The Grind - Part Three

   The couple saunter into the restaurant, and attract the attention of the staff immediately. They have become recent regulars, frequenting the Italian bistro every evening for the past week. The woman, a barista in a local coffee shop is dressed in plum tonight. Her lace backed dress hugs her curves and her black stilettos elongate her legs substantially. She’s small, the blond coffee-maker, but she carries herself with a confidence she didn’t have before she met the man she has been dining with this week. He is tall, broad; your average suit-wearing banker and isn’t short of a few sterling pounds. He too carries himself with confidence, oozing sensuality and intelligence. But it’s the way they are together, once like chalk and cheese, now like strawberries and melted chocolate -which they will have for dessert for tonight- that has heads turning the minute they walk through the lobby and to the host station. They ask for the usual table, a table in the corner with a view of the city, with winged leather seats, close to the fire because the lack of clothing blondie wears always leaves her chilly and requesting the banker’s suit jacket.
“A bottle of Sangiovese.” The tall dark and handsome man orders.
When the bottle arrives and the couple have mulled over the menu, they ask for five more minutes to decide, while the man sips on his bottled beer and his date caresses her vodka martini in her tiny manicured hands, while they wait for the Italian red to breathe.
The waitress leaves the table, unnoticed by the couple. She stops a few feet away and listens to their conversation, pretending to swipe at the till, for nothing in particular.
 
“How was work?” She asks, holding the little red straw between her finger and thumb.
Edward shrugs, “It was as good as a Friday can be,” he smirks, “although I’m looking forward to having you to myself for an entire weekend.”
She blushes, something that hasn’t stopped over time, and is something Edward revels in. He loves bringing a pink flush to her skin when he compliments her, knowing his trousers will tighten the minute she looks down, her lashes casting shadows on her milky skin, and reverts back to the shy girl he first met two years ago.
Their reunion has been one of sweetness and discovery. He found her, his blond vixen, and she found her extra-hot-triple-shot. It has been a romance made for novels. He swooped in like a knight in shining armour, and she was happy to be lifted into a bliss of buoyancy by his prowess and expertise in all things sexual.
“You don’t need to be shy around me, Angel.” He reaches out and takes hold of her hand, which is picking imaginary lint from the perfectly aligned napkin.
“I’m not shy, Sir,” her ice-blue eyes meet his, “I just wish we weren’t in a restaurant full of people. I’d like to do get our weekend started now.”
Edward clamps his mouth shut, stunned by what she said, and takes a mouthful of beer to compose himself. He’d always been good at control, allowing his mind to explore a woman’s body, without bearing the physical effects. But that was before he’d met his angel. All composure goes out the window when she’s looking at him in that way she has of heating his insides and bringing his impressive member to life.
She knows what she’s doing. She runs her tongue along her top lip before biting the bottom and winking at him. The tables have turned; for now. He’ll play up to her little game, let her see the desire for her burning in his eyes, and then the minute they get back to her little shoe box apartment he’ll pounce, giving her everything she’s created within him in the ten short minutes they’ve been in the restaurant.
“That’s how you want to play it, Angel?” He asks, using her pet name more as he begins to truly believe that she may have been sent from another realm to both tempt him and save him.
She nods her head, and strokes one expensively heeled foot along his calf. He closes his eyes as he takes in more beer and releases a sigh into the neck of the glass bottle.
“Can I take your order?” The waitress returns, and Edward contemplates telling her where to go, until they’re done whatever it was they were going to do before she returned and his angel stopped her torturous pleasure.
“I want the tomato pasta, please.”
Edward rolls his eyes, smiling. She’s ordered that every time they’ve been. Which in this week, has been every day. It was his idea to come here; the fire catches her hair and her highlights ignite and flicker away with the fire as she plays coyly with her hair, pretending she hasn’t seen this man stripped down to all his glory. And enjoyed every minute of it; he makes her feel like no other has before.
“And I’ll have the lamb shank. Thanks.”
Edward hands over the menus, simultaneously taking her hand, and stroking her palm with his fingers. She sighs in appreciation, needing other parts of his body on every part of hers, and takes a shy sip of her martini. She savours the taste as the alcohol slips down her throat, burning in the bottom of her stomach along with her growing arousal as Edward looks into her eyes and puts pressure on her palm.
“What do you want to do this weekend?” he asks, trying to ignore his angel closing her eyes and revelling in his touch.
“Do I have to suggest something involving us leaving the bedroom?” she asks, after a lengthy sigh.
The guttural groan that wants to escape from Edward’s mouth wins, and he tries to cover it by clearing his throat and reaching for the Sangiovese. He pours them both half a goblet each, before settling back in his chair and continuing his massage, eager to finish their meals already so he can whisk her home and abolish all thoughts of leaving the bedroom for the next two days from her mind.
