Thirty
ANGELO
E ver the gentleman, Angelo let Allison order first. She rattled off the name of some French dish that sounded like poetry when she said it, even if he had no idea what half of it meant. Angelo stuck with pasta—a safe choice when he was too distracted to decipher the menu. But once the waiter vanished, leaving them alone, Angelo realized there was no avoiding the woman across from him.
“So… about that wife of yours,” Allison teased, her voice light but her eyes holding a mischievous glint. Angelo cursed her perfect attention span.
Of course, she wouldn’t let that go.
“Don’t you think you should at least ask her out on a date first?”
Angelo straightened up, catching onto her playful tone. “And what would you call this, then?”
“Well, if this is a date, it’s not a very good one.”
Angelo chuckled at her dramatics. “Why is that, Pinkie?” The nickname slipped out smoothly, a habit by now.
“I’m so glad you asked, darling.” She sat up, hands clasped in front of her like she was about to give a TED talk, and Angelo felt his body react immediately. There was something wildly appealing about the casual way she said “darling”—like it was no big deal, when for him it felt like an electrical surge through his veins.
“Angelo? You okay?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she raised a brow.
He cleared his throat, trying to recover some semblance of dignity. “Yeah, fine.”
Allison gave him a knowing smile before continuing her mock lesson. “First, you’re supposed to actually ask someone on a date. Step one, very basic. Even kids in middle school get that part right.”
Angelo shook his head, thoroughly entertained as their appetizer arrived. The salad was surprisingly good—seasonal greens and vinaigrette that didn’t feel like rabbit food for once. He poured some wine into his glass, eyeing Allison’s sparkling water. “Alright, fine. Would you like to go on a date with me, Allison?”
Her fork hovered for a second, a smile spreading across her face. “Yes, you big oaf.”
Angelo grinned like a fool, relaxing into the booth. This was their first real date—officially, anyway. Not just grabbing food between work and life or running into each other’s arms at odd hours. A proper sit-down meal, even if he had to coerce her a bit.
I should write today’s date down somewhere, mark it as the start of something official.
Stretching his arm behind her on the booth, Angelo leaned back, his smile never fading. “So does this mean I can call you my wife now?”
Allison blushed—deeply, intensely. It was adorable. “We’re not even dating yet.”
“Sweet girl, you’re pregnant with my child. I think we’re past the ‘dating’ phase.”
She shot him a look, her emerald eyes darkening in a way that made his pulse quicken. Angelo loved that look—the one where she was debating between laughing at his antics or smacking him upside the head.
Just then, the waiter reappeared, and Angelo cursed the bad timing. Allison’s stomach growled audibly, and while it was cute, it also meant she was hungry. No man should stand between a pregnant woman and her food.
Once their main courses arrived, they fell into a comfortable silence, the earlier teasing hanging between them like a cozy blanket. Angelo watched her out of the corner of his eye as she ate, the contentment on her face making his chest warm.
Yeah, I could get used to this.
Angelo kept stealing glances at her between bites of his pasta—surprisingly good, considering the situation—trying to read Allison’s reaction to what he said. Her eyes were downcast, focused on her fricassee, her head tilted just enough to hide her expression. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, and it was driving him crazy.
The anticipation gnawed at him, tightening his chest. Then, as if she sensed his growing tension, Allison finally looked up. The breath he hadn’t realized he was holding eased from his lungs. Her gaze, a serene pool of green, held no trace of the anger or frustration he feared.
“You’ve got something there,” she said, her voice light as she gestured to her own chin with the back of her fork.
He blinked, momentarily disoriented. “Huh?”
Allison giggled, shaking her head. Without warning, she leaned in and swiped her thumb across his chin, wiping away the stray sauce. Then, slowly, she brought the finger to her lips, locking eyes with him as she sucked it clean. A low hum escaped her throat. “Delicious,” she whispered.
Angelo’s body reacted instantly, heat coursing through him as he struggled to keep his composure. He was frozen, trapped in the charged moment, barely able to breathe. His mind raced, but his body remained still, every muscle tense, every nerve on fire.
That. Was. Hot.
“Careful,” he warned, his voice dropping into a dangerous rumble, like a hungry lion catching a glimpse of its prey. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
Allison’s lips curved into a wicked smile, her hum sending a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock. “Who says I can’t finish?” she whispered, as her hand slipped under the table, fingers grazing his thigh before finding their target.
Oh.
His breath hitched. Not just a teasing touch—her hand was firmly stroking his painfully hard dick through his trousers, hidden from view in the secluded booth. No one around them would even notice f she got underneath the table to suck him off. He bit down hard on his lip to stifle a groan, forcing himself to stay calm, to stay still.
“What—shit—what are you doing, Allison?” His voice was strained, his control slipping with each stroke from this woman’s sinful hand.
She placed a finger against his lips, silencing him. “Shh,” she murmured. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we, darling?”
Angelo swallowed hard, gripping the smooth fabric of the booth beneath him as Allison’s fingers fumbled with his zipper. In a moment, she had tugged his underwear down and freed him from the tight confines of his pants.
It was torture.
