Teaching Willow: Session Two (2 page)

THREE- EBON

I’ve always been passionate about the written word and about writing in particular. It’s like painting, only I do it with words rather than a brush, each sentence a stroke, each chapter a part of the landscape. But not in all the time I’ve been writing have I been more thoroughly immersed in my work than I am now. It’s like a switch has been tripped in my brain, in my soul even, and I feel…voracious. Much like my appetite for Willow has become. Or is it Sage now?

The lines, the differences, the similarities are blurred now. It’s as though Sage is swallowing up Willow little by little, casting her own kind of spell on me. I’m finding this side of her increasingly fascinating. And having Willow’s words between us, combined with this…new Sage is like having the best of both of them.

Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Anything to divert my attention from Willow.

My fingers fly across the keyboard furiously. All the desire I’ve kept pent up, all the things I’ve wanted to say to Willow, all the ways I’ve wanted to bend and break her sweet, forbidden body—they’re flowing out of me and onto the bright white computer screen. And pushing against the bottom of the desk is the most exquisitely painful hard-on I think I’ve ever had.

I’m completely absorbed in the story when my phone rings. My mind registers an internal alarm when I see the time. 7:21.

Shit!

And it’s Sage calling.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but my car won’t start. Do you think you could come and get me?”

My first thought is that she really liked the idea of me doing something dirty to her in public and that this is her way of goading me. But then I discard the notion. I get the feeling that she’s content to let me lead, especially since she wouldn’t even tell me how she felt; she let her sister do it through fiction.

“Of course. I’m running a few minutes late. I’ll be there by eight or five after.”

“Take your time.”

I pause. “Does that mean you’re not anxious to see me?”

“No.”

“Good. Because you should be. You should be
very
anxious.”

The silence is so profound that I think Sage must not be breathing. I smile. I love this game. I love winding her up so tight she feels like she might come apart. Because I’ll be the one kneeling between her legs when she does.

“See you soon,” I say and then I hang up.

I’m still smiling as I shampoo my hair, Sage’s perfect body and sexy voice still occupying my mind. It’s all I can do when I soap off my cock not to stroke it until I cover my shower wall with come. But I’d much rather wait. It’ll be hell, but it’ll be worth it.

At three minutes after eight, I’m parking in the lot outside Sage’s. Before I can get out, she’s coming down the steps toward me. I grit my teeth and remind myself of the plan as my eyes rake her from head to toe. She’s wearing a pair of tiny white shorts and a black-and-white striped shirt that ties around her neck and cups her tits to perfection. Her long, slim limbs are smooth, porcelain cream and her hair is like an ink spill, dripping down her back.

I go around to open the door for her, my palms itching to touch her, to press her up against the door and finger fuck her until she comes in the twilight. When she pauses in front of me, ready to duck inside the car, I stop her, pulling her to me tight enough to feel her lush breasts smash against my chest. I dip my head and take her lips in a kiss that’s meant for the bedroom, the kind that usually ends in a heap of sweaty skin and hot breath.

Something about it feels like the first time, the first kiss between us. Even though it’s not, even though I just kissed her Monday night, it feels new. And fresh. And hot enough to burn me.

Her tongue tastes sweeter than I remember, her lips more eager. She melts into me like she can’t wait to get closer, close enough to feel my skin against hers from chest to thigh and everywhere in between. It’s the fieriest kiss we’ve shared. I can’t believe I nearly walked away and missed this heat, this incredible connection.

“Are you hungry?” I ask her quietly when I lean back and gaze down into her sea-blue eyes.

“I’m starving,” she replies, her breath tickling my cheek as she huffs shallowly.

I can’t resist sliding my hand down over the curve of her ass. It’s the perfect amount of round and tight.

“Good because I decided to take you out.”

Her eyes widen in something that looks like alarm, but surely I’m mistaken. That or maybe she is actually afraid that I’ll do something to her in public. Either way, I find her reaction a bit odd.

“Where did you have in mind? I mean, I thought…”

“The Shallows. We’re already halfway there. Have you been there before?”

