Lunch Date 6

She'd never done anything like this before. The fact that she was sitting here now, with this man, in this place, was completely out of character for her. She knew it was taboo. Maybe that's why it held so much appeal.

The plate in front of her was nearly untouched. She'd been pushing the food around her plate while her belly fluttered and flipped. Through lowered lashes, she peeked across the table at him. He looked completely at ease. Damn the man. Since she loved looking at him, she continued her covert study. One arm was tossed casually across the back of the booth. The other hand was toying idly with his drink, spinning the glass in wet little circles. He was wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, but lord did he wear them well. His hair was spiked up into a mohawk again today. She never imagined that she'd be drooling over a man with a mohawk. But here she was, in the middle of TGI Friday's, hot and bothered by her very own rock star.

He must have caught her watching, because a slow smile spread across his kissable lips. "'Cuse me," he murmured and slid out of the booth with a wink. She watched him watch to the back of the restaurant. She welcomed the reprieve, and took the opportunity to talk several gulping breaths. She wiped clammy hands on her skirt and tried to talk herself down from near hyperventilation. It was just lunch. Just a meal. In public. With a man who wasn't her husband. With a man that made her quiver just by being near.

She didn't notice his return. He startled her by slipping onto the bench next to her. "Scoot over." He whispered it., his lips next to her ear. She shivered and scooted. He pressed close to her, despite the room she'd just made for him. He turned just a bit, so he could watch her. His dreamy blue eyes locked on hers. She swallowed, determined to play it cool, and forced a smile. Under the table, his hand found her thigh. Her breath caught, but she maintained her smile. His fingers stroked down, to the hem of her skirt. She continued to smile. A little current scrambled over her skin as his palm met naked flesh. He stroked down to her knee, warm steady fingers wreaking havoc on her system. When his touch started back up her thigh, she felt her smile falter. Oh, god, this felt good. His fingers were under her skirt now, working up her leg in maddening, teasing circles.

He leaned in close, his lips against her ear again. "Spread your legs for me." She shivered, a full body response to his demand. She opened her thighs. His roaming fingers climbed higher. It was becoming incredibly hard not to squirm. He ran his fingers over her panties. A deliberate, calculated touch designed to make her whimper. She bit her lip and moaned just a teeny bit.

"Jeff.... We're in the middle of a restaurant," she whispered. He smiled, nodded, continued to tease her under the table. His fingers continued to stroke her through her panties. The fabric was wet, there was no way she could tell him she didn't like it.

His finger found the edge of her panties. He lowered his mouth to her shoulder, bit her just as his finger pressed inside her. She gasped, she couldn't help it. It was all she could do to stay seated. She felt him smile against her skin and he bit her again. It was just the barest scrape of teeth, followed by a sweet, soothing kiss. But, lord, what it did to her. She lifted her hips into his touch – just a little. It was his turn to swallow a moan. His finger plunged deeper, moved in and out faster. She clenched the seat. If he kept this up, she'd be cumming on the pleather seats of one of America's favorite chains.

The waiter appeared tableside to inquire as to whether they were enjoying their meal. Jeff answered; they were great. His finger never missed a beat. The waiter flashed a fake grin and buzzed off to check on his other tables.

He withdrew his finger, tormenting her by running it over her skin but not touching any of the places she needed him to touch. She wiggled a little, trying to arch into his touch. She met his eyes; let him see the hunger he'd built. He moved his hand completely. "I need to kiss you, taste you." His words were low, rough. The arousal in his voice ratcheted hers up another level. She nodded. His fingers laced through hers. He gave them a brief squeeze before tugging her out of the booth. He guided her around the maze of tables to the back of the restaurant. He pushed open the door to the men's room, tossing her a wicked smile over his shoulder.

She balked. She couldn't go in there with him! If she followed him in, she knew exactly what would happen. And then this lunch, in a public place, with a man who isn't her husband, would turn into something else entirely. He stood, waiting for her decision. His hand was warm and steady on hers, his bedroom blue eyes patient. This is what she wanted. If she was honest with herself, she came today knowing that it wouldn't be an innocent lunch. She squared her shoulders, flashed him a smile, and let him pull her the rest of the way in.

He flipped the lock on the door behind her. Without releasing her hand, he backed her to the door, pressing up against her. His free hand went to her face, traced her cheek. His fingers moved to her hair, pushing through the curls. Burying his face at her neck, he murmured, "I really do like your hair this way." He pressed a kiss to her throat. Then her ear, her temple, her cheek. "I've wanted to do this for so long." Then his lips were on hers. He made a sound of pure pleasure. It was carnal and raw and it went straight to her core. She melted against him. His mouth was unbelievable, so soft and hot and wicked. Needing so much more, she tugged her hand from his to slide it under his shirt. She ran her hands over his bare back, then down to dip into the waistband of his jeans.

Again, he moaned. He took the kiss deeper. His hands moved to grip her hips and he yanked her to him aligned her center to his. And he was hard. His erection strained against his jeans, she could feel the heat of it through her skirt.

He broke the kiss, dropping his forehead to hers while he sucked in breath. "You're killing me here." He kissed a path back down her face; forehead, temple, cheeks, lips... He lingered on her mouth just a moment longer before continuing. Jaw, throat, shoulder. Again, he lingered, nibbling on the curve of her shoulder. Then, much to her horror and delight, he kept going. He kissed her collar bones. And then her chest. He rucked up her shirt to plant open mouthed kisses on her breasts. He looked up at her, watching her response as he scraped his teeth over her nipple through her bra. She gasped. He grinned before closing his mouth over her and sucking. She nearly came undone. And then his journey continued. He was on his knees now, pressing kisses over her belly, her hips.

He pushed her skirt up, slipping her panties down. He kissed up her thigh, driving her mad by drawing a line across her skin with just the tip of his tongue. This time she spread her legs without his order. She looked down at him, her rock star with spiked radical hair and soft bedroom eyes. He was looking at her with something near reverence. Then he leaned in and kissed her. He kissed here there. He was merciless. There were no more tender, persuasive, slow kisses. His tongue stroked over her, pushed inside her. She nearly climbed the wall. He lifted one of her legs, hooking it over his shoulder, so he could gain better access. Two fingers pushed into her while his lips and tongue focused on her clit.

Her breath left her. Her heart was going to either stop all together or explode. And it was utter bliss. He took her to the peak fast and hard, not giving her any chance of drawing it out. The hot, sharp coil of release twisted in her gut. She whimpered his name, pleaded. He sucked on her, plunged his fingers deeper. And she shattered. Arching hard off the door, into his mouth, she shuddered and quaked and trembled until she thought the orgasm was going to kill her.

Pressing one last kiss to her core, he looked up at her. Those blue eyes watched her as he pulled her panties back up. He stood, pulling her into him, stroking a hand over her hair. When she stopped trembling he placed a finger under her chin, lifting her mouth to his. The kiss was gentle and sweet and a little erotic with the flavor of her still on his lips. Gathering her close again, he nuzzled his way back into the hair at her neck. "You up for dessert," he asked.