The cool air of the restaurant hit his heated skin, sending a sharp jolt of sensation through him as his cock throbbed in her hand. She let a drop of spit fall onto the head, spreading it with a slow, deliberate motion. A satisfied hum left her lips.
“Fuck. You’re killing me, sweet girl,” he rasped, cursing his decision to bring her out in public. He couldn’t ravish her the way he craved.
Or maybe I can.
The thought came suddenly, electrifying his mind. His gaze swept across the restaurant, taking stock of the other diners. No one was paying attention. He groaned as Allison’s grip tightened, pushing him dangerously close to the edge.
He had to act now or he risked cumming all over the red-and-white plaid tablecloth.
“Get on my lap.”
Allison froze, her hand stilling on him. Her breath hitched, eyes darting to his. “What?” she whispered.
Angelo gently removed her hand from his aching cock, his voice a low command. “Get on my fucking lap, right now.”
Her eyes widened, the confidence she’d displayed moments ago faltering as she glanced nervously around the restaurant. “We’ll be seen,” she whispered, a hint of panic creeping into her voice.
“If you don’t climb on my cock in the next five seconds,” he growled, “I’ll make sure everyone in this restaurant sees.”
She whimpered softly, her hesitation sending a fresh wave of arousal crashing through him. His cock pulsed painfully, the tension between them mounting as her gaze flickered around the room once more. Impatient, Angelo grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. There was fear there, but also something darker, something hungry.
“Ride me, pet,” he whispered, his voice rough with need.
Allison hesitated, then shifted in his direction, her mind clearly racing. He could see her problem-solving expression—the one he adored—as she tried to figure out how to straddle him without drawing attention. The sight almost undid him.
The next time she makes that face, he thought hungrily , I’m going to fuck her mouth.
“Do you—”
“Shhh! I’m thinking,” she said breathlessly, her focus half on him, half on the logistics of the situation.
Angelo chuckled softly, his cock straining painfully as he watched her turn and discreetly settle sideways in his lap, her back to the restaurant. He helped bunch up her dress, and with one swift movement, he was buried deep inside her. A deep, relieved breath escaped him as he rested his forehead on her shoulder.
“How do you feel this fucking incredible every time?” he murmured, the question more to himself than to her. It felt like a prayer, a plea to the gods, because this couldn’t be real.
Allison moaned in response, her hips rolling instinctively, but Angelo’s hands tightened on her waist, stopping her. “Not yet.”
“But—”
“Not,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear as the waiter approached to clear their table, “yet.”
“Was everything to your liking, sir?” The waiter’s voice broke through the haze, oblivious to what was happening beneath the table.
Angelo cleared his throat, struggling to regain control. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Would you like some dessert?”
Like you wouldn’t believe, he mentally grumbled.
“Yes, we’ll take two chocolate cheesecakes, please,” he said instead, wishing to torture this sweet woman in his lap a bit more.
The waiter nodded politely and headed toward the kitchen. As soon as he was gone, Allison let out a shaky breath, thighs pressing together, but otherwise staying perfectly still.
“Can I move now?” Her voice was soft, needy, laced with desperation.
Angelo smirked, feeling the power he had over her and deciding to tease a bit longer. “I think my cock needs some warming first.” He was torturing himself as much as her, but the tension between them was intoxicating. “If you stay perfectly still like a good pet, I’ll let you come. Understand?”
Allison’s eyes fluttered shut, her expression strained, but she nodded, remaining frozen on his lap.
“Good girl.”
She moaned softly, and Angelo quickly masked the sound with a small cough, making sure no one around them noticed. He could feel her tightening around him, her body trembling with need, and it thrilled him to know how much he was driving her wild.
Leaning in, he breathed in the intoxicating scent of her skin, a scent he wished he could keep for himself forever. “If only you could see what I’m seeing right now, Allison,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. She was drenched, her arousal seeping through, soaking him. “You’re a goddess, a fucking gift of nature. An Aphrodite made just for me.” He shifted inside her, and she whimpered, her body squeezing him in response.
“I can’t—”
“Shh,” he murmured, cutting her off. “Quiet, ómorfi . The desserts are here.”
As if on cue, the waiter returned with only one slice of chocolate cheesecake instead of two, but Angelo couldn’t care less. Not when he was buried deep inside her, lost in the heat of her body. Nothing could disturb this moment.
He was in Heaven.
He picked up the fork, cutting a small piece and bringing it to her lips. “Open.”
He fed her slowly, each bite a deliberate act of control. With every movement of the fork, he made the slightest of thrusts inside her, savoring the way she clenched tighter around him, the way her arousal slicked down his length. She was trapped in a whirlwind of sensations—moaning softly, taking each bite, her body pulsing with need.
By the time the dessert was finished, Angelo was at the brink, his self-control hanging by a thread.
“Now,” he whispered in her ear, his voice thick with lust, “you’re going to sit there, and take this cock like the good little pet you are. And you’re not going to make a sound. Understand?”
Allison nodded, her eyes closed, her breath shallow. “I’ll be quiet.”
