Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55738 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
We have the VIP table on a small balcony overlooking the rest of the restaurant. The angle gives us privacy. Across from us, the chandelier sparkles, catching light. Italian jazz plays through the speaker system, the music relaxing despite my inability to understand a single word.
“This is great,” Samantha says, looking around with a big grin on her face.
Better than the restaurant my son took you to? I wish these thoughts would get the hell out of my head.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say.
The waiter approaches. “Can I start you off with some drinks?”
“Is it okay if I just have a soda?” Samantha asks me, not looking at the waiter. Anybody else might take this for rudeness, but I spent my career reading people. She’s too nervous to look at him. She’s so cute it hurts.
“What kind?” I ask her.
“Uh, orange.”
“Orange soda for my date. In fact, two orange sodas. Thank you.”
The man nods and leaves.
“I feel like this place is too fancy for me,” Samantha says a moment later.
That almost makes me roar like anything could be too fancy for her. “Get used to it,” I tell her. “Unless I massively mess this date up, you’re going to places way fancier than this.”
She bites her lip, then lets it go, seeming annoyed with herself.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Who said anything was?”
“You, Samantha. I’m always watching you. Always reading you,” I laugh gruffly. “I didn’t mean for that to sound threatening.
She laughs, shaking her head. “It didn’t. I have to stop biting my lip, that’s all. It’s a bad habit.”
“Is it? It makes you look hot as hell. Horny as hell.”
She looks down at the table. “You’re so naughty.”
“I know. I know.” I hold my hand up. “Scout’s honor. Only date stuff from now on.”
“I don’t even know what people talk about on dates,” she laughs. “I’ve only ever been on one.” She bites down again and again looks pissed at herself. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. We didn’t even know each other when you went on that date.”
“Still, it’s awkward.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” I say fiercely. “Let’s forget about all that. Tell me about yourself.”
“What, everything?”
I lean forward, smirking. “Yes, everything.”
She laughs again, a sound so sweet I’ll always want to earn it. “You know, it’s funny. I’m not even sure what I would say.”
“In my old job, we had cover stories, fake lives. Before each operation, we had to list the traits of our character. A loner type, went to college to study business, dropped out because his girlfriend left him… Maybe you should give me your cover story.”
“Okay.” She sits up, causing those big, beautiful breasts to jiggle slightly, my shaft getting hard. I force myself to look into her eyes instead. “I’ll try. My cover story is that I’ve always been the quiet, shy one. I’ve always found it hard to connect with people. I’m not sure why that is. Sometimes, I think it’s because I see the world differently. Sometimes, it’s because I think I’m just plain weird. Am I doing it right?”
She looks at me with adorable nervousness. Yet, even now, I can’t turn off the savage part of my mind. Am I doing it right? I can imagine her saying that in so many other situations, looking up at me wide-eyed, my hard dick just about to slip between her lips again. I try to focus on the now—the date.
“Keep going,” I whisper, eager to learn as much about her as possible. She’s my woman, after all.
“If I’m any good at art—”
“You are,” I say fiercely.
“It’s because I spent all my childhood practicing and thinking about it, nothing else. My parents were older, and they preferred relaxing to days out. So I had plenty of time to learn.”
“How old?” I ask.
“My dad was fifty-seven when I was born. My mom was forty-one.” My reaction must show on my face because she goes on. “I know. I know. They thought they didn’t want to have kids at first.”
We pause when the waiter brings the drinks. “Thank you,” I tell him. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready to order food.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Where was I?” she asks.
“They weren’t sure if they wanted kids.”
“Yeah, exactly, but they decided they did later in life. It took a lot of trying and a few medical marvels, but then they had me. I’ve sort of lost the whole cover story thing.”
“That’s okay,” I tell her. “I don’t want a cover story, anyway. I want your story.”
I reach across the table and take her hand. Every time we touch, she reacts like the same heat is burning through her, the same heat that pulses in me every time. I’m finding it difficult not to pull her into my lap and let her feel my solid manhood against her round juicy ass, but she deserves romance, too, if I’m capable of giving it.