Now all I can do is wait. It’s six thirty and I’m about to give up and go home when my cell phone rings and I don’t recognize the number. I snatch it up.
“Hello? It’s Rose.”
A large grin spreads across my face.
“Hey sweetheart. I was wondering…do you fancy dinner?”
She laughs lightly, and I love the sound of it.
“Why not? I need time to get changed.”
“What’s your address?”
She gives me the name of an apartment block in a busy area of the city. Not what I expected, somehow.
“I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes,” I tell her, and put the phone down, grinning in triumph.
I reach her apartment and press the buzzer for the number she gave me. “I’ll be right down in a minute,” she says.
“Hurry up, I’m not supposed to be parked here.”
“Again?” Her laugh crackles over the intercom. “You really shouldn’t be driving. Are you sure you passed your test?”
“Cheeky,” I murmur as she cuts the line. I get a sudden vivid image of bending her over my knee and spanking her. Down boy, I tell myself as I wait for her by my car. I have every intention of being a perfect gentleman tonight.
The road to hell is paved with good intentions, of course.
Rose steps out of the apartment, and I can’t believe my eyes. I knew she was stunning, but wow.
Her hair is down and it falls in dark curls around her face. Her eyes are rimmed in black and some kind of smoky shadow, and they look sultry as hell, while those full lips are subtly outlined and glossed in pink, and look just perfect for closing around the end of my cock.
As for that dress. I raise my eyebrows and let out a low whistle. “You look gorgeous,” I tell her, and she does. She’s wearing a simple white dress that stops just above her knees, yet the way it fits perfectly to her curves and highlights her hips and breasts, its positively pornographic.
“Thank you,” she says, and I hold the car door open, having to make an effort to tear my eyes away from her.
“Where are we going?” she asks as we pull away into the busy traffic.
“There’s a new Turkish restaurant on the East side of Manhattan, I thought we could go there? I haven’t tried it yet.”
She looks impressed. It’s a five-star restaurant with a prominent celebrity chef.
“Hasn’t it got like a month long waiting list?” she asks incredulously.
“Not for me.”
A young Turkish waiter shows us to a discrete corner table once we reach our destination, and I glare at him as I catch him checking Rose’s legs out as he holds the chair for her to sit down.
“If you could get us the menu rather than checking out my date, that would be really helpful,” I say drily. He looks mortified as he nods and hurries off.
“Is that what I am?” Rose asks, her eyes suddenly unreadable. “Your date?”
“Do you want to be?” I challenge. For a moment she hesitates, and I see anxiety in her eyes and wonder what it’s about. A bad previous relationship perhaps? Any man that could let her go is a madman.
Then she reaches for my hand across the table, and I pick it up and lift it to my lips as she says, “Yes. Yes, I would like that very much.”
I can’t quite believe I’m here. A meal from this menu costs almost as much as a week’s rent, and the whole place is very upscale. I can spot a few celebrities and well-known socialites, and if I were here with anyone else, I would be itching to whip my iPad out and start taking notes, like a good reporter. But for once I’m not interested, the only thing holding my interest right now is Sebastian.
I loved the way he looked at me when I walked out onto the street. As though I was the only woman in the world. I wonder what it would be like to really be his. To go to bed with him every night and wake up with him every morning.
As his lips brush my fingers, I feel a thrill go right through me and as I watch his mouth touch my skin, I remember our kiss earlier. I feel my inner thighs tighten and a shudder of desire runs through my lower body. I want him so badly, but I’m suddenly nervous. Will he expect to go all the way tonight? Or some night soon? He is acting like a gentleman, sure, but there is no mistaking the look in his eyes or what he wants. There’s so much that I’m not telling him not only am I a reporter, but I’m also a virgin too. The kind of man I want was in short supply back home, and since moving to New York I’ve done nothing but work, work, work… but maybe it’s time for some play.