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.

is a

noodles. He glances around our cubicle. “I like it here,”

my mouthful of food, I suppress a squeal as fingers plunge

judder against the penetrating, delicious, invading, electric

your food, but I want you good and expectant for later when I get

he speaks. The fingers probing inside me are sending electric shocks pinging through to

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

his hand

at his mouth with the napkin, talking

My pasta?

Ohhhh…… Godddddd….

*****

the river bridge

you had to park so far out,” I say.

is,” he agrees, “but it’s a lovely

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

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

I just

to face him, “I think I misheard

we get back to the car, I’m going to fuck you over the

beginning to panic. “But we’re parked

besides,” he gives me a cool look, “if

arrested in the

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

at the car, I consider my

Master’s?…

well away from any street lights. The setting sun is blushing shadows over the spot, and the car is shrouded

head-points me.

hammering and pussy aching, I

the car

still warm from

my hips. My panties are worthless; soaked and sagging, and he tugs

fingers 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

and quivering skin. As I whimper, behind me there is the

as he finishes opening me up.

anyone could see

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