“Cheers.” Edward raises his glass and they clink.
The food arrives and they both make a synchronised sound of appreciation as they inhale the smell. Edward’s cock twitches hearing the moan escape her parted rosy lips, and she squeezes her legs together as his dark gaze hits every nerve in her body.
“Eat up.”
He nods towards her simple penne and tomato sauce, knowing full well her appetite for ‘penne al napolitan’  has been fully extinguished. Her appetite for Edward, however, is burning like wild fire within her and she squirms in her seat as he causally, pulls the soft meat of his lamb shank off the bone. Oh heavens.
“Yes, Sir.”
Anyone in the restaurant at that moment who denies the sensuality the couple exudes would be deemed a liar. An act as small as eating a meal displays their desire for each other. Their gazes stay firmly locked on one another as they eat, lifting forkfuls of food painfully slowly to their mouths, closing their eyes as they taste the cuisine and imagine tasting each other. After each mouthful has been swallowed and savoured, they find their gaze again, cool blue and  emerald green colliding in a torrent of burning lust. Edward licks his lips as she wipes the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin and reaches for another forkful of pasta. She holds out the fork to Edward and he opens his mouth willingly. She slides the fork through his lips and her insides clench as he closes his mouth around the pasta and closes his eyes. She stands up, leaning over the table and kisses him chastely on the mouth before he even has a chance to chew, and sits back down in her seat. When Edward opens his eyes, she is licking her lips and nodding.
“The pasta is so good, I wanted to taste it off you.” She breathes, convinced that little act did more to her than it did him.
She was wrong. Edward’s body aches for her, for any morsel of contact she gives him and the taste of her lips, sweet from the tomato sauce causes a stampede of emotions in his stomach and makes him push his plate away, finished after just a few mouthfuls. There is nothing that would taste as good as his angel, so why bother allowing anything else to pass his lips?
“I think it’s time for dessert.” Edward smirks.
He needs to feed her strawberries dipped in the exquisite Belgian chocolate the restaurant has shipped in. He needs to see the juice drip down her lips and onto her chin so he can kiss it off and savour the sweet taste of her, the taste of her lips doing great things to strawberries and chocolate.
“I think I’d like you for dessert, Sir.”
Edward spins round in his chair, grabbing the attention of the waitress, clicking his fingers rudely in his haste to get her attention.
“Can we move?” he asks, much to the two women’s surprise.
“Where would you like to move to, Sir?” The waitress asks with parted red lips and flushed cheeks.
“There.”
Edward nods towards a booth in the far corner, hidden from the rest of the diners and big enough to seat eight guests, ignoring the desire written all over the poor waitress’ face. He does that to people; namely women, but a few men have fallen victim to his charming aura. Edward notices, he pretends he doesn’t because he has no need to entertain women and their damned fluttering when his angel is sitting opposite him and wondering why he wants such a big table just to eat dessert. She gasps; she knows exactly why he wants her there, and she too turns to the waitress and raises her eyebrows. Make it snappy.
“Certainly, Sir. Would you like to make yourself comfortable in the booth?” She looks at his dining companion as a pang of jealousy hits her and her lip curls up in disgust, “I will bring your drinks over and order your strawberries with the kitchen. On the house.”
A hand on his shoulder signals her goodbye and the second she departs, Edward is out of his chair and they are on their way to the booth.
He gestures for his angel to climb in first, taking great pleasure in watching her dress slide up her legs, revealing the black lace pants he bought her last week. She settles into the red velvet plush seating, teasing him by leaving her dress hitched just enough to see her parted legs and flushed skin.
“Holy shit.” He murmurs to himself as he slides in next to her and reaches his hand straight out to caress her inner thigh.
She squirms and tenses as Edward leans in and presses his lips to her neck, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent of her favourite perfume. She leans into him, cupping his face with her hand, feeling the stubble beneath her touch. He moans against her skin, the simple touch affecting him to the depths of his body and soul.
The waitress returns to place their drinks on the table, but they don’t notice her return, too engrossed in the alternate universe that they have created purely by being innately attracted to each other. And when Edward finally presses his mouth to her lips and their tongues begin a sensual dance to their own unique rhythm, the rest of the world disappears.
“You’re beautiful, Angel.” He whispers against her lips as their mouths part and they notice the white ceramic bowls of strawberries and melted chocolate. It is impossible to say how long they were locked in their sensual embrace, but the chocolate has began to set. Edward picks up a strawberry and dips it through the genache, before holding it against her mouth.
“Lick it off.” He asks, barely above a whisper as he watches her lick her lips.
