Mated To The Dragon Of Manhattan (A BBW Paranormal Romance Book 1) by Amira Rain Page B
Authors: Amira Rain
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happy as I am."
All it took to re-ignite the ache low in my belly from earlier was the feel of his long, hard body pressed against mine for just a second. I wanted to continue embracing, and maybe kiss a little more, but just then, to my disappointment, the waiter arrived with our food.
While we ate, I fed him bites of my lobster, and he fed me bites of his steak. After maybe the third or fourth bite he fed me, he gave me another kiss, pulling me closer to him in the secluded booth and then keeping his arm around me. His woodsy, masculine scent and the feel of being wrapped in his strength, combined with the feel of his powerful, muscular thigh against my leg, intensified the frustrating ache low in my belly, and it wasn't long before I felt myself becoming incredibly slick.
About halfway through my third large glass of wine, I put my mouth near his ear and whispered, having an increasingly difficult time keeping my hands off of him. "I know you were trying to be nice this morning when you told me you'd give me a nice, relaxing massage this evening, but I just want to let you know that now I actually think it was mean. Because just the thought of it has been torturing me and frustrating me almost every second of this entire day."
He put his fork down, his dark gray eyes seeming to get a devilish gleam in the dim light of our secluded booth.
"Well, we can't have that, can we? I can't have my girl thinking her boyfriend's mean."
He moved his hand to my leg and began caressing it through the thin fabric of my red dress, the action making me choke back a whimper of desire, aware that although our booth was in a pretty private spot, other diners were still well within earshot. I could hear their chatter, which was muffled only by about ten or fifteen feet of distance and the tall mahogany planter that stood just a bit away from Truman's and my booth.
He moved his mouth to my ear and spoke in a husky whisper. "No, I can't have my girl thinking her boyfriend's mean, especially when all I want to do is be nice to her. And especially when I know she's just aching for some pleasure and release. Isn't that right?"
It was quite correct. The sensitive bud between my feminine folds had begun throbbing with need, and the ache low in my belly was positively demanding pleasure and release.
My voice came out in a breathy whisper. "Uh-huh."
Truman slid his large hand under my dress and moved it a little higher up my leg. "Then I shouldn't keep my girl waiting for some pleasure any longer."
He moved his hand a little higher still and began caressing my feminine mound through my black lace underwear.
I stifled a gasp, one of both surprise and pleasure, and I whispered. "But people could see."
"Nah. Not over the planter."
"Well, what if the waiter comes back?"
"I think the dim lighting and long tablecloth will help us in that case." He glanced at the table. "See? The tablecloth is far too long for him to be able to see anything."
I looked at it myself, realizing Truman was right.
After giving my ear a little nibble, grazing his teeth down the side, he continued in a whisper. "Just keep your expression fairly normal, or bury your face in my chest, and I'll be the lookout."
I nodded, far too turned on to refuse what was being offered. And not a moment later, Truman slid a hand down the front of my underwear and began probing my slick feminine lips apart with his long, strong fingers. He located my throbbing, sensitive bud almost immediately, and when he began stroking it with a single fingertip, his touch gentle but firm, I threw my head back, gritting my teeth to keep from crying out.
Still holding me close in one arm with his breathing a little heavy, he continued stroking my most sensitive spot for a little while before whispering near my ear again. "You have no clue what an exquisite creature you are. Or how much pleasure it gives me to give you
All it took to re-ignite the ache low in my belly from earlier was the feel of his long, hard body pressed against mine for just a second. I wanted to continue embracing, and maybe kiss a little more, but just then, to my disappointment, the waiter arrived with our food.
While we ate, I fed him bites of my lobster, and he fed me bites of his steak. After maybe the third or fourth bite he fed me, he gave me another kiss, pulling me closer to him in the secluded booth and then keeping his arm around me. His woodsy, masculine scent and the feel of being wrapped in his strength, combined with the feel of his powerful, muscular thigh against my leg, intensified the frustrating ache low in my belly, and it wasn't long before I felt myself becoming incredibly slick.
About halfway through my third large glass of wine, I put my mouth near his ear and whispered, having an increasingly difficult time keeping my hands off of him. "I know you were trying to be nice this morning when you told me you'd give me a nice, relaxing massage this evening, but I just want to let you know that now I actually think it was mean. Because just the thought of it has been torturing me and frustrating me almost every second of this entire day."
He put his fork down, his dark gray eyes seeming to get a devilish gleam in the dim light of our secluded booth.
"Well, we can't have that, can we? I can't have my girl thinking her boyfriend's mean."
He moved his hand to my leg and began caressing it through the thin fabric of my red dress, the action making me choke back a whimper of desire, aware that although our booth was in a pretty private spot, other diners were still well within earshot. I could hear their chatter, which was muffled only by about ten or fifteen feet of distance and the tall mahogany planter that stood just a bit away from Truman's and my booth.
He moved his mouth to my ear and spoke in a husky whisper. "No, I can't have my girl thinking her boyfriend's mean, especially when all I want to do is be nice to her. And especially when I know she's just aching for some pleasure and release. Isn't that right?"
It was quite correct. The sensitive bud between my feminine folds had begun throbbing with need, and the ache low in my belly was positively demanding pleasure and release.
My voice came out in a breathy whisper. "Uh-huh."
Truman slid his large hand under my dress and moved it a little higher up my leg. "Then I shouldn't keep my girl waiting for some pleasure any longer."
He moved his hand a little higher still and began caressing my feminine mound through my black lace underwear.
I stifled a gasp, one of both surprise and pleasure, and I whispered. "But people could see."
"Nah. Not over the planter."
"Well, what if the waiter comes back?"
"I think the dim lighting and long tablecloth will help us in that case." He glanced at the table. "See? The tablecloth is far too long for him to be able to see anything."
I looked at it myself, realizing Truman was right.
After giving my ear a little nibble, grazing his teeth down the side, he continued in a whisper. "Just keep your expression fairly normal, or bury your face in my chest, and I'll be the lookout."
I nodded, far too turned on to refuse what was being offered. And not a moment later, Truman slid a hand down the front of my underwear and began probing my slick feminine lips apart with his long, strong fingers. He located my throbbing, sensitive bud almost immediately, and when he began stroking it with a single fingertip, his touch gentle but firm, I threw my head back, gritting my teeth to keep from crying out.
Still holding me close in one arm with his breathing a little heavy, he continued stroking my most sensitive spot for a little while before whispering near my ear again. "You have no clue what an exquisite creature you are. Or how much pleasure it gives me to give you
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