Part 2: link
“Dare,” Arthur mutters in Gwen’s ear, Поцелуи her neck.
“Arthur, we are in the middle of a restaurant,” Gwen protests mildly, pushing his shoulder lightly.
“We’re not in the middle,” he says smirking at her. “I specifically requested a secluded booth.”
“I thought Ты were being romantic, not perverted,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips now.
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” he declares, waving his hand dismissively.
Gwen laughs now, winding спагетти around her fork.
“So?” Arthur prompts, a glint in his eye. She sighs. “Make it a good one,” he challenges.
Gwen looks around. It’s dark in here. Long tablecloths on the tables. The waiter has just recently been. She reaches out with her left hand and takes his right hand, guiding it under the table. He scoots a little closer to her as she directs his hand to her knee. He can feel the edge of her юбка with his fingertips.
She bites her lip again, that same nervous habit, and watches a devilish grin трещина, сплит Arthur’s face when she gently pushes his hand, directing it up her thigh, beneath her skirt.
He knows now what he has been dared to do, and slides his hand up her inner thigh, caressing the silken flesh there, higher, until his fingers find the juncture of her thighs and the warm, slightly damp strip of silk covering his target.
Am I insane? Gwen thinks, remembering her tendency towards shouting. Then his fingers press against her and she realizes that she is most definitely insane.
“You’re very brave,” he mutters, casually reaching for his wine glass with his left hand while his right hand moves her panties to the side so his fingers can find her.
“I’m completely bonkers,” she whispers, her hand gripping the таблица as he slides a finger inside, pushing deep.
“God, Guinevere,” he groans softly, turned on by how wet she already is.
Arthur withdraws his finger so that he can круг it around that sensitive spot, adding a секунда finger now, increasing the contact.
Gwen’s mouth opens slightly and her breathing is heavy. A bus boy passes and she clamps her mouth closed. Arthur picks up his хлеб and takes a bite.
He continues his surreptitious ministrations, his fingers circling, rubbing softly, then plunging inside.
Gwen strives to appear calm, as if nothing is happening. As if this gorgeous man who she is hoping will be her boyfriend very soon isn’t doing deliciously sinful things to her beneath the table.
She lifts her right hand, gripping her fork, and shakily winds спагетти around the tines, almost losing her grip on the fork when his fingers return to their circling.
Arthur’s eyes twinkle with amusement and lust as he watches her, watching her unravel, watching how he can render her weak with just two fingers. He also feels his own erection straining against his trousers, and shifts slightly in his seat.
Gwen lifts the fork to her lips, and just as she puts the fork in her mouth, Arthur thrusts both fingers inside again.
“Timing is everything, Ты know,” he teases, his voice low and seductive.
“OhmyGod…” she breathes after she swallows, running the words together. “What… the hell… was I thinking?” she gasps quietly.
Arthur smiles at her, his eyes darkened by desire just from watching her. She’s close. She must be.
“This хлеб is very good, Guinevere. Nice chewy crust,” he says, picking up a roll and handing it to her.
“What?” she gasps, blinking at him. What the hell is he talking about? Bread? I’m about ready to burst and…
“Here,” he holds it up to her lips. “Bite,” he instructs.
Oh, she realizes what he is doing, and his thoughtfulness somehow proves her undoing.
She bites into the hard crust of the roll, giving it the brunt of her outburst as she comes, the wave crashing down over her. She presses her knees together and squeaks in the back of her throat.
“Can I have my hand, или are Ты keeping it for another round?” he asks, smirking.
She relaxes her legs, but mutters, “I’m going to keep that hand in the drawer of my nightstand.”
“Only my hand?” He laughs and leans over to Kiss her, softly and sweetly. Then he lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks the moisture from them before drying them on his napkin.
“Early dessert,” he chuckles. “That was fun.”
“That was insane; I don’t know what I was thinking,” she laughs, reaching for her glass.
“You were thinking that I owed Ты from lunch.”
“Perhaps. I have been kind of… pent up since then,” she admits.
“Well, now we’re even,” he gins. “However,” he adds, taking her hand and placing it on his groin, “this is a slight problem.”
“He’s going to have to wait,” Gwen says, patting him once, gently, and returning her hand to the table.
Arthur pouts again.
“Just until after dinner,” she leans over and kisses his ear. “You know, when we’re alone. Back at my place. или yours. I’m not fussy,” she whispers, licking, then nipping the edge of his ear.
Arthur groans. “Your place. Let your neighbors experience the joy of hearing Ты crying out my name in ecstasy, over and over…” he says, turning to nuzzle her nose with his.
“Somehow I think they’ll find it slightly less joyful than Ты do, Arthur,” Gwen says, smiling.
Arthur pulls away suddenly, leaving Gwen surprised, puzzled until she sees that he’s flagging the waiter.
“Two orders of tiramisu, to go. And the check, please.”
Gwen is quiet in the car back to her place. Arthur hopes she isn’t regretting what they did at the restaurant. It was her idea, though, he thinks, and decides there must be something on her mind.
