet, and fuck

just hear

I say, halting and turning to

to the car, I’m going to

panic. “But we’re parked in a public place.”

You can see out, but they can’t see in. And besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if I understand aright, you’ve often fucked in the clubs with an audience, and

in the clubs.

sun chance to go down, because that’s what’s

at the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

and well away from any street lights. The setting

me.

hammering and pussy aching, I obey

the car and bend forward, hands

lie over the bonnet, still warm from the

are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs

inserting. “That’s good, Kirstie. I wanted to make you wait, to make you think about what I’m going to feel like inside you. I wanted you very wet,

and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind

inside my pulsing pussy, thrusting a few times as he finishes opening me up. His cock is huge

could see

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