I’ll Meet You In London

“So, there’s this British guy that I adore.”

She let her hand play along his collar, tugging at the stiff material and grazing the skin of his neck with her nails. The noise of the pub buzzed around them as she teased him by pressing closer to his side in the booth.

His hands stayed above the table, one wrapped around a glass filled to the top with amber-colored liquid and the other lifting occasionally to acknowledge a passerby. A casual observer would believe he could care less about the woman leaning into him. He was cool, focused on the football game, appearing more concerned about the score and his beer. But she saw the white knuckle grip he had on his glass, heard the way his breath hissed through his teeth at each touch, felt the frantic beat of his heart beneath her lips.

“He makes me laugh with his humor and amazes me with his rapier wit.”

Her tongue darted out to taste the skin behind his ear, causing him to jump a little. She tapped his knee playfully, squeezing once before settling her hand on his leg. He felt hot under her palm and she wanted to feel him free of clothes against her.

“He sends me the naughtiest pictures of himself that make me unbelievably wet.”

She watched his jaw work as her hand crept up his thigh. The flex of his muscles beneath the fabric of his slacks drove her upwards to her goal. When she reached the bulge nestled against his zipper, they both sighed.

“Would you like to feel how wet I am just thinking about it?”

“Cara.” He murmured her name. Part warning, part plea, it went straight to her cunt.

She squirmed against him, pressing her breasts to his side. “Such the proper Englishman. I bet you’d be wild once you got me home. I think of the dirty things you’d say to me. Telling me to take your cock like a good girl, or to scream louder as you fuck me from behind.”

He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. His eyes blazed when he turned to meet her gaze. “For heaven’s sake, you’re killing me.”

“Well, I’m certainly missing my mark if I’m killing you.” She brought her face close enough to graze his lips with her own. “I’ll have try a different approach. Maybe if I use my mouth for something other than talking…”

His breath blew out, fanning over her face. “Fuck me,” he finished in a whisper.

“Whenever you’re ready, love. Whenever you’re ready.”