her wineglass. “No, you do something else,” she agreed, lowering her lashes.
He moved his chair so that he was no longer sitting opposite her, but next to her. His hand slid underneath the tablecloth and settled on her thigh. She let out a little gasp as he found the hem of her dress and the warmth of his fingertips played against the sensitive skin.
“Still feel like you’re playing a role?” He murmured the question against her ear as his fingers slid right up to the apex of her thighs, stopping within touching distance of the panty-clad mound.
“No,” she said in breathy tones. Her lower muscles were tense. Every part of her wanted to move toward his hand, but she couldn’t very well grind herself against John’s fingers in the middle of a crowded… “Oh!” She let out a little gasp as he made it easier and cupped her pussy. “John,” she moaned.
His smile grew a little broader, and much more inviting. “Let’s say we skip dessert,” he suggested, tapping her pussy lightly through her panties. “I think we’re both done with playing pretend.” He leaned in and murmured soft words into her ear as he massaged her pussy. “This might not be romantic, but I want to be inside you.”
Sarah had no argument for him. John paid the bill and they left the restaurant hand in hand. The moment they stepped outside, John took his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder. Sarah did the same, but with her heels. Their joined sighs of relief made both of them laugh.
“This was Anne’s idea, wasn’t it?” Sarah grinned up at him.
“How did you guess?”
“Because I could imagine her at a place like that, but not you. Did she tell you to wine and dine me?”
“Something like that,” he admitted.
She let out a squeal as he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the truck to save her feet from getting dirty. Sarah loved his strength. She nuzzled against his neck, enjoying every step of the journey to the vehicle.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere I think you’ll like a lot better than that restaurant,” he said, settling her into the passenger seat.
Somewhere turned out to be their local fire precinct. It wasn’t quite as large as the main city fire department, and it backed onto a small wooded area, which was sort of romantic. The building was quiet and most of the lights were out, except a few at the top story.
“The fire station? Why are we here?”
“You have to keep it down,” he murmured. “They’ll be asleep. Come on.”
John scooped Sarah up out of the passenger seat and carried her around the back of the main building to an older structure, like a small air hangar. He juggled her for a second as he fiddled with the lock and then pushed open the door to reveal an old firetruck, half covered by tarps, but clearly carefully cared for. The chrome shone in the moonlight that was visible through missing panels in the ceiling, but it was something out of the 1950s. It reminded her of John in some way, old-fashioned but powerful.
“What is this, a museum?”
“We keep her around for sentiment more than anything,” he said. “This truck saved hundreds of lives, maybe thousands. You don’t scrap a workhorse like this.”
John opened the door of the firetruck and helped Sarah to sit up on the edge of the seat, her legs dangling out of the doorway. Once she was settled, he reached into the foot well and pulled out a couple of bottles of beer.
“Do all fire engines have a beer stash?”
“I put a couple in here… in case we came this way…”
“You planned to bring me here all along?” She smiled. “Now that’s romantic. Far more romantic than that restaurant.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He cracked both beers and gave one to her. “This is a lot more private, and it means something to me.”
“I can see that,” Sarah nodded, sipping her beer. It was quiet there, in the old building with the old truck and with John standing on the lower step, his height
He moved his chair so that he was no longer sitting opposite her, but next to her. His hand slid underneath the tablecloth and settled on her thigh. She let out a little gasp as he found the hem of her dress and the warmth of his fingertips played against the sensitive skin.
“Still feel like you’re playing a role?” He murmured the question against her ear as his fingers slid right up to the apex of her thighs, stopping within touching distance of the panty-clad mound.
“No,” she said in breathy tones. Her lower muscles were tense. Every part of her wanted to move toward his hand, but she couldn’t very well grind herself against John’s fingers in the middle of a crowded… “Oh!” She let out a little gasp as he made it easier and cupped her pussy. “John,” she moaned.
His smile grew a little broader, and much more inviting. “Let’s say we skip dessert,” he suggested, tapping her pussy lightly through her panties. “I think we’re both done with playing pretend.” He leaned in and murmured soft words into her ear as he massaged her pussy. “This might not be romantic, but I want to be inside you.”
Sarah had no argument for him. John paid the bill and they left the restaurant hand in hand. The moment they stepped outside, John took his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder. Sarah did the same, but with her heels. Their joined sighs of relief made both of them laugh.
“This was Anne’s idea, wasn’t it?” Sarah grinned up at him.
“How did you guess?”
“Because I could imagine her at a place like that, but not you. Did she tell you to wine and dine me?”
“Something like that,” he admitted.
She let out a squeal as he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the truck to save her feet from getting dirty. Sarah loved his strength. She nuzzled against his neck, enjoying every step of the journey to the vehicle.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere I think you’ll like a lot better than that restaurant,” he said, settling her into the passenger seat.
Somewhere turned out to be their local fire precinct. It wasn’t quite as large as the main city fire department, and it backed onto a small wooded area, which was sort of romantic. The building was quiet and most of the lights were out, except a few at the top story.
“The fire station? Why are we here?”
“You have to keep it down,” he murmured. “They’ll be asleep. Come on.”
John scooped Sarah up out of the passenger seat and carried her around the back of the main building to an older structure, like a small air hangar. He juggled her for a second as he fiddled with the lock and then pushed open the door to reveal an old firetruck, half covered by tarps, but clearly carefully cared for. The chrome shone in the moonlight that was visible through missing panels in the ceiling, but it was something out of the 1950s. It reminded her of John in some way, old-fashioned but powerful.
“What is this, a museum?”
“We keep her around for sentiment more than anything,” he said. “This truck saved hundreds of lives, maybe thousands. You don’t scrap a workhorse like this.”
John opened the door of the firetruck and helped Sarah to sit up on the edge of the seat, her legs dangling out of the doorway. Once she was settled, he reached into the foot well and pulled out a couple of bottles of beer.
“Do all fire engines have a beer stash?”
“I put a couple in here… in case we came this way…”
“You planned to bring me here all along?” She smiled. “Now that’s romantic. Far more romantic than that restaurant.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He cracked both beers and gave one to her. “This is a lot more private, and it means something to me.”
“I can see that,” Sarah nodded, sipping her beer. It was quiet there, in the old building with the old truck and with John standing on the lower step, his height
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