“Good. Fucking. Girl.” He punctuated each word with a subtle thrust, barely noticeable to anyone else, but hard enough to drive her mad with need.
His hips began to move in slow, agonizing circles, heightening the tension between them. Angelo’s grip on her waist tightened, his hand slipping under the tablecloth to find her clit. He kept thrusting into her, right there in the open, his fingers teasing her little bundle of nerves as she grew more tense, until she tightened around him, gripping him completely.
She was a vice, squeezing him so tightly that he could barely hold on.
It didn’t take long. Allison came quietly, her body trembling in his lap as she bit down on his neck to stifle her moans. The thought that she might leave a mark, her heat, her wetness, the way she pulsed around him—Angelo was right behind her, his release barreling through him after only a few more thrusts. He spilled deep inside her, the sensation overwhelming, possessive.
Angelo held her close, savoring the aftermath, the way she felt with his seed buried inside her. She was his, in every way that mattered, and nothing in the world felt more perfect than that.
They made it back home forty minutes later, still buzzing from their escape.
It had taken them a good ten minutes just to figure out how to leave the restaurant without, well, leaving behind any evidence of their little booth adventure. After a few minutes of Allison trying to think through logistics—and Angelo almost getting hard again just watching her think—they decided the safest option was a quick exit. Angelo requested the check, left a generous tip (partly out of guilt for the poor cleanup crew), and they slipped out without drawing any attention.
Luckily, nothing had dripped between Allison’s thighs, and his dark pants hid any trace of her arousal. They burst into giggles on the way home, the absurdity of what they’d just done sinking in. They’d actually had sex in a crowded restaurant, in broad daylight, and no one had noticed. The thrill of it was still heating Angelo up.
“Did you make the fucking food?” Katerina’s voice rang out the moment they walked through the door, her annoyance unmistakable.
Perfect. Just what I needed.
Angelo rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him. “What now, mikrí ?”
Her eyes flared. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been gone for three hours! That’s not lunch, it’s a damn holiday!”
“Oh, relax,” he muttered, noticing the way Allison’s eyes widened.
“Johnny!” Allison suddenly exclaimed, her hands flying up as she spotted her eldest brother lounging on the couch behind Katerina.
Crap, crap, crap!
Angelo recovered quickly, offering a smile. “Johnathan! We weren’t expecting you.”
Translation: Why the hell are you here?
He noticed Katerina giving him a look—one that screamed help but he wasn’t about to jump in the middle of whatever was going on here. He just took a seat at the far end of the couch, putting as much space between himself and Johnathan as possible.
“Clearly,” Johnathan said dryly, his voice lazy as he leaned back, completely at ease.
Allison, ever the peacemaker, chuckled and hurried over to give her brother a hug. “I missed you, Johnny.”
Johnathan sighed but hugged her back. “How many times do I have to tell you, Ali? Don’t call me that.”
Angelo smirked. “My sister does the same thing, John.”
“Hey, leave me out of this!” Katerina called from the kitchen, her voice echoing through the open space.
Johnathan’s brow furrowed as he glanced between Katerina and Angelo. “Wait—she’s your sister?”
Angelo burst out laughing, enjoying his confusion. “Uh, yeah. Why else do you think she’s here in the middle of the day?” He couldn’t stop snickering at Johnathan’s slow realization.
Johnathan cursed under his breath, shaking his head. Angelo’s laughter only grew, and soon Allison joined in, her head thrown back, eyes sparkling, clutching her stomach. Even amidst the chaos, she looked beautiful.
Katerina reappeared, looking flustered as she glanced around. “What’s going on?” When she realized it was just laughter, she rolled her eyes and muttered, “You’re all crazy.”
Johnathan’s gaze shifted to Katerina, lingering on her a beat too long. Katerina noticed and, predictably, didn’t let it slide.
“What are you staring at?” she snapped, her tone sharper than necessary.
Johnathan blinked, caught off guard. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Katerina shot back, her eyes narrowing as she took a step toward him.
Johnathan’s expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Should I be looking at something?”
Katerina crossed her arms, lips twitching into a sarcastic smile. “Only if you’re looking for trouble.”
Angelo sighed internally, cursing his sister’s flirtatious ways.
“Katerina,” he cut in, trying to de-escalate whatever weird energy had just taken over the room.
She shot him an irritated look but didn’t break her stare-down with Johnathan. “What? He—”
“Is Allison’s brother,” Angelo reminded her gently, hoping that connection would cool her temper.
Katerina huffed, but finally stepped back, rolling her eyes in annoyance. She didn’t apologize—of course not—but at least she didn’t escalate things. Instead, she turned on her heel and headed upstairs, leaving behind a tension that was almost palpable.
Johnathan’s gaze followed her for a second longer than Angelo was comfortable with. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something simmering between the two of them—something he wasn’t sure he liked.
Allison cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence. “So, John, what brings you here?”
Johnathan tore his gaze from the stairs, his smirk lingering as if nothing had just happened. “Right. I had something important to talk about.”
Allison crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “And you couldn’t just call?”
Johnathan nodded, his easygoing demeanor fading. “Dad called me yesterday.”