I laugh and she starts on about all kinds of inappropriate things. I drag her away from her double entendre talk because it makes my job difficult. Instead, I ask about her degree, her pageants, why she chose them as a fast track. I can see a lot of other ways for a girl like her.
“Pageants? They’re easy.” She’s a little off the cuff about them, like she never actually cared.
Still, there’s a little spark, and I want to explore it. “More to it than easy,
Rose.”
“I wanted what they bring. I told you that. I’m smart. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
She shrugs, taking a bite of dinner while I refill her wine. I don’t want her drunk, just glowing. “I’m not exactly a normal person. Homeschooled, moved around, never settled. Then you come along and settle me. In a manner of speaking.”
“So, you chose them as a way to get out there? Finally be seen?” I ask.
“It was easier than wearing a big fuck you sign and flashing my ass to the world.” She keeps her face perfectly straight. “That would bring some interesting career paths my way, but I feel rude sign wearing, ass-flashing modeling is a rather… narrow niche.”
“Broader horizons.”
“Exactly,” she replies. “Plus, they ran out of the giant fuck you signs, and the beauty pageant sign up list was right there.”
She smiles and it’s pretty. It’s genuine. She’s gorgeous, but that smile brings home the freshness of her, the appealing something that draws a man in. “I would’ve been lost without Genius…” Her voice fades and the brightness leaves her face.
It takes me a moment remember who she’s talking about. “Genius, your friend? The eccentric one?”
Frowning, she nods. “She’s the only true friend I have.”
I don’t know why her pouting bothers me so much, but it does. Seeing her hurting when she was just so lively and flirtatious a moment ago makes my chest ache.
“Is she okay?” she asks suddenly, eyes wide. “I need to know if she’s…”
“She’s fine.”
She blinks and bites her lower lip. She wants to ask me more, but she’s afraid of testing the limits. I can’t tell her the truth-that her little friend tried filing a missing person’s report that I had Rush squash with our contacts in blue, or that I have her being watched, for her safety. Somethings are better left unsaid.
“Let’s get back to the pageants.” I take another sip of my drink. “I’m intrigued.”
“You’ll get over it.” A small smile cracks through again. “Especially if I tell you some of the goings on backstage.”
I smile over the rim of my glass. “Oh? Enlighten me.”
And she does. Little tales of stage moms and catty girls, of tantrums over a wrinkled dress-not her-and one girl’s mom who was so nervous, she burned her daughter’s scalp with a curling iron. Every word is entertaining and filled with a healthy dose self-awareness of what she does. The honesty simmering beneath it all that tells me she did it to be seen because she likes it.
“You would make a fine beauty queen,” she says to me.
I stare at her and shake my head, confused and kind of alarmed.
A small giggle escapes her lips. “Would you wear a one piece or a twopiece for the swimsuit section? How are you, really, in heels?”
She’s funny. Witty, disarming. Honest. This is Rose. Pure Rose, and I like her a lot. She tells me silly stories about her friend, Genius. How they met. How bad her very first date went and how she sneaked out for it, then punched him when he tried something.
She’s a breath of fresh air. The evening is sweet and civilized; with each passing moment, she’s more and more open and vulnerable and mine.
I let her talk and I don’t say a thing about myself. As the conversation meanders, the looks she gives get hotter, and our gazes keep snagging, lingering.
My fucking pants are getting tighter, a regular thing around Rose.
The air grows heavy, so much so that when the plates are cleared and Mia comes in with dessert, I’m ready for my next phase.
“Dessert.”
I ignore the slight tone in her voice as she sets down the panna cotta and warm salted caramel sauce.
After she goes, I turn to Rose. “Stand.”
She does immediately, without question, and stares at me, her breathing short and uneven, her cheeks growing flushed.
I smile as I close the gap between us and run my hands over her waist. A soft little gasp escapes her mouth as she catches her lip between her teeth. That heat, that want, makes me almost throw my plans away and fuck her here, right now.
She’s panting as I slip my fingers over her tits, then down, pushing the dress between her thighs to rub her cunt.
This time, she moans. Low. Loud. The sound goes right to my cock.
“You are so fucking hot, Rose.” I strip her of the dress and shoes in record time, only leaving her bracelet and collar. My girl is wet for me-I can see it, smell it. I coil the leash in my hand and lead her to the table, where I push her to lie down.
I look at her, moving along the length of her body, as I pick up the dessert and feed her some.
Rose moans around my fingers and I don’t know if it’s anticipation, the decadence of the dessert, or a bit of both. I leave the smaller dessert by her head so I can feed her, and I smear the white, creamy concoction over her. Lips. Breasts. Stomach. Pussy. She looks unbearably filthy. Insanely hot.
Then I pick up the small jug of sauce and pour it over her in all the right places. She whimpers as it hits her skin, hips moving, looking for me to touch her.
I take a photo of her like this, then more at different angles. How can I not? It’s the most glorious fucking sight I’ve ever seen.
She whimpers, looking for my touch, but I don’t. Not yet. I just look at her, moving about the table, half wishing I’d brought a blindfold. On second thought… I like her seeing what I’m doing. I like her trying to work out what the next move might be. “You’re a work of art, Rose.” One that isn’t finished.
I dot the sauce on her mouth, applying it just so. The great thing about a work of art like Rose is the dismantling. That sauce on her mouth calls to me. I finally let my resolve slip and I kiss her, licking off the caramel, pushing my tongue into her mouth so she can taste the sweetness too.
Once her mouth is clean, I take her lips again, long and slow and deep. Charged. I could spend a small forever kissing her, but I steel myself. I lift my head and look down. Her eyes flutter open, and I trace the shape of her lips with my finger as she moans in earnest now. “Hungry?”
She nods, and I’m not sure if she means the dessert or me. It doesn’t matter. She’ll be getting both.
I pick up the other serving and feed it to her, occasionally licking her stomach for mine. The mix of salty sweetness, the creaminess, and the particular brand of delicious that is her skin is the most evocative thing. It’s almost right up there with her mouth. With her cunt. Almost. When she’s finished eating, I kiss her again to make sure her mouth is clean. “My turn. And Rose?” She looks at me. “Don’t come. Hold it off.” I don’t wait for her to respond. I don’t need to.
I start with her breasts, eating and licking and kissing her with exquisite bites. Her nipples are so fucking hard, they could cut ice, and I suckle them as she makes stuttering noises, like she’s trying not to come.
“Good girl,” I praise, blowing on her nipple. Then I run my knuckles over her, cleaning up any tiny bits with my mouth.
My real dessert is there, so pretty and all dressed up for me to eat. That cunt is magic, and it’s mine.
I take my time eating my dessert. Her taste is perfect with it. Before, tasting her breasts, stomach, lips, all the places the dessert sat on her skin, yeah… evocative. This?
Fucking sublime.
Perfection.
I crave more. I crave it all.
She whimpers as I lick her pussy hard with the flat of my tongue, dipping inside because I want to. Have to. Then I move to her lips, inner, outer, her thighs, up to her clit.
I take it in my mouth and suck the swollen nub, owning it. She’s writhing now, talking to herself to keep her orgasm at bay. Her hips keep lifting, but she hasn’t come.
Good girl.
I’ve eaten all the panna cotta, the sauce, I’ve eaten the fuck out of her, and I keep going, even though I’ve licked her clean. She’s just heaven.
“Please, please, please oh, God. Please let me come. Please, Nikolai. I’ll do anything. I need you. Please. Nikolai!”
I lift my head. My beautiful Rose is red from her head to her toes, her eyes squeezed shut. She’s a gorgeous mess of words and moves and damnit, I’m fucking aching, too.