The Italian restaurant closed late on Saturday night, and I was the last to leave. After bidding farewell to my friends, I stepped into the humid stickiness of summer and fanned myself. My sheer light dress stuck to my skin and I waved it to get air on my bareness underneath. Outside, I realized I had left my credit card at the table. I stepped back in to retrieve it.
The young table-busser strode my way. “This must be yours,” he said.
He had amused me all evening with flirting and smiles. I appreciated the attention. He was young and hard-bodied. I had overheard the owner say family members from Italy were working here, and I was sure the table-busser was one. When I looked up, his heated gaze made me hot.
Reaching for the card, he caressed my hand. “Meet me at the corner by the outdoor patio.” He winked at me. “Go on; I’ll see you there.”
With a smile, the tall, lumbering body hovered over me and awakened every sex sense, I swooned. Italian men.
He walked toward the kitchen, and the back view made my female parts clench up. I hustled out the front door and turned left onto the patio. All the lights had been shut off, so I moved against the building wall. A hand reached out and grabbed mine.
“I’ve wanted to touch you all night.” He pulled me close to him. I smelled olive oil and oregano.
“How old are you?”
“Old enough to know what I am doing?”
“And what is that exactly?”
“Putting a smile on your face.” He dropped to his knees and skimmed his palms up and down the back of my legs. His face nestled into the apex of my legs. I shuddered as his hands moved higher and cupped my bare ass. His hot breath seeped through the material onto my vulva. Oh, my word. I gasped.
“Let me pleasure you.”
He inched my dress up and nudged his nose close to my sex then he inhaled deeply.
“Sei Bellissima.” He pushed my legs apart, and his big thumbs separated my slippery lips. His hot tongue moved into my intimate space, and I saw stars. His tongue lapped at my skin. I moaned, and he secured all his fingers around my bottom to hold me still. His lips formed a tight suction on me that only highlighted his tongue work and drove me crazy with licking, sucking, and nipping. My knees trembled which opened me up more to him. His scratchy face teased my thighs and my sex. Arousal and olive oil permeated the sultry air. As the orgasm took me, my shoulders slammed into the brick wall, and my body quaked. He smoothed the cotton fabric as my body stilled and rested his hands on my thighs. When I opened my eyes, the moon had risen.
“Are you smiling?”
I threaded my fingers through his hair.
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