“Am I supposed to appreciate what you’ve done for me too?” I took a bite of the sushi. “Oh, man, I do appreciate what you’ve done for me.” Like, really really. “Donovan, this is amazing.”
I finished the piece then took the tempura he offered.
As he so often did, he watched me attentively. The amusement in his eyes was gone, and now they were dark and intense, not just with desire but with something else. Something heavier. Like the weight I’d felt when he’d washed my hands.
Whatever it was I saw—whether it was there or I just wanted it to be there, it made me shiver. Made me not want to look away.
“Come here,” he growled, abruptly wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into his lap. He picked up another piece of sushi, dipped it and fed it to me. “This is better.”
Better for feeding purposes or because now my bare pussy was just inches from the outline of his stiffening cock, I didn’t know. But yes, I agreed it was definitely better.
It was also easier for me to feed him. Since Donovan wouldn’t relinquish the chopsticks and I couldn’t find mine, I used my fingers, which he sucked thoroughly. He let me feed him one more piece like this. The next time he fed me, he reached down under my skirt and drew slow circles on my clit with his thumb at the same time.
“Mmm,” I moaned.
“You like the sashimi?” His eyes taunted as his fingers teased me.
“Yeah, that’s what I liked,” I said sarcastically.
“In that case…” He drew his hand away from where I so badly wanted it.
“No!” I rubbed up against him, begging for his attention to return. “Please.”
His eyes flashed with an idea. He reached behind me and grabbed the Sharpie that he’d tossed on the table after drawing on my arm earlier. Again, he removed the lid with his teeth—unf, super sexy. With my skirt gathered up around my waist, he bent low so he could write something on the skin at the top of my folds, just above my clit. Then he capped the lid and put the marker back in his jacket pocket.
“What did you wri—?”
But my question was cut off by the return of his thumb on my clit, and seriously, I didn’t care much after that. I didn’t care much about anything except the whirlwind building inside of me and trying to maintain enough composure to eat what he gave me when he offered it.
I managed for a while. I even managed to feed him most of the teriyaki salmon at the same time. But then Donovan abandoned the chopsticks, feeding me with his fingers instead, and with the thumb of his other hand still on my clit, he slid two fingers inside my very slick hole.
After that, I was a goner.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He pulled his fingers out and the next time he drove them in, he added a third. “You’re so wet, you could take my cock right now. Couldn’t you?”
I’d eaten the entire piece of sushi, but I clutched onto his hand, sucking on his thumb and forefinger as if they were his cock. “Uh-huh,” I moaned, my mouth full.
“Take it out,” he ordered. “Take out my cock.”
I was dazed but I was still aware. Aware of where we were. Aware that we were in public, that the walls were thin, that I could hear the clatter of dishes and the buzz of conversation on either side of us. I could see the shadowed movement of other guests through the shoji. Could they see us? Could they hear us? Did they know what we were doing?
Probably not. But it was possible.
And that possible was all it took to be one of the hottest things I’d ever done.
Without further hesitation, I scrambled with Donovan’s belt and pants. I pulled his underwear down far enough to release his erection. It sprung out, tall and thick and alert. By this time, he was ready with a condom he’d retrieved from his jacket pocket. While he continued to finger me, I unwrapped the latex over his cock.
As soon as I’d gotten him fully covered, he moved his hands to dig into my hips underneath my skirt. He hoisted me up a couple of inches, and even though he was working quickly, all I could think was that he wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. I needed him inside me. I needed him now. Now. Now.
And then there he was at my entrance.
He was right—I was so wet, I could easily have slid down over him. But, like every time he’d been inside me before, he didn’t hesitate or let me take the lead—as soon as he’d notched his head at my hole, he drove up into me without mercy.
“Ah, fuck,” I whimpered, feeling like I was in the first car at the top of the big loop on a rollercoaster. Adrenaline and excitement surged through my veins, my body ready for the ride.
With incredible stamina, he hammered into me, pounding my pussy with such vigor and force that he was soon sweating. Even through his clothes, I could see the strain of his muscles as he struggled to hold me up. He bucked into me so hard I knocked repeatedly against the table behind me—not too loud that we caused a disturbance, but loud enough that people might have noticed. My breasts jiggled despite the fact I was wearing a bra. Something clattered to the floor. Sake spilled and dripped at my side.
I clung onto him desperately, wrapping an arm around his neck to steady myself. With my other hand, I reached down to massage my clit, which started me again toward the orgasm that had already been building.
I was close. He was too. I was tight in this position already, but I closed my knees in tighter against him and tensed my pussy, both to reward and to torture him.
He had his own version of reward and torture—it came in the form of kissing. When his rhythm was established, and our positions were perfected, he leaned forward and claimed my mouth with his. His lips were frantic and frenzied against mine, as though no matter how much I gave him—and I gave him everything—it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. His tongue plunged deeper. His pressure grew stronger. Still, it wasn’t enough.
But it was enough to send me soaring. Higher, higher, higher.
When I came, he came with me, brutally, like two savage animals fucking in the wild. I practically screamed, and he had to push my face into his jacket to muffle the sound. He wasn’t quiet himself, grunting his release into my hair. My legs trembled and my muscles stretched with the fierceness of my climax. Instead of rolling over my body in waves, it hit me like a truck, smacking out of me in one terrible, amazing rip of ecstasy. It hurt how it crashed through me, as though it was too much pleasure to be experienced at one time. As though my orgasm didn’t know about Donovan’s rule to fuck and run, and it had built up expecting that it would be dispensed in bits and pieces and not all in one dose.
I fell on his shoulder and closed my eyes to let myself catch my breath. When it didn’t feel like the world was spinning anymore, I sat up. He was waiting to kiss me once more, slowly this time, with his hand holding my cheek. It was a sweet kiss, even as he controlled it. It was soft. It was something much lighter than the heaviness that every other intimacy with him carried.
Too soon, he was finished. He lifted me off of him and stood me on the floor beside him.
He tied off the condom, wrapped a napkin around it and stuck it in his pocket. After he’d put himself away, he got into the platter with the hot towels and grabbed one to clean me up.
“Turns out the hot towels are just as useful after the meal,” I joked when he lifted my skirt and swiped the wet rag over my pussy. “More like warm towel now, but perhaps that’s for the best.”