“You’ll have to be patient, baby. This steak is expensive.” He chuckles, and chews on more of his steak.
He’s making me wait on purpose. He couldn’t care how much the steak cost. With every mouthful, it’s getting nearer to leaving, and the heat between my legs soars.
I wait patiently, watching him finish his meal, right down to the last pea, savouring every mouthful and teasing me by going so bloody slow.
He places his knife and fork together on his empty plate, leans back in his chair, and wipes his mouth with the napkin. “Shall we have dessert?” A cheeky grin spreads across his face, confirming that he’s doing this to torment me.
“You can have your dessert when you get home. You promised me. Are you all talk and no substance?” I say quietly, running my hand up his thigh, hoping I can torture him a little too.
He chuckles and peruses the dessert menu. “Chocolate mousse, crème brûlée, salted caramel torte.”
I snatch the menu from him when he mentions salted caramel. My hand reaches between his thighs, and I squeeze the bulge there, making him suck in a breath. He hardens beneath my palm as I glaze over the menu, not reading it, but staring as the words all jumble together.
“Steph,” He pants as I continue to palm his throbbing dick.
“Hmm?” I pretend to be reading the menu, but all I can think about is getting him home.
“Let’s go,” he growls.
I snap my head up and smile. “I quite fancy a dessert now.”
The server appears as if by magic, like he heard my words. “Are you ready to order desserts?”
“No,” Cal groans.
“Yes, can I have the salted caramel torte, please?” I squeeze Cal again under the table, and he glares at me, shifting in his seat. “What did you say you wanted? Creme brûlée, was it?”
He gives the server an awkward smile as I have him by the balls. “We won’t be needing desserts.”
I squeeze his balls tighter and his voice goes a little high.
“All right.”
I smile and relax my hand.
“Arrange for the desserts to be brought to our room.”
The server nods. “Certainly, sir.”
“Room?” I squish my eyebrows together.
“Yeah. You didn’t think I brought you here just for a meal, did you?” Cal stands. The bulge in his tight trousers makes my eyes widen. He turns to the server. “We’ll be ready for the desserts in two hours.” He takes my hand, leading me to reception.
“Two hours?” I gulp as he drags me to the front desk.
“Mr Richards,” Cal says, while tapping his foot impatiently. The man at reception hands him a keycard along with a load of pleasantries that Cal just doesn’t have time for. He snatches the keycard from him and whisks me to the lift.
“Two hours, baby, then you can eat your salted caramel dessert off my cock.” He smirks, pushing me up against the lift wall as it ascends.
“Can you last that long?”
“I told you my tongue can go all night.” He licks my neck, like flames licking my skin, and I’m about to combust.