Free Owning Wednesday by Annabel Joseph Page B

She was no connoisseur of fine wine, not even close, but the wine he chose was absolutely delicious, and she drank probably more than she should have. She was flushed and excited, not just from the wine and ambience, but from the awareness of what was to come.
     
    She was also aware of her nakedness under her dress. She kept her legs pressed together, but the way he looked at her made her feel exposed. They were both thinking about later , she supposed, but somehow they managed to talk like normal, civilized people over their meal. They talked about his work and hers, about their travels, their experiences, their likes and dislikes. They danced when she was nice and tipsy, and Daniel laughed as she tottered on her heels. Ever the gentleman, he held and guided her, compensating for her impaired balance. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he pulled her close. She drifted on the scent of him—clean soap or aftershave—and the warm, scratchy stubble against her cheek.
     
    “You aren’t going to sleep, are you?” he asked. “That’s not allowed. Our night is just beginning.”
     
    “I’m not sleeping. I’m relaxing. You’re so warm.” She rubbed her cheek on his sweater as she’d ached to do all evening.
     
    “You feel cold.” He stroked her bare arm, giving her goose bumps. “I bet you’re cold under your dress.”
     
    She laughed. “A little.”
     
    “Don’t worry.” He tightened his fingers on her waist. “I’ll warm you up soon enough.”
     
    By the time they arrived at his house, she was a ball of impatient craving. He seemed equally worked-up. He had barely closed the door before his hands were up her dress. He cupped her ass, caressing it, and traced his fingers over the tops of her stockings.
     
    “God. Down,” he said.
     
    “What?”
     
    “Down, down on your back, now.”
     
    He pushed her to the floor and pulled her dress up so impatiently that she was glad it wasn’t tight, because she had no doubt he would have ripped it to get at what was underneath.
     
    He wrapped his arms around the tops of her thighs and parted her. She gasped as he kissed her pussy, licking and nibbling a trail to her clit. He was slow and deliberate, tasting her with broad, firm strokes and gentle teases. Daniel went down on her just as he had done everything else to her so far—with complete and utter abandon. Daniel exemplified unabashed carnal lust. Not mindless lust, though. No, he concentrated. Every moan, every movement she made caused some reaction in him. She imagined him cataloging her responses. She likes that. She likes that. She doesn’t like that quite so much. Ohh…that makes her moan.
     
    God. Oh…oh God . She bucked under him, her pussy flaring hotter and hotter, but he tightened his hold so she couldn’t scoot away. He twisted his fingers in her garter straps as he kissed and sucked on her clit, worrying it between his teeth with just the right tension. She had no idea what to do, whether to pull him closer or push him away. In the end she twisted her hands in his shag carpet to hold herself to the earth. Her pussy pulsed as he sucked her clit, then licked up both sides of her cleft. He prodded her with dexterous fingers, which were lubricated by the flood of her reaction. He finger-fucked and tongued her in a perfect symphony, and a climax twisted and built inside her. As she lifted her hips, arching for more contact, a leaf drifted to the floor beside her. She looked up in sudden confusion. Where was she, inside or outside? Why is there a tree in his house?
     
    She was close, so close to orgasm. She reached blindly for him, and pulled roughly at his hair, something she would never in a thousand years have dared do to Vincent. It felt so soft and thick.
     
    “God, please, Daniel… Don’t stop!”
     
    He didn’t, only redoubled his efforts, pressing her clit with his tongue with exactly the pressure she liked. She took it as permission to go off whenever she wanted, and she