“N-not that I recall.”

“You’ll love it,” I assure her with a smile. “I promise.” Reluctantly, I release her ass and open the door farther so she can get in. After I’m behind the wheel and backing out, I glance at her car. “Oh, did you want me to check your car? Or call someone to tow it to the shop for you?”

Sage glances over at me, something gentle and surprised in her eyes. “No,” she says softly, her lips curving into a stunning yet shy smile, like something I might see on the face of her twin. “But thank you for offering. I’ll get it taken care of tomorrow. Tonight…tonight is for other things.”

I squeeze my fingers around the steering wheel to keep from reaching for her. Neither of us says another word all the way to the restaurant.

When we arrive, the valet takes my car and I lead Sage inside. I ask to be seated in the “shelf” as it’s called here. The main seating area is called the “lagoon.” It’s level with a wall of retractable doors that overlook a finger of the lake. The shelf is an elevated ring of booths that are curved and recessed, each one like a private viewing room of the sunset. Although we’ve missed that spectacle, it wasn’t really what I had in mind when I brought her here anyway. I want the darkness, broken only by the twinkle of the stars on the water. That and the white tablecloths that reach the floor in front of our nearly-private booth. Nearly private…only in public.

Baby steps.

I don’t want to scare her off with too much too soon. I don’t know quite what to expect from
this
Sage, so it’s okay with me if I have to ease her into it.

As we are following the hostess to our table, I hear a man’s voice. “Sage?”

I feel Sage stiffen under my palm where it rests against her lower back. She turns toward the voice.

A twenty-something guy with curly brown hair and a surfer tan is making his way toward us. His smile says he knows Sage well.

“What’s up, girl? I thought you were dead. Why no parties?”

He looks vaguely familiar, probably from one of the parties to which he’s referring, but I can’t remember a name. Nor do I want to. I want him to shut the hell up so we can get on with our night in peace.

Sage smiles politely. I wonder if she’s feeling as aggravated by the intrusion as I am. “I’ve just been busy. New job.”

“Seriously? Where at? Maybe we need to celebrate.” His grin suggests that this douche is interested in anyone who provides him with free beer.

“Maybe. I’ll let you know. If you’ll excuse us, we were on our way to a table.”

I guess that answers my question. I bet that’s why she stiffened up. She didn’t want to be intruded upon any more than I did.

“Oh right, right. Well, give me a call. You know if there’s a party and a keg, I’m all over it.” He holds out his fist for a bump which she grudgingly taps.

He glances at me as he walks off, nodding politely. When I look back to Sage, she looks more than a little uncomfortable. Her smile is nervous and apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You won’t be thinking about him for much longer.”

Sage draws the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth and turns back to face the hostess, who is waiting patiently for the opportunity to seat us. She takes us to our table, which is a semi-circular booth. Sage slides in first and I follow.

“Your waitress is Wendy and she’ll be right with you,” the hostess tells us, her expression pleasant as she hands us each a menu and then turns to leave. “Enjoy your meal.”

“Oh, we will,” I say, glancing at Sage whose cheeks are flushed prettily.

We read the menu in silence, huddling in our dark corner, until Wendy arrives to take our order. Sage gets shrimp and I get crab. I add a bottle of white wine to the meal, the perfect complement to seafood. And to Sage. Neither of us says anything until Wendy comes back with our water and our wine, which she uncorks and pours into a glass for each of us.

Sage is quiet as we sip our Chardonnay and enjoy the lights and stars flickering off the water outside. Shortly before our meal arrives, a guy with long, brown dreads and a knit hat takes up a guitar and sits on a chair in the corner. When he begins to play, a sexy blend of jazz and reggae, the rest of the patrons turn their attention to him, leaving Sage and me completely ignored in our bubble of dimly-lit privacy.

I lean back in the booth, holding my wine glass in one hand and draping my other arm across the back of the seat behind Sage’s shoulders. I can smell her hair and almost feel the tremor of her limbs. I know she’s waiting for me to do something, to say something.