She leans forward and gently licks the tip of the strawberry, capturing the silky chocolate on her tongue. Before she can taste it, Edward leans forward and takes her tongue between his lips, tasting the bitter chocolate against her sweetness. He sits back, his eyes glazed as he presses the strawberry to her mouth and watches the juice drip as she bites down. He wipes his thumb across her bottom lip, and pops it in his mouth, closing his eyes as he tastes and savours. His hand moves higher, stroking her through the lace as he retrieves another strawberry and dips in the sauce.
“Aren’t you having any, Sir?” She asks trying to sound unaffected by his touch as he offers her the second strawberry.
“I’ll taste it off you, Angel,” he says, moving her underwear to one side and sliding a finger into her.
She gasps, and bites down on the strawberry hard enough to stifle the moan that threatens to escape in a public place, busy with Friday night celebrations. Edward moves his finger at a slow pace, easing another into her to stretch her.
“Keep your eyes closed.” He says watching her eyes roll back as he sets a slow, torturous rhythm and reaches for the third strawberry, “hold it between your teeth. Don’t eat it.”
She does as she’s told, keeping the strawberry in her teeth, her mouth watering as both Edward and the fruit tease her.
“Don’t make a sound.” He whispers, his warm breath caressing her far better than the chocolate ever could.
The sounds around her become muffled; the noises of the other diners, the crashing of pans in the kitchen, the soft music crooning through the speakers fade into the background as all she can focus on is the sound of her breathing, the rushing of the blood through her ears, the almost flavour of strawberry in her mouth, and the feel of Edwards hand in the place she has craved since he left for work this morning.
“Shh.” Edward soothes as he presses something cold to her clitoris. Something smooth. All she can think about is the feel of it on her pulsing clit, and wonder what it is. The vibrations flood through her the second Edward pushes the little button and she throws her head back, biting down on the strawberry, but unable to chew. Then Edwards mouth is on hers and he takes the strawberry from her mouth, chewing on it before his lips find hers again.
“Edward.” She breathes, begging him for something, but unable to formulate the words to tell him to stop.
“Angel,” he takes her ear between his teeth, dipping his tongue out to taste her, “just feel it.”
She can do nothing but feel it as the now warm object buzzes quietly against her throbbing clit, and Edward speeds his fingers up, moving to stroke the spot deep inside her. She throws head back against the chair once more, pushing against it to find some resistance.
“I want to touch you,” she whispers, afraid others will hear, “Sir, I want you in my hand.”
“Then touch me, Angel.” He smiles through his overwhelming arousal, as she reaches for his lap, discovering his rigid cock waiting for her.
She strokes him, smoothing the burst of pre-cum over him with her thumb. She keeps her movements slow at first, afraid of where they can go from here, but as her body builds and climbs, edging towards the precipice, she speeds up. Squeezing, stroking, milking. Edward buries his face in the crook of her neck and tells her she’s a good girl.
“That’s is Angel,” he groans, biting her neck as his sounds of pleasure vibrate through them both, “come for me. I can feel it, let it go.”
The taste of strawberries on her lips, Edwards mouth on her neck, his guttural sounds of pleasure, his hand, the buzzing. She falls, tightening and clenching. Trembling and shaking. Crying out on the inside, but whispering his name on the outside as her orgasm hits and she rides wave after wave of shocks. The buzzing stops, but Edward continues to caress her, drawing out her release as he feels his own building.
“Angel.” He moans but she shakes her head. “Fuck. Stop.”
Two words he never wanted to say in front of his angel.
“Feel it, Sir.” She mirrors, and leans down.
She takes the head of his throbbing cock in her mouth, sucking and enticing his climax as her hand continues fast and hard. Edward grips her head, fisting to handfuls of loosely curled hair as he curses his release, coming gloriously and hitting the back of her throat. She continues to milk him until he convulses and begs her to stop.
She sits back and casually reaches for a strawberry, taking a bite and chewing seductively. She offers the other half to Edward and he eats it as he comes down from the high. Then she leans forward and licks the strawberry juice from his mouth, capturing his bottom lip between her teeth.
“I love the taste of you and strawberries, Sir.” She says, sitting back and drinking the rest of her wine.
“God, you’re incredible.”
Edward finishes the rest of his red wine with shaky hands, and calls to the waitress for the bill.
 
The couple pay up their bill and make their way out of the restaurant hand in hand, relaxed and sated, but ready to return home together to see where else the night leads them.
 
 
Erin watches her ex-colleague leave the restaurant, ignoring the table of old men in the corner clicking for her attention. She stands at the hostess desk and allows her mind to wander. She wonders what it would have been like to be Edward’s date. What it would have been like to have been fed strawberries and romanced. What it would have been like to receive the pleasure she saw him giving Innocent Abigail in the booth in the corner where they thought no one could see. And she wondered what it would have been like to be the one he went to the coffee shop for, and fucked on the counter at The Grind.
Yes. Erin saw everything. And Abigail didn’t even recognise her.