Sitting across from her, watching as she dug into the plate of plain pancakes, licking syrup from her lips and the fork she held, Jaz was seriously regretting the choice of going out for food. He could have taken her to his place and made her pancakes. He could have had her naked in his kitchen, well, naked but for those boots. Holy fuck those boots. Settling her up on his countertop, licking her, eating her, fucking her with his tongue.
Hell, he’d love to take her on the hood of his car, on the trunk, in the seats, up against the door. And while he was torturing himself with images of her in all manner of sexual positions, she was calmly eating her birthday treat. Or one of them.
He wanted the next piece of meat she put in her mouth to be his cock not another piece of bacon. He wanted the next drink she took to be from his cock not from the glass of milk in front of her. He wanted the next wipe of her mouth to be from his tongue not from the napkin in her lap.
He wanted to be the feast she devoured.
The hots he’d had for her all these months hadn’t been tempered at all from their fuck earlier, not that he’d expected them to. He’d spent too long imagining her dark hair spread out on his pillows, those boots hooked around his hips, those blue eyes staring up at him, except now that he’d seen her without the costume, those hots were threatening to boil over. She was so real in all her reactions, so honest in her actions, and he’d finally tasted those lips he’d wanted for so long. He’d held her delectable body against his and she fit so perfect. And the spark in her eyes when she—
“What’s wrong?”
Jaz wasn’t sure he could find his voice. “Nothing, why?”
“You’re staring at me like… It’s the look you would give me at Katz, like you wanted to eat me instead of the food you were ordering.”
“Like it or hate it?”
She blushed again and his dick hardened more than he thought possible.
“Kinda like it.”
“Good.” He took a bite of his own pancakes, blueberry with blueberry and maple syrup but minus the whipped cream. He needed to occupy his mouth so he didn’t pull her across the table and scare the crap out of the waitresses and other customers.
He still watched her though, never taking his eyes from her face. He couldn’t get over how much he loved seeing her this way, without all the makeup. Even at one in the morning she looked so beautiful, so fresh, and she was so wrong. He wasn’t looking at her like he did at Katz on the nights she waited his table. No, he was pretty sure the look in his eyes was much stronger now, much darker, much hotter. He wanted to eat her alive, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Then he wanted to snack on her, nibble at her lips, at the insides of her thighs, behind her knees and delve into the secrets of her bellybutton.
He needed something else to focus on. “How long have you and Jackie been friends?”
“We met in high school, were sort of friends. I helped her out with her homework and when I went off to college, she…”
“She went into adult entertainment,” he finished for her. “She was supposed to be in college too but started dancing instead.”
She nodded. “Yeah. She liked it though. She didn’t mind being a stripper, being a dancer. She liked the money, liked the girls, liked the attention. And she had a great body, different than most. She had a figure, which made her even more money.”
Jaz knew and understood all that. He’d hated Jackie working the pole, doing private parties. She’d been his sister, for shit’s sake. His foster sister, but the feelings they had toward one another were no less strong than had they shared the same blood. She’d loved what she did though, and she’d never regretted the choices she made. Hell, Katz was a booming business. She had plans to expand into the online market and was even considering a second location somewhere in Georgia.
“She talked about you, you know. In letters. While I was at college and she was working, we wrote letters a lot. She said you made her promise to take self-defense classes. I’m really glad you did. I worried about her.”
Jaz shrugged. “I wasn’t around to protect her, to stand up for her. I needed to know she could defend herself.”
“That’s what she said. That’s why she did it, why she promised.”
“Did she tell you why I couldn’t be there for her?”
“Yes.”
And she took that moment, that one serious moment to use that tongue of hers on her fork. It snaked out and licked at a drop of the liquid sugar before it could drip back onto the plate. His dick ached painfully under the table. He had to force himself not to reach down and adjust himself. The damn woman was hell on him.
“It doesn’t bother you?” he managed to croak out.
“What? That you were in jail for a bit? No. Should it?”
She just kept licking syrup from the tines. Heaven help him. She dipped the fork in the syrup on her plate then lifted it to her mouth and slowly licked at it, front and back, repeating the process a few more times, making it really difficult to resist the urge to pull her across the table and shove his cock to the back of her throat. “You need to stop that.”
Wide eyes flew up to lock with his gaze and that damnedable blush was back. She took one more long, slow lick of the piece of silverware before putting it down. The tip of her tongue took a swipe of her lower lip before retreating back behind her teeth.
“Sorry.”
She didn’t look one bit contrite, so he wasn’t sure he believed her on that. “How many candles?” There, he was changing the subject to something very, very safe.
“It’s not polite to ask a woman her age.”
“I didn’t. I asked how many candles. You could say one, two, thirty.”
“Uh-huh.” She smirked and he winked. “Forty.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
“No.”
“You don’t look a day over thirty. Not that I’ve ever been good with guessing people’s ages, but you don’t look any older than me.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Well, I’m not too much older than you and Jackie is my age.”
“I know, but she doesn’t look it either, and if I had to guess her age, I wouldn’t think she’s forty.”
“Forty is the new thirty, you know.”
“Age really doesn’t mean a whole lot to me.”
“What does? And if age doesn’t mean anything to you, why’d you ask?”
“So, I’d know how many birthday swats you get. And at the moment? You. You naked means a whole hell of a lot to me.”
The last blush hadn’t completely faded before another took its place, and he couldn’t stop himself. He pushed his plate then hers out of the way and leaned across the table. His intent was to give her a small kiss, but the second his lips touched hers, his tongue was inside her mouth, tasting sweetness that had him on the brink of a whole lot of improper public displays of affection.
When he pulled back, her eyes were dilated and her pulse was visibly throbbing in her neck. Reluctantly he nudged her back down and he sat, both frustrated and pleased with himself at the reactions he could cause in her. “Can’t very well do that here in the pancake place though.”
“Then I guess we need to go.”
Her words caused his dick to jerk in his jeans and Jaz couldn’t blame it for wanting at her as soon as possible. He looked around the very busy and full-for-one-thirty-in-the-morning restaurant and lifted his hand when he spotted their waitress. She nodded and would eventually make her way over to them.
Mandi picked up her fork again and was drawing designs in the syrup with it. He could think of a lot of things he would like to do with the syrup and her body. He cleared his throat and took a sip of his water. For not even trying, the woman had him so horny, so damn ready to fuck on the table.
