Free Feast on Me by Terri George Page A

eye; an image of bodies slick with sweat.
    “ My favorite
place to be... I’m David. Shall we go?”
    He was disarmingly handsome:
unruly dark hair slightly at odds with the immaculate chalk stripe
navy suit, crisp white shirt and gray silk tie, but still. The
audacity of his assumption that I would go anywhere with him, a
complete stranger, stunned me into silence; synapses misfiring,
rendering me incapable of speech.
    He put his palms together as if
in prayer, his brows creasing a little as he rested his chin on his
fingertips.
    My senses recovered
sufficiently and my brain registered his strong hands. Take charge
hands. I liked that in a man.
    “ Oh, I’ve
shocked you. I just meant grab a drink. There’s a little bar I
know. You do drink..?” He waited for me to offer my
name.
    “ Jessica.”
    “ Jess-i-ca.”
He looked into the middle distance as he repeated my name slowly;
almost as if to consider how the forming of it felt on his tongue.
“Lovely.” His gaze reconnected with mine. “And do you, Jessica?
Drink?”
    “ Yes.”
    “ Then shall
we?” He held out his hand to me, and I took it.
     
    It was still early, the dimly
lit bar all but empty. We sat in a booth in the corner. There’d
been flirting and touching. The ice tinkled against the glass as I
swirled a finger in my vodka. I held his gaze as I slipped my
finger in my mouth and sucked.
    He whispered his palm up my
inner thigh. A small groan of appreciation passed his lips as I
opened my legs a little wider. He leaned in, his mouth close to my
ear. “Go to the ladies’ room.”
    I slid along the banquette,
smoothing down my dress as I got to my feet. I walked to the
ladies’ restroom without a backward glance. I knew he’d follow.
     
    He pushed into the stall, slid
the bolt in the lock and maneuvered our bodies so he had me pressed
up against the door. My pussy spasmed in anticipation as he trailed
his fingers down my cleavage and teased at the V neckline of my
wraparound dress, pulling it apart. His hot breath rushed over my
bare breasts as he flicked each hard nipple with his tongue. One
firm tug had my belt undone and my dress fell open, leaving me, for
all intents and purposes, naked.
    I trembled as he ran his middle
finger up my slit.
    “ No panties,”
he tsked. “I knew you were a slut when I saw how turned on you were
at the exhibition. I could smell your arousal. And you know what
happens to sluts like you.”
    Raw sexual heat poured off him.
My nerves fizzed and sparked as my clit throbbed out a rhythm in
time with my rapid pulse.
    “ What?”
    He unzipped
his fly and took out his dick. It was hard and thick. Pre-cum oozed
from the tip. “They get fucked. Hard .”
    He scooped me up, held me
against the door and slammed in. I wrapped my legs tighter around
his hips. The heels of my knee-high boots scraped against his ass
with every deep thrust.
    “ This is for
me. You won’t come. Sluts like you don’t deserve to
come.”
    The bolt on the door rattled
against the latch as he powered into me. He grunted with every
forceful thrust, digging his fingers into my ass. He came
ferociously with a snarl.
    The moment he was done he
pulled out, tucked himself away and zipped up his fly. He squeezed
me out of the way, unbolted the door and was gone.
     
    I heard my husband moving
around the kitchen as I closed the front door to our apartment.
Having made my way down the hall, I stood at the doorway admiring
his ass as he bent down to take a bottle of wine from the lowest
rack.
    Worn jeans hung low on his hips
while his white T-shirt clung to his muscular torso. He was fresh
from the shower, his dark hair a roughly dried mess.
    We’d been together five years
and yet I still marveled at how much younger he looked in casual
clothes and freshly shaved; almost boyish even though he was well
into his thirties.
    He sensed me watching and
turned. “Hey, babe.” His warm smile reached up to green eyes that
shone with love. “I ordered in.