18. Still Hungry
18
Still Hungry
The theater ceiling served as our starless sky. Prisms of light streaked across it, but I didn’t need a wish. I had everything right where I wanted it. Well, close enough.
Victor and I made out on the red pleather chairs, grinding out an agonizing, pleasant rhythm. Howls and banter on-screen drowned out the wet smack of our greedy lips. I rested one hand on the side of his neck. His pulse pounded under my fingertips.
Any second, I half-expected us to shred our clothes and become conduits of lust in one beastly form or another.
Our nails lightly bit each other’s skin, but they weren’t claws. Just exploring, groping, and clinging.
He massaged my ass, then slid his firm hands higher under my dress. His scalding kisses blessed my jaw and neck.
Was he going to bite me again? Kiss me senseless? Suck my tits?
I shivered with glee.
He played with the waistband of my tights, silently asking permission. I clung to him and lifted my hips. Yes, take them.
Maybe he would have me for dinner—right here on this makeshift bench.
I turned toward the screen to give him better access to my neck. The vampire in the movie was about to bite his bare-breasted visitor. The vampire paused and regarded the camera/main character almost like he was judging our hookup.
I grinned as Victor eased my tights lower. This was so much better than any adolescent grope session in someone’s basement.
Plus, my date knew what he was doing. He listened to my body. This man pulsed and purred every time I dragged my nails across his skin.
The vampire pulled the window shades, but not before his human neighbor spotted his extra-long fingers. I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to have those inside of me. But Victor was doing damn nicely even before that step. Removing my tights would take forever, though.
I wiggled my hips and arched my back. “I love this movie.”
He paused, then lifted his head. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s cute and funny, but legitimately—”
He kneeled and pushed his bangs back.
“Terrifying,” I finished quietly.
Why’d he stop touching me? Was I too into the movie?
Propping myself on my elbows, I nudged his thigh. “I also love what you were doing.”
His lip twitched up. “Thanks.”
A groan curled out between us. Was that his stomach?
Flushing, he eased back into his chair. “Perhaps we should eat. We don’t want our food to get cold, do we?”
“No, but are you sure you want to stop now?” I asked. “We might lose, uh, momentum. And you haven’t—”
“I’ll be fine.” He laid a napkin across his lap, but his erection tented it.
I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle a laugh. This was ridiculous. “Victor.”
“Yes?” His throat bobbed, and he gripped the napkin tight despite his otherwise calm countenance.
“You can finish.” I scooted closer, my veins tingling with ecstasy. “I want you to.”
“It might be…messy,” he whispered, his gaze drifting toward my lips.
“You have a napkin right here.” I plucked it from his lap, then kissed him soundly.
What would drive him wild? I slipped my hand into his hair and scratched his scalp.
Exhaling softly, he unbuckled his pants and took himself in hand.
I would’ve thought he’d expose himself, hoping I’d suck him to completion. But he pumped without breaking our kisses. The sound of slick combined with the ‘thwap’ of his hand against his clothes quickened my pulse. I wanted to touch, to see. His underwear blocked my view, the mass underneath throbbing and tantalizing.
Victor nudged me for another kiss.
If that was what he needed…
I kissed him and moaned, rubbing my breasts against his arm.
Shaking, he pumped faster. So close. He could barely reciprocate my kisses anymore, his mouth falling open to catch his breath. His eyes were screwed up tight.
Part of me wanted to caress those deep lines between his brows, urge him to unclench his jaw and kiss me better. But he needed release.
Napkin balled in a few fingers, I scratched his pubic bone, teasing, “Until you come, my pussy is the only thing I’ll let you eat.”
He shuddered and rolled his neck.
Good, but not there yet. What would push a guy like him over the edge?
My collar stung, a pleasant reminder of his bite.
Pleasure could come from pain. Did he prefer to give or receive?
I stroked his hair, then gathered it in a fist. He leaned into my touch and nodded ever-so-slightly. Was this what he wanted?
I kissed his cheek, then pressed my mouth to his ear. “Your turn, Mr. Sterling.”
I yanked on his hair.
His hips shot off the seat. Crying out, he pumped into my waiting hand–and the napkin that caught his warm, spilling seed.
“That’s it,” I purred, kissing his neck. “Give it to me.”
Moaning, he emptied himself, turning to brush his nose against mine.
It was almost sweet. Definitely sexy.
I caressed his hot, thick member through the napkin. It twitched against my hand. 'I’ve got you,' I wanted to say. To him, not just his dick. But that could’ve been ominous, so I cleaned him up instead.
With a final swipe, I gave him a peck. “All finished.”
His eyelashes fluttered like I'd just awoken sleeping beauty with my kiss. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” I licked my lips, fighting the rising urge to brush his sweaty bangs from his forehead. Somehow, that felt too intimate. My stomach twisted into knots. “Now, we can eat.”
“Yes, eat.” He blinked, his eyes wet with sleepy satisfaction.
How was he so pretty after orgasming?
His little smile killed me.
Shit, he knew I was looking. Staring at a guy on a first date wasn’t sexy.
I dumped the cum-covered napkin onto the empty pretzel container lid and reached for our next course. “What do we have here?”
I pried open the lid, steam warming my face and fingers.
“A beef bowl.” I smiled. Any meal was good if it had decent rice and veggies.
He stretched his spine. “Yeah, the other one’s a Caesar salad. I wasn’t sure what you liked.”
“Oh, right,” I said. He didn’t know me like that. “Both of those sound good. Do you have a preference?”
He shrugged. “Not really.”
Salad, even with a bunch of stuff in it, wasn’t always filling. To make it fair, we split the two meals, funneling some of the food onto the other portion’s lid. I busied myself eating and watching the movie.
How did we go so far without knowing basic things like what we liked to eat and drink?
Well, on some level, I knew his kinks because he bit me. I smiled and spread out in my seat. Maybe he was weird like me.
After eating his portion, Victor set his food aside and settled back into his chair. He rested his hand on my thigh, idly playing with the crisscross pattern on the front of my tights. My bare skin simmered underneath. Could he smell the arousal radiating off me?
If he wasn’t careful, he’d have to replace this chair. I crossed my legs and prayed my tights would contain my brewing needs. Not for sex, exactly. I looped my arm through his and leaned in, seeking heat.
His gaze flicked from the screen to me. He plucked my tights’ strings. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” My insides fluttered. Maybe I was still hungry.