7. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
"This is a really new restaurant," I remark, looking around.
I haven't been to La Cacciatore before but I'm a sucker for Italian cuisine. It's always been too expensive for me and I've never had a reason to splurge.
I managed to bring a crisp fifty dollar bill with me that I had kept in my underwear drawer for emergencies, but as I gazed over the menu, I panicked that it might not be enough for my share.
"It's amazing here," Jordan says. "Their pasta is really delicious, but also they have these amazing shared platters. Would you like to get one with me?"
"Sure," I reply slowly, closing the menu. "I'm happy to go with the flow."
Our waiter comes over and before I can speak, Jordan takes charge, ordering a bottle of wine and some shared appetizers. When the waiter walks away to put our order in, he turns to me with a slight alarmed look.
"I'm so sorry. I should have asked if white wine was okay. I can change it."
I smile. "White is perfect actually. I've never been able to handle red very well."
"Me either," Jordan laughs. "So, we have the same coffee order, and the same preference for wine. I wonder what else we have in common."
We're in the corner half-booth, the dark maroon velvet seats, oddly comfortable. We're not quite across from each other, but there's still a small gap between us.
"I'm interested in finding out," I say genuinely.
"Me too," Jordan replies, looking at the waiter as he places a bucket of ice next to the table. I watch mesmerized as he pops open the bottle, perfectly pouring two glasses for us.
Jordan reaches for them, handing me mine. "To new beginnings," he murmurs, locking eyes with me. "And dry weather."
Laughing, I tap our glasses together. "Definitely dry weather. But yes, to new beginnings."
The wine is smooth on my tongue, little hints of fruit blazing my senses. It's probably the nicest wine I've ever tasted — and the most expensive. The closest I've come to expensive wine is a few glasses of champagne at my cousin's wedding a few years ago.
"So, tell me," Jordan says, leaning his elbow on the table as he watches me closely. "What is there to know about you?"
"Not much really," I mutter, cringing at myself. "I'm stuck at a dead-end job, away from home, and my car does not turn into a submarine. It's pretty morbid."
His eyes sparkle with laughter. "My car doesn't turn into a submarine either. Look at us, so much in common."
I can't help but relax at his words. He has a way of making me feel at ease, despite us being on two very different levels. "I do have a university degree though. I just haven't really used it yet."
"Oh? Let me guess… business major."
"What?" I gasp. "How did you know?"
Jordan lets out a deep laugh. "I'm also a business major. I was lucky to secure this job. It just kind of fell into my lap at the right time. Divine timing and all."
He trails off but I continue to stare at him, dazed. He notices my silence, pausing, as if questioning his words. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No," I quickly say, reassuring him. "I just like to think things happen for a reason too. I think that's amazing you've landed such a great job. You're obviously very successful and you enjoy it."
He frowns. "You don't enjoy it?" he asks, picking up on my undertone. I didn't mean to make it so obvious, but after Marco's tantrum today, I was still annoyed.
"My boss is an asshole," I tell him. "He's pretty hellbent on making my existence miserable. And at the moment, there's not a huge amount of opportunities available. But I'm sure something will pop up."
Jordan nods. "Absolutely. What about your roommate? You mentioned in our texts he works at home."
"Mm!" I quickly swallow my mouthful of wine. "He owns an IT consulting business. Mainly creating websites and stuff. Actually if I'm being honest, he offered me a job. But I didn't think it was a good idea."
"Why not?" he questions, intrigued. "You'd get to work from home too. Plus it sounds like you guys get along well. You wouldn't have an asshole boss anymore."
I grimace. "Isn't it weird though? Working with friends? What if something goes wrong?"
Jordan smiles warmly. "Sometimes they make the best working relationships. You already have a rapport and great communication, and it's more relaxing. I personally think it can be better for productivity if done right."
"Blaise keeps telling me I should quit," I start. "I nearly did today. In fact, that's the whole reason we met. I was coming home from work because my boss decided my life wasn't worth missing a shift over."
His face darkens. "Seriously? No way. Quit and tell him to shove it. You don't need that pressure in your life. The only pressure you should experience should be a good one." His gaze softens again, eyes glinting in the reflections of the dimmed overhead lights.
"Good pressure? I'm not sure I follow," I laugh, thanking the waiter as he puts a platter of oysters down in front of us.
Jordan cocks a smile. "I don't think you're ready to follow. At least, not right now."
I put the wine glass down, shaking my head. "Are you saying I couldn't handle it?"
"Maybe," he shrugs playfully.
I'm still not entirely sure what we're talking about, but I might be slightly competitive. "Oh, come on. Try me."
He shakes his head, sipping his wine. "I told myself I'd behave tonight."
My lips form an O as realization dawns on me. I grab my glass so I can hold onto something, to ground myself. Looking away, I give a little shrug. "You never know. I could be easily persuaded."
