Dinner and a Movie Read Online Free PDF Page A

and placed her right hand on the back of his seat to provide an eye-full. “Is that better, Mr. Clarke?”
    He pushed himself back against the door. “Yes, thank you Miss Bernie. That is very nice. Do you like them sucked?”
    “Please.”
    “Not now. Later.” He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and loosened it with a tug. “I will let you know what I expect.”
    Bernie whimpered. Her body wasn’t nearly done playing for the evening. The restraint she needed to wait made her ache, in every limb and crevice. She was fairly certain she could spend hours tasting the firm lips of Mr. Clarke, running her hands through the hair on his chest…a few dark strands appeared at the top of his shirt. She wanted to wrap her legs around his hips. She wanted…
    “Just to review, Miss Bernie, if I ask you to do something, I expect you to comply. Is that clear?”
    “Yes, Mr. Clarke. Anything.”
    “Good girl. Now, what do you want to see?”
    “Your pants off.”
    “No, what movie?”
    Bernie reached into the back and snagged her pocketbook. “I really don’t care. I don’t expect I’ll be watching.”
    He stopped her, grabbed her upper arms, and pulled her to him. Hard lips crashed down. Hot tongues mingled. Bernie sucked in a deep breath. His taste swirled through her senses. A hand grasped her breast through the thin fabric of her blouse. His nail scored across the nipple.
    Bernie hissed into his mouth, and pressed into the hand. More. It wasn’t enough. She squirmed against a fresh rush of moisture between her legs. Her womb clenched.
    He continued to tease her nipple. His other hand ran down her back, reached under her skirt, and massaged her buttock. One of those long, long fingers ran down her crack, collected a bit of moisture from her pussy and trailed back up. He pulled away.
    They sat in the half-light of the parking lot trying to catch their breath.
    “You make me forget myself, Miss Bernie.”
    She nodded. “You, too.”
    “Shall we go?”
    Bernie sat up, ran her hand through her curls and nodded. “Mr. Clarke, if you don’t fuck me within the hour, I just might go insane.”
    He got out of the car, rested his arms across the roof, and waited for her to appear. “Miss Bernie, I intend to fuck you until you can’t think anymore.”
     
    * * * *
    This was a very serious problem, Liam realized. Somehow during the evening, he had stopped worrying about where his interactions with the lovely Miss Bernie might lead. That didn’t matter. All he wanted, no needed, was her body wrapped around his. Her heat searing his cock. Juices making embarrassing noises. Like some ape, he wanted the whole fucking world to hear what he could wring from her lovely mouth. Pants, groans, screams… it wouldn’t be enough. A bed wasn’t needed, such luxury indicated sweet, soft emotions were involved. That simply wasn’t so.
    Her boots clicked against the pavement in a hurried tattoo. Eager, teasing, full of abandon. If this was a fantasy, he hoped it would never end. But it would. The sun would rise, and with it the pleasant buzz of constant arousal would vanish in a pop, the bubbles of hunger disappearing with the night. Which meant it remained up to him to build memories for both of them.
    She slowed, stopped, and drew his attention back to the present. Bernie stood in line, her arms crossed over her chest, a preoccupied expression tightened her mouth. Such responsive lips… His cock thickened. What would it feel like as she swallowed around his engorged member? He’d dig his hands into her scalp. She’d be naked, those large, peach colored breasts bouncing as she bobbed back and forth, taking him deep. He’d bump the back of her throat. She’d gag.
    He wanted to see her nipples—red, hard, hungry for his mouth.
    “Bernie,” he whispered.
    Her shiver almost brought him to his knees each time.
    “What?”
    “Drop your arms.”
    Her head snapped to the side, her eyes full of angry flame. “No.”
    He let the moment