So am I.

“How’s your wine?” I lean in to speak near her ear. I hear her catch her breath.

“It’s delicious,” she says softly, turning to glance shyly up at me. It’s such a Willow thing to do, my cock fills with blood and I grit my teeth against where that thought wants to go.

“Did I tell you that you look especially beautiful tonight?”

“No,” she whispers, still not breathing very deeply.

“Well you do. You look amazing with all that skin showing. Smooth, silky skin. And long legs. Legs that were made for two things. Short, short skirts and…” I trail off purposely, waiting for Sage to turn and meet my eyes.

“And?” she prompts when she turns to face me.

“And winding around my waist.” I set my wine glass on the table and drop my hand onto Sage’s thigh. I feel her muscle tense beneath the warm expanse of skin. Her eyes are still on mine, the pupils so large I wouldn’t be able to tell the color of her irises if I didn’t already know. “I wish you’d worn a skirt tonight. But I’m not sure I could stand the temptation,” I admit, letting my fingertips glide along the hem of her short shorts. I can feel the heat coming off her when I dip my hand down between her thighs.

“But we’re in public,” she points out in a winded voice.

“Are you saying that you would object if I touched you in public?” I ask, rubbing my fingers over the seam of her shorts where it meets between her thighs. She spreads her legs the tiniest bit, silent consent to continue.

“N-no.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you
didn’t
wear a skirt, isn’t it?” I watch Sage close her eyes, her lips parted as she breathes quickly. When she doesn’t respond, I smile, posing my question again. “Isn’t it?”

She nods, her eyes still closed. I watch her shaking hand bring her wine to her mouth. I’m mesmerized by the way her lush lips part and slip over the rim of the glass, by the way her throat works as she swallows, and by the way she licks her lips when she’s done.

“Mmmm, that’s one lucky wine glass. I can remember exactly what those lips feel like, what that tongue feels like.” I feel Sage further widen her legs for my hand. I bet she would kill to be able to move her hips against my fingers. But she can’t. We’re in public. And she’s at my mercy.

“Sage?” Rhythmically, I press the hell of my hand into the increasingly damp spot between her legs. I don’t continue until she opens her eyes and looks at me. “I’m going to make you come, right here in this restaurant. Is that okay with you?”

Her eyes widen imperceptibly. “No, Ebon. Don’t. We can’t…”

“
We
can’t, but
you
can,” I assure her, introducing the tips of my fingers into the mix, stroking her more insistently.

Wendy arrives with our food just as Sage’s body begins to tense. I turn my satisfied smile on Wendy. Her timing is impeccable. I want to make Sage squirm and this interruption is perfect.

Wendy sets a platter of shrimp in front of Sage and then presents me with my crab legs, drawn butter and lemon on the side just like I’d requested.

“Can I get you two anything else?” she asks politely, her eyes lingering on mine a touch longer than what they should.

I glance at Sage. She looks addled. I hold back my grin. Finally she shakes her head. “No, I think we’ve got all that we need. Thank you.”

Wendy nods and leaves us to eat. From the corner of my eye, I see Sage watching me rather than paying her food any attention. I know she’s wondering if I’m going to eat rather than finishing what I started.

As I crack a crab leg, I see Sage finally pick up her fork and slowly stab a shrimp and bring it to her mouth. As she begins to chew, I see her cross her legs, her thighs pressing together as she squeezes. My cock stiffens in response. I hope every one of her senses is on fire.

“Do you like crab?” I ask Sage, drawing her eye. She nods. “Then you’ll love this,” I tell her, dunking a long piece of crab into the lemon butter and carrying it to her mouth. She parts her lips and sticks out her tongue just enough that I can lay the piece of meat on it. I don’t move my fingers right away. Instinctively, she closes her mouth over them. “Suck,” I tell her softly. And she does, lapping the buttery juices off my fingertips before I remove them. I notice a wet drop at the edge of her bottom lip. I lean over, my body shielding her from the world at my back, and I use the tip of my tongue to clean up the sweet dribble.