He rammed me, harder and harder, until I thought I might burst from pleasure, explode from such fullness and force and so much desire.
The dishes crashed some more, and my half-full coffee spilled on the table, soaking the front of my blouse and my br**sts, but I was only peripherally aware of this, because the whole world disappeared, and I was just the tight little pu**y, wrapped around his desire, wrapped around his cock.
He thrust into my eager hole from behind, slamming the muscles of his abs plus his hip bones against my ass, our bodies slapping, the speed increasing.
I grabbed the edge of the table and started to pant, my second orgasm of the night building.
It was a strong one, coming from deep within, from deep penetration.
His c**k was stiff, and big, and pulsating with power. Despite the shock of his sudden movements, my pleasure rose up like heat waves.
He released his hands from my h*ps and grabbed me by the shoulders. He shoved me down against the table, and then he proceeded to f**k me even harder.
Now the table was banging against the wall, and I worried about the waitstaff walking in, and then I laughed out loud.
He grunted, “What?”
“Just that if someone walked in right now, they wouldn't see anything, and—”
He cut me off with, “No talking.”
I shut my mouth, closed my eyes, and succumbed to the sensations. Maybe it was the darkness, or maybe I'd been lulled by the pleasant conversation, but things had taken a strange turn. I can't say I didn't like getting it hard like this. He grunted like an animal, and it made me feel like a cavewoman or something.
All my nerves were lit up, and even though the room was black, I saw bright light. White light, pulsating to blue, then purple. We were merged, and I didn't know where he ended and I began.
My head pulled back, pulled by my hair. He still had one hand on my shoulder, but the other had a thick lank of hair, and he was pulling it. My scalp was stinging, but it felt so good.
I moaned and moved my body, tilting my h*ps up so he could penetrate me deeper. Impossibly deeper he went.
And that was what he wanted.
I felt his body behind me tense up as his orgasm began, and mine began in rhythm with his.
I imagined his hot seed spurting into me.
My walls shuddered, and I cried out as my own orgasm, my second, but even stronger than the first, shot through me like a bolt of lightning.
He was gone, then, pulled out of my vagina, and hot liquid landed on my butt cheeks as he came on my damp skin.
He pressed his balls into the crack of my butt and gently (now he was gentle!) rubbed up against me as he grunted and came on me.
We both paused, not moving, only breathing.
Then he pulled away, sighed, and went to sit on his chair. I still couldn't see him, but I could feel his body heat, hear him breathing.
I heard something clink. His belt buckle. He was getting dressed already.
“Hang on,” he said, and he dragged a cloth napkin across my butt and bare lower back, cleaning me up.
“Thanks,” I said, then I released my vise-like grip on the table and stood back up. My front was wet, and it took me a moment to realize it was from the coffee on the table. I didn't say anything about the coffee, or any of it, because … I didn't know why at the time. I felt uncomfortable. I'd never been taken so roughly, much less in the pitch black, by a man I hardly knew. I didn't know what to make of the situation, or the confusing emotions crashing over me, but I wished at least someone would turn on the damn lights.
“That was nice, Lexie,” he said, which made me feel a little better. I located my panties, put them on, and took my seat.
Something buzzed, and I startled and made an alarmed sound.
He said, “I'm just letting them know we're done.”
I rubbed down the front of my wet garments, making sure I wasn't covered in the sticky chocolate that had been drizzled on my dessert. I seemed to only have coffee on me, black, which wouldn't show against my deep eggplant-hued blouse or black skirt when we left, or so I hoped.
“You're quiet,” he said.
“Mm hmm.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
“I don't know,” I said coldly. As I adjusted my seat, I noticed I was already feeling a little sore in the vaginal area. I'd be doubly sore the next day, and that gave me mixed feelings.
He said, “Do you have plans … Monday?”
“That depends. What did you have in mind?”
“I need a little work done for me.”
“Work? I'm a professional organizer. That's what I do.” My voice was sounding icy. “I'm not some call girl you can call up at your convenience.”
Silence.
Finally, he said, “Lexie, I didn't think you were.”
“Good.”
“Good,” he repeated after me. “Now are you available Monday or not?”
“If it's for work, you'll have to go through Suzanne,” I said. “These are the terms of my partnership with her.”
“Fine,” he said. “I'll call Suzanne.”
Just then, the waitstaff person knocked at the door, came in, and told Mr. Thorne his car and driver were waiting at the back entrance.
The person left, having made no mention of a bill.
Something dawned on me, and I said, “Do you own this restaurant?”
“Among many other things, yes.”
“You might have told me that over dinner.”
“Why? Would you have enjoyed the risotto any less? Or any more?”
I squirmed in my seat. “Never mind. What did you have in mind for Monday?”
“I'll let you know,” he said.
“Um. Okay.”
“I have the number.” His chair made a sound as he pushed it back and stood.
“Great,” I said, pushing my chair back as well.
“Lexie, do me a favor and wait five minutes, until I'm gone, before you come out.”
My jaw dropped open. He wasn't going to drive me home? That was it?
The door clicked shut. He'd left.
And I was alone in the room with a coffee-soaked shirt and a sore seat.
THE END OF BORROWED BILLIONAIRE #3