Dinner and a Movie Read Online Free PDF Page B

grin threatened to break the expression, tugging at his right cheek. He rose up on his toes…in anticipation, perhaps?
    “Spread your legs.”
    She shuffled her feet apart, the heels of her boots clacked on the tile.
    “Wider.” He kicked at her ankles.
    Her womb clenched. The stance left her unbalanced. She’d fall right over. Or…
    His hand raised her skirt up to her hips. Cool air washed over her exposed ass.
    The tink of a drop of water threatened to shatter her focus. She wanted his flesh on hers…hard.
    He raised his left hand. She watched him stare at her ass in the mirror. Any trace of grin had vanished, replaced with sharp, graven angles of stress. What was he going to do?
    The hand came down. She hissed at the sting of the slap. Her cheek burned, and then the sensation slid into her pussy. Hungry for more, her arms began to give way. What would it feel like—cold counters against her breasts, pressing against nipples that required attention.
    “Push yourself back up, Miss Bernie. I am not done.”
    She started a silent chant in her head. Please, please, please…for what she didn’t know. Oh ,yes she did.
    He leveled another strike against her quivering flesh.
    “Ah!”
    “ Shhh .” His searing breath whispered at her ear. “You wouldn’t want anybody to hear.”
    Bernie bit her lips and settled for a small whimper.
    He laid on two more strokes, each one a little stronger than the last. “Are you ready for me, Miss Bernie?”
    Lost in a haze of lust, she managed a low, “Yes, Mr. Clarke. Anything.”
    “Good girl.” He kneaded the sore buttock with those long, strong fingers. Each motion reminded her of the restaurant, the sound of glasses clinking and her inability to give completely into the moment.
    There, that was it. Her arms shook with the effort to hold back as he worked one finger through her juices. He played around her tight rosebud. Wild Bernie Watkins…that’s what they all called her. But never had she truly been permitted to reach deep inside and let that animal loose. Would Mr. Clarke let her? Her body needed this. She felt empty, lost…
    Fabric rustled behind her. She rested her head against the cold glass of the mirror. The sound of a condom wrapper competed with the drip of the faucet.
    “Wider, Miss Bernie.” He pushed her feet farther apart again and then placed something on the counter; a small tube of lube.
    “You keep that on you?” Her voice sounded low, raspy, hungry…
    “You’d be surprised at its many uses. Now, look at me.”
    He pulled her blouse up, exposing her large, ripe breasts. Her nipples remained two peach colored points. He pinched them between firm fingers, and did not let off.
    The pressure felt lovely at first. Bernie hummed. And then it sharpened. Heated. Hurt.
    Just when she felt the cry of pain collect in her gut, he released her and began a slow circular motion around the pulsing tips. “What else will you let me do, Miss Bernie?”
    Panting, she answered without thought. “Anything.”
    His cock pressed against her entrance. Big. Strong. Hot. And surged inside, filling her. One large arm wrapped around her stomach and pulled her against his body. She felt the ripples begin inside and out.
    He massaged her breast for an instant longer, took one sore nipple between his fingers and pinched, hard. At the same time, he thrust.
    Lost, Bernie could do nothing more than tremble as the orgasm began. She rode the lovely soft, black sensations, resting her head against his shoulder. But more, she wanted more and he …
    Mr. Clarke moved his hips against her ass, his cock stretched her pussy, delightful sparks burst through her body. “Focus, Miss Bernie. I’m not finished.”
    The words urged her to collapse in a sweaty puddle.
    He hauled her up and gave her breast a small slap. The sting opened her eyes.
    “What did I say?”
    She licked her lips and swallowed. “Focus.”
    “Very good. Lean forward. Hands on the counter.”
    This was hard. So