Jordan looks at me in surprise but I don't face him, deliberately playing with him. I give him a tiny smirk, still without eye contact, sipping my wine.
He shuffles closer to me, lowering his voice even though we're pretty secluded from nearby patrons. He leans down to whisper to my ear, his deep voice sending vibrations down my spine.
"Are you sure you want to go there, Sky? I'd back out now if I were you."
Looking over my shoulder at him, I give him the perfect face of innocence. "I don't like backing out of anything, Jordan. I thought we established that."
His eyebrows shoot up in unison as he quickly polishes off his glass. "Very well then. I'm interested to see how far this control of yours goes."
"My control?" I interject, pausing as his hand moves on top of my thigh. I tense up, trying not to look like a deer caught in headlights. No one in the restaurant has bothered to look over at us, but I'm worried they will hear the sound of my heart beating heavily in my chest.
"Last chance," Jordan warns, his hand sliding up my stockings towards the edge of my dress.
I swallow, trying to play it cool. "Do your worst. I can take it."
Famous last words.
Jordan grips my thigh, pulling my legs apart slightly. My eyes widen as I realize this is actually happening. I don't know what's come over me, but I don't want him to stop.
With my thighs now apart, his hand glides up my inner thigh, his fingers brushing appreciatively over the top of the stockings before scaling up further to my lace panties.
His fingers don't hesitate to pull the delicate fabric to the side, exposing me under the table. I silently gasp, quickly taking a drink to cover my reaction.
Jordan puts his free arm behind my head along the booth top, keeping our faces close together. "I want you to do something for me," he says with a deep rumble.
"What's that?" I breathe out.
He nods towards the table. "Pick up an oyster and try it."
My eyebrows furrow together but I reach forward, picking one up. Slowly, I open my mouth, tipping my head back. Just as I start to swallow, Jordan's finger slides between my folds.
I let out a jagged moan, quickly swallowing the oyster.
"That's it," he says, smiling warmly. "Enjoy it. They taste really good."
"They do," I agree, my face heating up.
He pushes his hand against me firmer, his finger finding my entrance as his palm brushes my clit. It takes every single ounce of control to stay still and quiet, as his finger slides inside my warmth.
"Fuck," he hisses under his breath, making me clench. "You're so fucking tight and wet."
My eyes flutter closed and I take a small breath before reaching for another oyster. "You should try it," I tell him, flirtatiously. "The oyster, I mean."
I offer it to his lips, his eyes flashing at me. His soft pink lips part, head tipping back as I pour it into his mouth. At the same time, he jolts his finger deeper inside of me, my body stiffening as I fight the urge to lose control.
"You're right," he mutters, sliding his finger in and out of me. "I definitely needed to try it."
"How about a second one?" I ask, grabbing another oyster.
Jordan smirks. "That's a really great idea."
I can't muffle the gasp as he pushes a second finger inside of me, my body tightening around him. I down the oyster myself, doing my best to fight the blazing sensation that's starting to rip me apart from the inside out. My body clenches around him again as I swallow the oyster, my eyes closing when his thumb finds my clit.
I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to fight this sensation, my whole body shuddering from his touch. We could get caught at any moment. And frankly, any fucks I have are no longer in the room.
His thumb circles my clit slowly as his two fingers slide in and out of my body, my thighs squeezing his hand in a viselike grip. He presses a soft kiss to the nape of my neck, whispering to me.
"I want to kiss you so bad right now. Are you going to come for me? Right here, right now?"
I shake my head. "Nope," I tell him defiantly. It's bullshit — we both know it. But I'm too lost in the game, having too much fun. The physical chemistry is on another level, one I've never experienced before in my life.
I never would have expected to do this. But here I am, and I'm ready to burn down in flames.
"Hmm," he hums, pausing his actions. "Maybe you're right. We should stop."
Slowly, he removes his hand, a small gasp of shock spilling from my lips. I'm aching, desperate for release, and he knows it. But he's calling my bluff, showing me that he has the upper hand.
Crossing my legs, I do my best to ignore the screams of my body, the frantic need for him to touch me again. Just in time too, as the waiter comes over to check on us.
"How is everything going, Sir?" he asks Jordan.
Jordan's arm around my back reaches down, his fingers stroking my exposed shoulder. "Everything is great so far. But…" he pauses, looking at me. "Didn't you just say we had to go?"
I look at him bewildered. There's a glint in his eyes, and I realize he's leaving it up to me to decide my fate. We can stay here and have a delicious dinner date, while I suffer in silence. Or we can go and finish what we started.
It's kind of nice that he's leaving that up to me, but also… it's a power move. There's no winners now, no easy decision. If we stay, we both suffer. If we leave, we both get our way but it means I've given in to him.
Let's be honest though — he already has me.
Turning back to the waiter, I nod in confirmation. "Can we get our food boxed up to go, please? We have a pressing matter to deal with."