He reaches over for her hand, and she holds it in her lap while he drives. She only speaks to give directions, though.
“Is there something on your mind, Guinevere?” he asks finally.
“Kind of,” she says. “Sorry, I know I’ve gone quiet.”
“Do I need to be worried?” he asks.
She squeezes his hand. “I don’t think so. I… I’m just trying to decide about something.”
“Oh,” he says, puzzled. Then, at a stoplight, he looks over at her. “Truth.”
“Shit,” she curses. “Will Ты be my дата to a ужин I have to go to on Saturday?”
He almost laughs. That’s it? “Of course I will,” he answers, reaching up to run his finger down her cheek. “You were worried about asking me that?” The light changes, and he hits the gas.
“Well, yes and no. It’s a work event, and we can bring a plus-one. Just an appreciation ужин for some of our clients.”
“And?”
“And…” she takes a deep breath, “I was kind of hoping that Ты would come, but as еще than just my plus-one.” She looks at her knees, biting her lip. “Oh, turn left here.”
Yes, please, Arthur thinks, obediently turning left. “You want to be able to introduce me as your boyfriend?” he asks softly.
She looks over at him, her lovely brown eyes wide and questioning. “Truth,” she shyly tries. I can play this game, too. “And stop here, Ты can pull in the driveway.” She points.
“Guinevere,” he says, turning the car off, “will Ты be my girlfriend?” I sound like I’m fifteen, he realizes, suddenly feeling ridiculous.
“Yes,” she whispers, smiling. “Why do I feel like I’m in school?” she laughs nervously.
“I know, I was just thinking the same thing!” he exclaims, laughing with her, the tension in the car broken. He leans over and kisses her. Then he looks at where they are.
“You have a house? We spent last weekend in my apartment, harassing the neighbors when Ты have a bloody house?”
Gwen laughs again. “Sorry,” she apologizes, leaning over to Kiss him. “I sort of inherited it when my dad died. It’s really not much; it’s small.”
“Still a bloody house,” he grumbles, but he is smiling as he exits the car and walks around to open her door.
Gwen grabs the desserts and leads him to the door. “Your apartment is beautiful, Arthur, shut up,” she says. And I’m certain that the rent on that place is definitely еще than I could afford.
“Thank you,” Arthur says. “Wait till Ты try this tiramisu. It’s decadent. And I’m going to feed it to you,” he says, his eyes dark and full of promise.
Oh, God.
Part 4: link
“Dare,” Arthur mutters in Gwen’s ear, Поцелуи her neck.
“Arthur, we are in the middle of a restaurant,” Gwen protests mildly, pushing his shoulder lightly.
“We’re not in the middle,” he says smirking at her. “I specifically requested a secluded booth.”
“I thought Ты were being romantic, not perverted,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips now.
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” he declares, waving his hand dismissively.
Gwen laughs now, winding спагетти around her fork.
“So?” Arthur prompts, a glint in his eye. She sighs. “Make it a good one,” he challenges.
Gwen looks around. It’s dark in here. Long tablecloths on the tables. The waiter has just recently been. She reaches out with her left hand and takes his right hand, guiding it under the table. He scoots a little closer to her as she directs his hand to her knee. He can feel the edge of her юбка with his fingertips.
She bites her lip again, that same nervous habit, and watches a devilish grin трещина, сплит Arthur’s face when she gently pushes his hand, directing it up her thigh, beneath her skirt.
He knows now what he has been dared to do, and slides his hand up her inner thigh, caressing the silken flesh there, higher, until his fingers find the juncture of her thighs and the warm, slightly damp strip of silk covering his target.
Am I insane? Gwen thinks, remembering her tendency towards shouting. Then his fingers press against her and she realizes that she is most definitely insane.
“You’re very brave,” he mutters, casually reaching for his wine glass with his left hand while his right hand moves her panties to the side so his fingers can find her.
“I’m completely bonkers,” she whispers, her hand gripping the таблица as he slides a finger inside, pushing deep.
“God, Guinevere,” he groans softly, turned on by how wet she already is.
Arthur withdraws his finger so that he can круг it around that sensitive spot, adding a секунда finger now, increasing the contact.
Gwen’s mouth opens slightly and her breathing is heavy. A bus boy passes and she clamps her mouth closed. Arthur picks up his хлеб and takes a bite.
He continues his surreptitious ministrations, his fingers circling, rubbing softly, then plunging inside.
Gwen strives to appear calm, as if nothing is happening. As if this gorgeous man who she is hoping will be her boyfriend very soon isn’t doing deliciously sinful things to her beneath the table.
She lifts her right hand, gripping her fork, and shakily winds спагетти around the tines, almost losing her grip on the fork when his fingers return to their circling.
Arthur’s eyes twinkle with amusement and lust as he watches her, watching her unravel, watching how he can render her weak with just two fingers. He also feels his own erection straining against his trousers, and shifts slightly in his seat.
