you’ll be my bitch.”
God, that got me so aroused. I thought back to our shower together, naked, Donna in charge—Donna pressing her body against mine, the water pouring down, her hands on my breasts. And after that, our walk, Donna in my tee shirt, the night wind whipping it about, me, in heels, following her lead, and the gazebo show, and then Donna pinning me down, so strong, while they waxed my legs. It was all so hot. I wouldn’t fight to escape that fate—that was for sure.
"Me? Be your bitch?" I asked, my face a furious red—must have been the gin. Donna smiled and blew me a kiss.
"Be my everything," Donna said, and then danced away, her tan lithe body hypnotizing me in sinuous retreat.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Donna had me so worked up I barely noticed the dance music had stopped and that the waiters were serving the main course. Flush, flustered, and embarrassed at being flushed and flustered, I padded back to my seat at the end of the dais.
Be my everything. Donna was so hot. My pulse raced, and my skin felt extra alive. Dinner was served, but the hunger Donna brought out in me was sexual, and no plate of grilled salmon would satisfy that hunger. Goodness, I was feeling lusty.
The chair next to me slid back, and I turned to ask Brenda how mad she thought Donna was at me, but it wasn’t Brenda. Devon sat down next to me—Devon, with his killer bod, and spine-melting smile. I looked about for the waiter. I was hungry.
“Brenda and I swapped seats,” Devon said with a smile as he draped a linen napkin over his lap. Somehow Devon had managed to dance up a storm without messing up his tux. He looked like he belonged on the wedding cake.
“Oh,” I replied, “I thought you were Brenda.”
Devon was early. I wasn’t ready for him until after dinner. I had geared myself for that, and his early appearance by my side got me all flustered. I thought to put my hand on Devon’s arm, but then pulled my hand away. Suddenly I didn’t know what to do with it. I never had to think about what to do with my hands. I thrust my hands into my lap, and stared down. My hands twitched and rubbed each other while my pulse beat tom-toms in my ears. What was wrong with me? Why was my face so warm? My eyes were glued to my place setting. I placed my hands in my lap, where they couldn’t do any harm. When did I turn into an awkward idiot?
“I didn’t expect to see you again until after dinner,” I said. “You know,” and then I whispered, “in the Bride’s Chamber.”
“Oh, I’m still up for that,” Devon said, “but I thought we might enjoy eating dinner together.”
“That would be nice,” I said, still staring down at my plate. That would be nice—what the heck was wrong with me? I knew what I wanted to say— I am completely discombobulated by this change in plans. Please take your handsome bod and go away until after dinner . That’s what I would say, if I hadn’t just turned into an inarticulate idiot.
The waiter placed my grilled salmon and broiled shrimp plate in front of me. Now at least I had something to look at. I could feel Devon gazing at me.
“So, Amber,” Devon said, “I’ve told you that I restore classic cars, which is probably the only interesting thing about me.” I doubted that. He looked like he seldom had a boring moment in his life. Devon went on. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”
Myself? Talk about myself? No way. Boy, my dinner looked amazing. The salmon was grilled to perfection, and the shrimp were big and thick, with bits of cilantro stuck to the glistening bulges. And the greens! How did they get them looking so vivid and fresh? And…and…and… Gawd, I wished he’d stop looking at me.
“Amber,” Devon said, “if you’re trying to screw up the courage to tell me you’re autistic, it’s okay.”
“Maybe I am a little autistic!” I shot Devon a glare. “You
God, that got me so aroused. I thought back to our shower together, naked, Donna in charge—Donna pressing her body against mine, the water pouring down, her hands on my breasts. And after that, our walk, Donna in my tee shirt, the night wind whipping it about, me, in heels, following her lead, and the gazebo show, and then Donna pinning me down, so strong, while they waxed my legs. It was all so hot. I wouldn’t fight to escape that fate—that was for sure.
"Me? Be your bitch?" I asked, my face a furious red—must have been the gin. Donna smiled and blew me a kiss.
"Be my everything," Donna said, and then danced away, her tan lithe body hypnotizing me in sinuous retreat.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Donna had me so worked up I barely noticed the dance music had stopped and that the waiters were serving the main course. Flush, flustered, and embarrassed at being flushed and flustered, I padded back to my seat at the end of the dais.
Be my everything. Donna was so hot. My pulse raced, and my skin felt extra alive. Dinner was served, but the hunger Donna brought out in me was sexual, and no plate of grilled salmon would satisfy that hunger. Goodness, I was feeling lusty.
The chair next to me slid back, and I turned to ask Brenda how mad she thought Donna was at me, but it wasn’t Brenda. Devon sat down next to me—Devon, with his killer bod, and spine-melting smile. I looked about for the waiter. I was hungry.
“Brenda and I swapped seats,” Devon said with a smile as he draped a linen napkin over his lap. Somehow Devon had managed to dance up a storm without messing up his tux. He looked like he belonged on the wedding cake.
“Oh,” I replied, “I thought you were Brenda.”
Devon was early. I wasn’t ready for him until after dinner. I had geared myself for that, and his early appearance by my side got me all flustered. I thought to put my hand on Devon’s arm, but then pulled my hand away. Suddenly I didn’t know what to do with it. I never had to think about what to do with my hands. I thrust my hands into my lap, and stared down. My hands twitched and rubbed each other while my pulse beat tom-toms in my ears. What was wrong with me? Why was my face so warm? My eyes were glued to my place setting. I placed my hands in my lap, where they couldn’t do any harm. When did I turn into an awkward idiot?
“I didn’t expect to see you again until after dinner,” I said. “You know,” and then I whispered, “in the Bride’s Chamber.”
“Oh, I’m still up for that,” Devon said, “but I thought we might enjoy eating dinner together.”
“That would be nice,” I said, still staring down at my plate. That would be nice—what the heck was wrong with me? I knew what I wanted to say— I am completely discombobulated by this change in plans. Please take your handsome bod and go away until after dinner . That’s what I would say, if I hadn’t just turned into an inarticulate idiot.
The waiter placed my grilled salmon and broiled shrimp plate in front of me. Now at least I had something to look at. I could feel Devon gazing at me.
“So, Amber,” Devon said, “I’ve told you that I restore classic cars, which is probably the only interesting thing about me.” I doubted that. He looked like he seldom had a boring moment in his life. Devon went on. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”
Myself? Talk about myself? No way. Boy, my dinner looked amazing. The salmon was grilled to perfection, and the shrimp were big and thick, with bits of cilantro stuck to the glistening bulges. And the greens! How did they get them looking so vivid and fresh? And…and…and… Gawd, I wished he’d stop looking at me.
“Amber,” Devon said, “if you’re trying to screw up the courage to tell me you’re autistic, it’s okay.”
“Maybe I am a little autistic!” I shot Devon a glare. “You
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