Date Night



Every move was calculated, almost cruel in its intent, as I laid her out to feast—the culmination of hours of teasing torment now stored tensely in the small of her back. And I would damn well unleash it, whatever the cost. With one hand between her shoulders, I pressed her chest to the hard wood, brushing aside her dark, draping tresses to find the silver tab of a zipper which held me only tentatively at bay. Leisurely I pulled, languid and slow, unwrapping a treasure long hidden in plain sight as her dress fell away without resistance.

Might we have waited to indulge this sordid nightcap? Snuck off to some corner more desolate and conducive to exploration incognito? Perhaps. But then, that’s the thing with such abject craving in a feast-or-famine world—hesitate for even a second, and watch the prey you’ve so struggled to corner fade into phantasm while you’re left to salivate alone. Well not on this night. Not on her life. She’d all but handed me the key; all that remained was to step inside and take possession.

Every brush of my fingertips down her spine rippled soundless shockwaves through her body. I could feel her swallow them down, burying each sensation in silence to avoid drawing attention our way. Every glance of my lips along freshly uncovered curves drove her hunger exponentially higher, yet rendered her increasingly helpless at my mercy.

Ages removed from the bustle of early evening, an endless and meandering dinner date had led us here, to this very instant atop this very table. In the waning hours since, the room had wound down to a standstill, leaving us this one fleeting window of isolation, and I would lunge through it by force if need be. The ribbons of chatter from the bar, interspersed with an occasional clink of glassware, became music between us—fueling our mischief higher with the constant reminder of the heightened danger of our surroundings.

I slid in behind her as I’d yearned to do for so long, hiking the hem of her dress up trembling thighs and spreading her legs roughly to accommodate my urgency. Oh, how I wanted to claim her, to impale and brand her as mine with the first blinding rush of my heat. But to do so would mean a violation of this decadence, this brief eternity in which I longed to stay lost. My fingers roamed upward as I pinned her fiercely to the table, over fields so impossibly soft that reason itself gave way to an encompassing need—a starvation—to sink into her with abandon and make this aching self whole.

I began to wonder, as I felt bolts of electricity leap from her flawless skin, how long could I hold out? For that matter, how long could she? Rallying all the calm I could muster, I reined back my intensity to feather a line of kisses down her body—allowing her just long enough to dig those crimson nails into the tabletop before I made my next move. With every groan, I sensed the scales shifting just as surely I felt her back arching to be taken. Not just yet…

“You were saying?” I growled, the dominant rumble in my throat tickling up her shoulder to trigger a blush of raw arousal. For five grueling courses, she’d toyed with the beast, flashing “inadvertent” teases of peaches & cream while seasoning every dish with a liberal dose of innuendo. Now came the treat I’d endured all else to savor; the one her eyes promised me since meeting.

In a single motion, our power play reversed as I raised a drizzled strawberry from the plate before us and rolled it teasingly around her lips. Probing slowly inside, I worked her tongue with deliberate provocation, curious to see just how far she’d take it. What started as a gentle sucking at the tip turned frenzied as the sound of my lowering zipper behind her back tore through the hushed room. My free hand reached out to tangle a commanding handful of her hair while we both struggled to keep track of the roving waitstaff.

Raising the stakes even as prying eyes circled, she bit into a mouthful of delicate flesh, unleashing a trail of sweet juices down her neck. Then she thrust herself instinctively back, releasing the faintest hint of a whimper as she felt me surge to life. Angry and impatient, I swelled between her thighs, relieved to be free of constricting fabric yet dying for the suffocation of her tight, wet embrace. Every brush of my rage against hypersensitive flesh stripped away her control until I stood poised at the brink of penetration—one drive of the hips away from complete and total immersion. But that, it seemed would not do.

Reclaiming dominion, she pushed back against my force, piercing the token of physical resistance between us to allow me a single step inside. As she tried to pull away and continue the tease, though, I leveraged her hips against the table’s edge and threw my own weight onto hers, blurring every sensation into one sustained hum and throwing the room around us into a tailspin. Attempting briefly to control a runaway force, we devolved into a pounding rhythm as hunger overtook logic and common sense narrowed to a singular focus. Plates rattled and silverware rained down onto the tiled floor at our feet, but we’d come too far to stop now.

“Harder,” she groaned, tempting the inevitability brought closer with every push. “Oh, God, now!”

Her teeth sank deeply into a mouthful of linen as my hands found the curves of her hips and dug in without decorum. Any appearance that I held control was an illusion at best. The lure of her body and the need to finish had me reeling in a perpetual freefall. God, I was close. Too close. Suddenly, the reality of the moment closed in as I found myself cornered with no escape from a raging and determined release. The harder I fought, the more expertly she teased before sealing my fate with one single word.


Wherever my mind might have wandered in that moment, my body refused to keep the lady waiting any longer. Heeding her plea, I reared back and finished us both with one last plunge that nearly topped the table on its side.

Drunk on the sensory overload, I collapsed across her back even as our bodies continued to spasm, unleashing the last of my energy deep inside her and stifling my growl with a primal bite of her shoulder. She proudly took ownership of everything I gave, releasing a smug laugh as the heat overflowed her, as though she knew all along I’d relent. But then, I could have told her that at “Hello.” I joined in her laugh, infectious as it was, but it was the third laugh which made it a crowd.

Pulling my head from the comfort of her spine, I looked up to find our waiter, finally returned albeit a moment too soon. “May I,” he stuttered, unsure whether to finish, “may I interest either of you in dessert?”

“What do you say, honey?” she asked, flashing a wicked grin over her shoulder. “Still hungry?”

“Ravenous,” I said as I zipped her back up and shelled out a generous tip. “But then, the night’s not over yet. How about we go catch a movie?”

She stood and pondered, perhaps half-tempted to accept, but I already knew the answer.

“Maybe next week, sweetheart,” she conceded, planting a conciliatory kiss before stepping out into the night to hail the first taxi that passed. “But it’s getting late… and we should probably get back to the kids.”


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