Gwen lifts the fork to her lips, and just as she puts the fork in her mouth, Arthur thrusts both fingers inside again.
“Timing is everything, Ты know,” he teases, his voice low and seductive.
“OhmyGod…” she breathes after she swallows, running the words together. “What… the hell… was I thinking?” she gasps quietly.
Arthur smiles at her, his eyes darkened by desire just from watching her. She’s close. She must be.
“This хлеб is very good, Guinevere. Nice chewy crust,” he says, picking up a roll and handing it to her.
“What?” she gasps, blinking at him. What the hell is he talking about? Bread? I’m about ready to burst and…
“Here,” he holds it up to her lips. “Bite,” he instructs.
Oh, she realizes what he is doing, and his thoughtfulness somehow proves her undoing.
She bites into the hard crust of the roll, giving it the brunt of her outburst as she comes, the wave crashing down over her. She presses her knees together and squeaks in the back of her throat.
“Can I have my hand, или are Ты keeping it for another round?” he asks, smirking.
She relaxes her legs, but mutters, “I’m going to keep that hand in the drawer of my nightstand.”
“Only my hand?” He laughs and leans over to Kiss her, softly and sweetly. Then he lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks the moisture from them before drying them on his napkin.
“Early dessert,” he chuckles. “That was fun.”
“That was insane; I don’t know what I was thinking,” she laughs, reaching for her glass.
“You were thinking that I owed Ты from lunch.”
“Perhaps. I have been kind of… pent up since then,” she admits.
“Well, now we’re even,” he gins. “However,” he adds, taking her hand and placing it on his groin, “this is a slight problem.”
“He’s going to have to wait,” Gwen says, patting him once, gently, and returning her hand to the table.
Arthur pouts again.
“Just until after dinner,” she leans over and kisses his ear. “You know, when we’re alone. Back at my place. или yours. I’m not fussy,” she whispers, licking, then nipping the edge of his ear.
Arthur groans. “Your place. Let your neighbors experience the joy of hearing Ты crying out my name in ecstasy, over and over…” he says, turning to nuzzle her nose with his.
“Somehow I think they’ll find it slightly less joyful than Ты do, Arthur,” Gwen says, smiling.
Arthur pulls away suddenly, leaving Gwen surprised, puzzled until she sees that he’s flagging the waiter.
“Two orders of tiramisu, to go. And the check, please.”
Gwen is quiet in the car back to her place. Arthur hopes she isn’t regretting what they did at the restaurant. It was her idea, though, he thinks, and decides there must be something on her mind.
He reaches over for her hand, and she holds it in her lap while he drives. She only speaks to give directions, though.
“Is there something on your mind, Guinevere?” he asks finally.
“Kind of,” she says. “Sorry, I know I’ve gone quiet.”
“Do I need to be worried?” he asks.
She squeezes his hand. “I don’t think so. I… I’m just trying to decide about something.”
“Oh,” he says, puzzled. Then, at a stoplight, he looks over at her. “Truth.”
“Shit,” she curses. “Will Ты be my дата to a ужин I have to go to on Saturday?”
He almost laughs. That’s it? “Of course I will,” he answers, reaching up to run his finger down her cheek. “You were worried about asking me that?” The light changes, and he hits the gas.
“Well, yes and no. It’s a work event, and we can bring a plus-one. Just an appreciation ужин for some of our clients.”
“And?”
“And…” she takes a deep breath, “I was kind of hoping that Ты would come, but as еще than just my plus-one.” She looks at her knees, biting her lip. “Oh, turn left here.”
Yes, please, Arthur thinks, obediently turning left. “You want to be able to introduce me as your boyfriend?” he asks softly.
She looks over at him, her lovely brown eyes wide and questioning. “Truth,” she shyly tries. I can play this game, too. “And stop here, Ты can pull in the driveway.” She points.
“Guinevere,” he says, turning the car off, “will Ты be my girlfriend?” I sound like I’m fifteen, he realizes, suddenly feeling ridiculous.
“Yes,” she whispers, smiling. “Why do I feel like I’m in school?” she laughs nervously.
“I know, I was just thinking the same thing!” he exclaims, laughing with her, the tension in the car broken. He leans over and kisses her. Then he looks at where they are.
“You have a house? We spent last weekend in my apartment, harassing the neighbors when Ты have a bloody house?”
Gwen laughs again. “Sorry,” she apologizes, leaning over to Kiss him. “I sort of inherited it when my dad died. It’s really not much; it’s small.”
“Still a bloody house,” he grumbles, but he is smiling as he exits the car and walks around to open her door.
Gwen grabs the desserts and leads him to the door. “Your apartment is beautiful, Arthur, shut up,” she says. And I’m certain that the rent on that place is definitely еще than I could afford.
“Thank you,” Arthur says. “Wait till Ты try this tiramisu. It’s decadent. And I’m going to feed it to you,” he says, his eyes dark and full of promise.
Oh, God.
Part 4: link
