The next day, they met again at the café--earlier than usual. Almost as if neither of them could stay away.
Sophie had dressed differently. Not much, but enough. A tight-fitting black top that clung to the soft curve of her waist, jeans that hugged her hips, and a hint of lace peeking from beneath her neckline when she leaned forward just right. Iain noticed. His eyes dipped once--twice--and she caught him both times, her smirk growing each time.
"You're early," she said, sliding into the seat opposite him.
"So are you."
She sipped her latte. "Maybe I couldn't sleep."
"Same."
Their eyes locked again, the weight of the previous day still hanging thick in the air between them. They hadn't touched. Not even a brush of fingers. And yet, it felt like they were already naked to each other.
Sophie broke the silence. "I couldn't stop thinking about your voice. The way it dropped when you said what you'd do to me."
Iain shifted in his seat. His cock stirred to life again, pressing uncomfortably against the denim. "I meant every word."
"I figured," she said. "I also figured you've got a filthy mind for a married man."
He smiled. "And you've got a dangerous mouth for a single one."
Sophie leaned forward, whispering, "Wanna know what I imagined last night?"
His throat bobbed with a swallow. "Yes."
"I imagined your hands pinning me down... your mouth between my legs... and then flipping me over, taking me from behind while I screamed your name into the pillow."
Iain groaned under his breath. "Fuck, Sophie."
"I soaked the sheets," she said casually, as if talking about the weather.
He looked around, as if suddenly aware of the world again. People chatted over coffee, oblivious. But his skin was on fire.
"Come for a drive," he blurted, unable to contain himself. "Just you and me."
Sophie blinked, surprised--but her grin turned wicked. "Where to?"
"Somewhere private."
They left their coffees unfinished.
*********************************************
The engine rumbled beneath them as Iain pulled onto the quiet road. His knuckles were tight on the steering wheel, trying to focus, trying not to show just how close he was to breaking.
Sophie, however, was in no rush.
She curled one leg up onto the seat, turning slightly toward him. "You know," she said, her voice silky and low, "I've had some very dirty thoughts about you, Iain."
His eyes flicked toward her. "Oh yeah?"
She nodded. "Wanna know the worst one?"
"Yes. Absolutely yes."
She grinned. "It's the one where you bend me over the counter in that café. Just after closing. I'm still in my coat, panties pulled to the side... you're still wearing your wedding ring."
Iain exhaled sharply, cock twitching at the image.
"Jesus, Sophie..."
She let the silence hang, then added softly, "What about you? Any filthy fantasies about your coffee buddy?"
His laugh was dark. "Too many."
"Pick your dirtiest."
He glanced at her again, then back to the road. "Alright. You, tied up. Arms above your head, blindfolded. Nothing but heels on. I'd take my time, make you beg."
Sophie shifted in her seat, squeezing her thighs together. "God, you're worse than I thought."
He smirked. "That's not even top five."
She slid her hand to his thigh again. "I want to hear them all."
"You'll get your chance."
Her fingers drifted higher, brushing the denim-covered bulge. "I hope they involve my mouth," she whispered.
He growled low in his throat. "Sophie..."
She pulled her hand away like a tease and smiled sweetly. "Eyes on the road, Mr. Married Man."
He turned down a narrow lane and pulled into his driveway a few minutes later. The house was quiet. Empty. He killed the engine and looked at her, chest rising and falling.
"This is your last chance to change your mind," he said, voice low but serious.
Sophie unbuckled her seatbelt slowly. "I changed it the second I came thinking of you."
They got out of the car, the silence between them charged.
Inside the house, the door closed with a soft click.
The real game was about to begin.
*********************************************
Their mouths met like fire and fuel. It wasn't just lust--it was need, years of buried hunger finally unleashed.
Sophie moaned into his kiss as Iain led her toward the bedroom, his hands greedily roaming the curves he'd fantasised about for so long. She broke away from his lips and slid the straps of her lace top down her arms. Her breasts spilled out, pert and perfect, nipples already hard with anticipation.
"Jesus Christ..." he muttered, mesmerised.
She didn't stop there.
Her hips rolled as she slowly pushed her thong down, revealing smooth skin, a glistening slit, and a confident smirk that told him she knew exactly what she was doing to him.
"Iain," she whispered, "I've imagined your tongue on me more times than I can count."
That was all the invitation he needed.
He dropped to his knees, pulling her leg over his shoulder as he pressed his mouth against her pussy. Sophie cried out, hands in his hair, grinding her hips into his face as his tongue dove deep. He explored her folds with slow, deliberate strokes, pausing to flick and circle her clit before licking her again from base to tip.
He moaned into her, the vibration making her tremble.
"Don't stop... fuck, don't stop..."
