Part 8 (1/2)

”I bet you also want your champagne to taste like a candied fruit peel.”

”Very much so.” Her vivid imagination transported her somewhere away from the club and onto a beach. She fantasized herself lying topless in the sun while he fed her orange glace slices.

A breathy unevenness hummed between them. His nostrils flared to recover. As his chest rose up and down, it revealed his pecs were as fabulous as her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Too good to resist, she raised her hand for a torso-hot touch. I wanna lick you.

In an instant, he grabbed her hand, drawing her closer, placing her palm on chest.

Ah! Her thumb rested above his s.h.i.+rt's thin fabric. ”You are such a Big Daddy-a very delectable Big Daddy.” f.u.c.k me pah-lease.

His quarter-sized nipples stiffened under her thumb as if on instinct, thanking her for the compliment. Suddenly, the material between them became somewhat undetectable. ”Once the champagne's tart bubbles glide down your throat and your sugar high kicks in,” He moved her hand from his nipple to the center of his chest. ”You'll feel your heart skip.” He pulsed, lub-dub, lub-dub.

”I see.” A knot rose in her throat. Sweet Jesus nipplelicious. He's got me. Fighting the urge to tear his white tailored b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt off, she raked her nails over him.

Nodding his head to confirm, he reached for her chin and pulled her face in close, giving her a soft kiss on the lips. Dry at first, lip to lip, no tongue, but a promise for what came next. ”You want to sample...smoky aromas, a powdery cocoa on your palate after the first swallow.”

”S-Smoky aromas sound interesting.” She felt itchy. A hot ache burned throughout her. The urge to unzip the d.a.m.n Celine dress off her fevering body became excruciating.

So flippin' male. So effin' mine. So f.u.c.king now.

”Do you know what else sounds appealing?” He held on to her face with intent, as if he owned it. He could if he wanted to.

She dreamt she'd be crushed in his hands like candied sugar.

He strived for tenderness, she could tell, as gentle as his bull-designed body would let him. But she didn't occupy a Lenox china shop. Her body had been crafted in steel. Bring it on, Big Daddy.

Garner's lips returned to where they left off. His tongue didn't ask for permission entering. It didn't tickle, lick or dance. With one deep-intense-plunge, his kiss spoke in silence and declared, ”I have you.”

Fucccck, toes curling, scalp tingling, p.u.s.s.y wetting.

Pulling back, he acknowledged, ”To reiterate your champagne order.”

”Ooooh-” Intoxicated by his words, she'd disregarded the booze. She hadn't consumed an alcoholic drop in days. Not with Birdie around.

”You want a bold flavor.” He extended his hand above her breast. Lowering his voice, he asked, ”May I?”

Nodding and closing her eyes, she flirted, ”You may.” Here we go. It's my turn.

Heat came from his palm and seared her breast through the gown's fine material. He hadn't even touched her skin to skin yet. As the hand came down, she opened her eyes to see him admiring her. ”Red, keep your magnificent eyes open for me.”

”This feels-”

”Let your body relax.” Garner grazed her nipple with his palm.

Raising her a.s.s about a half an inch off her seat, she sat back down again, directly on her c.l.i.t. I'm going to come. She crossed her legs.

”You okay?” He stared at her as if she'd shoot off to the moon.

She nodded for him to continue. ”Fine. It's warm in here, is all.”

Garner unb.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt a notch. ”We agreed intense, deep-ruby shades in the champagne.” He held his hand over her other breast and waited again for permission. ”May I?”

The heat from his hand reemerged over her cleavage.

”You may.”

His hand drew over her hungry b.r.e.a.s.t.s as he went under the V-neck of her cleavage. He slipped his fingers skin to skin under the perky fold of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and ma.s.saged her. His hands felt warm and dry against her moist, increasingly hot skin.

Nipples firm and c.l.i.t dripping, she fought the urge to release the pleasure she experienced with words. They didn't exist in the English vocabulary to describe the party going on in her mind. She tripped high on his Big Daddy ecstasy. Being in his arms wasn't a walk through her beloved Central Park. It was a psychedelic journey in Candy Land with a race to her p.u.s.s.y castle. Taddy fantasized she was Princess Lolly, skipping to her own tunes, in the honey clouds. Engrossed with enthusiasm at the pleasures before her, she followed her desires where they took her from one adventure to the next. Indeed this Big Daddy held the powers. He became her King Kandy. And together they danced through her Gingerbread Plum Trees. Snap the flip out of it, Taddy Brill.

He nuzzled her earlobe with his lips and whispered, ”The first thing your tongue should taste is a floral note with your champagne.”

”Floral...” Echoing his words, she about came in her seat.

”You desire a fruity taste.” Garner held on to the base of her breast then flicked her nipple.

Air. I need to breathe. Everything felt as if it was happening in slow motion. She uncrossed her legs, putting a slight s.p.a.ce between her knees.

His free hand rested between her legs. ”May I?” he asked as the perfect gentleman.

She glanced over her shoulder. They sat alone. The waiter must've drawn the curtain. She didn't notice. Not a soul in sight. ”You may.” She exposed herself a little farther under the table, giving him enough room to slide his hands under the table's edge and inside her.

”To finish, you'd enjoy the champagne's body which sparkles, sense initial firmness as it fills your mouth and experience a cream rush as you swallow.”

Hiking her dress higher, she took his hands in hers and a.s.sisted him, pus.h.i.+ng himself deeper into her. ”The f-firmer and c-creamier the better.”

”With a subtle sweet-and-sour note in the champagne, perhaps a pink grapefruit.” He ma.s.saged her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with one hand and fingered her valley with the other.

Taddy covered her mouth and bit down on her pointer finger, finding it hard to control herself.

”There, there, my Red.” He leaned in again, removed her hand from her mouth and kissed her more pa.s.sionately than before. His fingers danced inside her, holding on to her as if he owned her.

Take me. Grasping on to him, her legs apart, each square body inch danced in vibration to his deep voice. His hands moved inside her as if her body belonged to him from the very beginning.

”Big Daddy.” Right there, go deeper, yeah...yes, hit it. Push harder. Go further. Uh-huh, love that. Oh Jesus.

”Look at you coming, Red. You're beautiful. Let your body go, baby. I have you,” he whispered in her ear, granting her permission to enjoy herself.

f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k. f.u.c.k. Yes. Oooh. She came hard. Her body collapsed into his.

She was convinced he'd slipped her an Ecstasy hit and her parched mouth dried further. She hadn't drunk, swallowed or licked anything except his tongue. Could he have marinated his lips in euphoria? Laced his hot mouth with drugs? Nah. She realized she'd done what she'd always fantasized about-letting go.

Taddy had no clue who he was and vice versa. He could've introduced himself as Mista Ronald hamburger-flipping McDonald for all she cared. She didn't seek a relations.h.i.+p. But this fella spoke worldliness. He knew champagne. And unless he caged an anaconda in his pants, he presented a new significance to the word ”hung”.

Garner whispered in her ear, ”Let's order a bottle of Dom Perignon Rose.” He leaned in farther. ”And some napkins.”