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“This is amazing, Declan.” She looks up from her soup, her eyes sparkling. “You’re amazing.”
“I want you to have everything,” I tell her. The words take me almost by surprise, but I don’t let it show. I clear my throat, then add, “You deserve the world, and since I can afford it, I figured I might as well get it for you.”
It’s strange. I’ve never been more grateful for the money than I am in this moment. Usually, I don’t tend to think about it, and don’t have much that I want to use it for.
But with Sophie, everything’s different. With Sophie, I’m glad I have the wealth to throw around as needed. That way, I can afford to give her what she deserves: three in-flight orgasms and an expensive dress, to start.
We finish our bisque, and Sophie dips a piece of bread into her bowl to mop up the last bits of soup, moaning a little as she does so.
“Okay, I admit it,” she says. “The French do food better.”
“That was the appetizer.”
“You’re going to break my mind!” Melodramatically, she presses her hands to her forehead. “I feel like this entree is going to make me levitate.”
Our server brings us the next course—mussels in a delectable white-wine sauce—and I show her the best way to fish them out of the shells without splashing the sauce everywhere.
We dine on filet mignon and listen to the music, the flow of our conversation never slowing or ceasing. By the time we’re finished with the steaks, and I’m feeding Sophie my last bite of asparagus, the heat between us is intense.
She’s stunning in this dress. Every curve of her body screams sex, and the way she’s looking at me with those adoring eyes…
I don’t want to rush things tonight, so I’m more than happy to just let the tension simmer. But in the back of my mind, I’m thinking about taking her back to that hotel room and fucking her in every possible position.
Outside the curtain, the string quartet takes up a livelier tune. I hear the joyful laughs of a few patrons.
Sophie pulls the curtain open a few inches, peering out into the restaurant. “Oh, they’re dancing,” she says, sounding delighted.
I lean over to see what she’s seeing, and sure enough, a few well-dressed couples, their cheeks red from good wine, have taken to the empty stretch of floor between the tables and the musicians.
“That’s so cute,” Sophie says, grinning.
I offer my hand to her. “Do you want to dance?”
She beams, like she was waiting for me to ask. “Of course!”
I lead her out to the makeshift dance floor. As we emerge from our cordoned-off area, we draw more than a few curious—or envious—stares.
One of the men stares at Sophie, resplendent in her new gown. I feel a possessive surge in me, and glare daggers at him until he looks down at his tablecloth.
When we reach the musicians, I cradle Sophie in my arms. She fits against my body perfectly, her head resting on my shoulder as we sway from side to side.
After the song ends, we wander back to our table and slip back behind the curtain into privacy, although we don’t sit back down. Sophie steps closer, flashing me an adorable grin. “That was great. Where did you learn to dance like that?”
I smile at her. “Are you surprised?”
“Of course not.” She snorts. “You can cook, you can dance—I wouldn’t be surprised if you flew the damn plane on the way home, at this point.”
“Well, I have taken a few flight lessons—”
“Oh, come on!”
I laugh, pulling her into my arms and pressing kisses onto the exposed part of her shoulder. “Would you trust me to fly the plane?” I say, half-joking.
“I’d trust you to do anything.” Her voice, despite the levity of our conversation, is deadly serious.
I meet her gaze, then press my next kiss to her lips. I allow myself to become completely absorbed in her, and in this moment.
When we break apart, her face is flushed, but her eyes are practically glowing. My dick is half-hard just from having her in my arms, and from the tension that has burned between us all day.
