“By the way, why were you saying ‘wang’ earlier?” he asked.
I just laughed harder.
“This is it. This is now officially the single best thing I have ever had in my mouth,” I announced, closing my eyes and moaning.
“You’ve said that about everything you’ve eaten tonight.”
“I know, but I seriously can’t handle how good this is. Smack me, pinch me, throw me overboard, this is too good,” I moaned again. We sat at a little table in the corner of a small restaurant in town, and I was determined to try everything. Simon, showing off his language skills, had ordered for us. I told him to go for it, that I was in his hands and I knew he wouldn’t steer me wrong. And the boy did good. We feasted.
We went with traditional tapas, of course, accompanied by glasses of the house wine. Little bowls and plates showed up at the table every few minutes after that: tiny pork meatballs, slices of ham, marinated mushrooms, beautiful sausages, grilled squid with fruity local olive oil. With each bite, I was sure that I had just eaten the best thing ever, then another wave of gorgeous food would show up and convince me once again. And then these prawns arrived. Unreal. Fried crispy in olive oil with tons of garlic and parsley, smoky paprika, and just a hint of heat. I swooned. I actually swooned.
Simon? He loved it. He ate it up. My reactions as much as the food, I think. He ate it up.
“Honestly, I can’t handle any more,” I protested, dragging a piece of crusty bread through the olive oil. He smiled as he watched me shamelessly enjoy another piece of bread before finally pushing back from the table with a groan.
“Best meal ever?” he asked.
“It really might be. That was insane.” I sighed, patting my full tummy. Ladylike, schmadylike, I’d pounded that meal down like someone was going to take it away from me. A waiter appeared with two small glasses of a local wine. Sweet and crisp, it was the perfect after-dinner drink. We sipped slowly, the breeze coming in through the windows lightly scented with the sea air.
“This was a great date, Simon. Really. Couldn’t have been more perfect,” I said, taking another sip of my wine.
“Was this a date?” he asked.
My face froze. “I mean, no. I suppose not. I just—”
“Relax, Caroline. I know what you meant. It’s just funny to consider this a date: two people traveling together, but only now on a date.” He smiled, and I relaxed.
“Hmm, we haven’t really followed the traditional rules so far, have we? This might even be our first date, if we wanted to get technical.”
“Well, technically speaking, what defines a date?” he asked.
“Dinner, I suppose. Although we’ve had dinner before,” I began.
“And a movie—we’ve already had a movie,” he reminded me.
I shuddered. “Yes, and that was definitely a ploy to get me to snuggle with you. Scary movie, so obvious,” I scoffed.
“It worked, didn’t it? In fact, I do believe I slept with you that night, Nightie Girl.”
“Yes, I’m cheap and easy, I admit it. I suppose we really did do this whole thing backward.” I grinned, sliding my foot across the floor under the table and kicking him lightly.
“I like it backward.” He smirked.
I narrowed my eyes. “Not touching that one.”
“Seriously, though. As I’ve mentioned, I have no experience with this stuff,” he said. “How does this work? What if we were doing this…not backward? What would happen next?”
“Well, I suppose there would be another date, and another after that,” I admitted, smiling shyly.
“And bases. I’d be expected to try to round some bases, right?” he asked seriously.
I spluttered my wine. “Bases? Are you for real? As in, cop a feel, over the shirt, under the shirt, those bases?” I laughed incredulously.
“Yes, exactly. What am I allowed to get away with? As a gentleman, I mean. If this were truly a first date, we wouldn’t be going home together, would we? Dating now, not hooking up. Remember, apparently I give good woo,” he said, eyes twinkling.
“Yes, yes, you do. We wouldn’t be going home together, that’s true. But to be honest, I don’t want you sleeping in the bedroom down the hall. Is that weird?” I could feel my ears burning as I blushed.
“It’s not weird,” he answered quietly. I slipped off my sandal and pressed my foot against his, rubbing lightly along his leg.
“Nooking is good, right?”
“Nooking is most definitely good,” he agreed, nudging back with his own foot.
“As far as your bases are concerned, I think you could definitely plan on a little under the shirt action, if you were so inclined,” I answered. Internally, Brain and Backbone gave a little cheer, while LC and Wang kicked a few chairs. Tatas were just glad someone was considering them for once, instead of being just a stopover on the way to points south. Heart? Well, she was still flitting about, singing her song.
“So, we go a little traditional, but not totally traditional. Take it slow?” he asked, his eyes burning, the sapphires beginning to do their little hypnotic dance.
“Slow, but not too slow. We are grownups, for goodness sake.”
“To under the shirt action,” he announced, raising his glass in toast.
“You’re gonna want to hold on for this,” I promised. He groaned a delicious groan and, doing as he was told, leaned back a little. He pushed his h*ps forward, but kept his eyes on mine. Always on mine.
My lips purred as I slipped his length inside my mouth. His head dropped back as my tongue caressed him, taking him in deeper. The pure pleasure of this, the absolute pleasure of feeling his reaction to me was enough to make my head split in two. I drew him back out, letting my teeth just barely graze his sensitive skin as I saw him grip the edge of counter even harder. I ran my nails up the inside of his legs, pushing his jeans farther down for more access to his warm skin. Pressing kisses across the tip of him, I let my hands come up to grasp him, stroking and massaging. He was perfect, all smooth and taut as I took him in again, and again, and again. I felt crazed, drunk on his scent and the feel of him inside me.
He moaned my name over and over again, his words drifting down like molten chocolate sexy times, pouring inside my brain and dedicating every sense I had to him, only to him. On and on I went, making him crazy, making me crazy, licking, sucking, tasting, teasing, luxuriating in the madness that was this luscious act. To have him here, in this way, was the very definition of luxury.
He stiffened further, and his hands finally came back to me, trying to make me pull back.
“Caroline, oh, Caroline, I’m…you…first…you…oh, God…you,” he stuttered. Luckily, I was able to interpret. He wanted me to have something as well. What he didn’t realize is that this total abandon he was giving me was all I needed. I released him only for a moment, to place his hands once more on the counter.