When she walks away, I try my fucking hardest not to watch, but my eyes don’t seem to care and follow the curves of her frame all the way through the sea of tables. My blood rushes through my veins, a vision invading my thoughts of having her come undone at the table with people just a few feet away. How she’d have to muffle her moans and hide the orgasm ripping through her as nearby couples enjoyed their Costolette Brasato. The thought is sudden and reminds me why this didn’t work back then and why it definitely wouldn’t work now. Mia has always been the type to stay out of everyone’s line
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