Page 34 of Damaged Billionaire Daddy
Why was I responding this way? Never in all my life had I found an ankle erotic! To cover my confusion, I opened the mini-fridge that was tucked on my side of the vehicle. “Wine?” I asked.
“In this dress?” She shook her head. “I’d spill it on myself, for sure.
She had a point, and it wouldn’t do to ruin my plan before we even got started. “I got just the thing,” I said. I dug into a compartment concealed in the comfortable arm rest and took out a blue and white checkered plastic tablecloth.
It was sized to cover a large picnic table, which might have been a little overkill. But it would serve as a giant bib to protect the expensive, rented dress. Maybe I should have bought it. ThenI could have sent it home with her so no one else would ever wear it.
I spread the tablecloth over her. “That should keep the dress safe,” I said. “I’ve got some bagels and lox in here, pecan sandies, canapes, and white grapes. I put in a bottle of white for the trip down, and red for the ride back.
“Sure. One glass then,” she agreed. “Do you have any cheese? And maybe some crackers?”
“Sure,” I said. I hoped she was that easy to please for the whole weekend. I dug into my cache of goodies and pulled out an unopened box of snack crackers, then rummaged in the mini fridge for the goat cheese I kept there.
When my old injuries ached too much and I was taking pain meds, the soft Vermont specialty cheeses and plain old butter crackers sat easier on my abused stomach than burgers and fries.
I pulled out the goodies and offered her a choice of cheese rolled in dried blueberries or rosemary. She selected the blueberries, and I poured half a cup of wine into a plastic wine glass. Not really classy, but crystal wasn’t safe in a car.
Kandis nibbled at the cheese, an expression of bliss spreading over her face. Her stomach rumbled, and she giggled. “I think I forgot to eat. I was so nervous about getting something on the dress.” She took a bite of cracker, another nibble of the cheese, then licked some of the crumbs of cheese off her fingers.
They were long, delicate fingers with almond shaped nails that were either innocent of nail polish or coated with a protective clear film. Her pink tongue chased an errant blueberry, catching it just before it dropped off the side of her hand. She looked at the glass of wine, realizing that she would have to put something down or grow a third hand.
She looked so pitiful, I chuckled. I just could not help it. Her soft gray-green eyes had taken on nearly the same shade as thejade buttons. There were no tears, her lower lip didn’t tremble. But there was only so far a gentleman could push such a determined stiff upper lip.
I touched a button, and a small table folded out of the dividing wall. She set the crackers down on the table but did not relinquish the cheese.
I handed her the wine, and she inhaled the aroma of it, then sipped at it delicately. “Hank Dumont’s,” she said. “The pressing was about ten years ago. It’s a respectable year, and it is good, but not as good as Pop’s red.”
“No,” I agreed, because her grandfather’s wine was hearty, robust, and tasted like the hills on a summer day. Somewhat like his granddaughter, now that I thought about it.
Kandis nibbled some more of the cheese, the tip of her tongue licking a blueberry off her upper lip, and it was almost more than I could take.
I felt ready to explode. I wanted her. I wanted her now, and be damned to the dress. But she wasn’t that experienced.
Our first time had made that clear. And even though I’d spent some time educating her, she still had an innocence about her that was unexpectedly appealing. I corked the bottle, tucked it back in the fridge, then leaned over and kissed the blueberry stain on her lip.
She looked at me with those innocent eyes, a little startled. Then she kissed me back. She might not have been experienced in all ways, but it was clear she’d put in some practice kissing. Beyond that, she brought a sincere hunger to tasting my mouth that was erotic beyond belief.
I slid my hand under the tablecloth and past the frothy barrier of the skirt. She was right. There was enough fabric there for ten dresses, and way too much of it at the moment. But I persevered, my questing digits making their way through the defensive hedge.
I glanced up just in time to catch an expressive eye-roll from Caleb as he activated the privacy screen. My handfound stockings and a garter belt. Teasingly, I undid one garter.
Her eyes grew wild, and she tossed back the wine, having a presence of mind enough to set the glass down on the table.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, as my fingers spidered their way past stocking and found soft smooth flesh.
“Should I stop?” I asked, pausing my hand scant inches from my goal. Gods, I wasn’t sure I could stop, but I waited for her answer.
“No,” she said. Then, “Yes! What about the gown?”
“Fuck the gown!” I undid another garter, found a silky wisp of panties, and slid them down, hobbling her thighs. She was wet, so hot. “Last chance,” I said, slipping two fingers into that warm, moist cavern that was calling to me. Tight muscles closed around my fingers.
“I promised anytime, anywhere,” she gasped, arching to meet my hand, trying to open herself to me in spite of the panties.
That was all it took. I had permission, and I gave in to the insistence of my lower member. It was like a dive into paradise.
She was more than ready and tried to angle her hips to accept all of me. I had intended to hold back, but there was something about her warmth, the softness of the velvet, the slippery drift of silk. I was lost in a sea of sensation, keeping only enough sense to hold myself up off her enough not to crush her with my weight.
The elastic on her panties snapped, and she rose up against me, welcoming me, her legs pulling me in deeper. We caught a fierce, savage rhythm, kissing like mad things, and in minutes or an eternity we both reached a shuddering climax.
