The meal was unbelievable - juicy, creamy and succulently tender. And yes I am talking about the chicken I had. We spent the whole time smiling stupidly at each other and laughing at the thought of everyone else stuck outside in the cold watching Jamie try and get the fireworks to actually work. Of course all the while my right foot was slowly tracing a line up the inside of The Bloke’s ankle, where he is ever so slightly ticklish, and my tongue was licking my lips a little too often for me to believe I still had cream sauce lingering there.
Usually we would go straight home, and I have to admit I wanted to get The Bloke back to his (It was cold dontcha know). But instead we did decide to savour the silly romanticism of the fireworks. We crossed the river and walked along Southbank, watching the fireworks light up the sky – hand in hand, wrapped up against the cold, trying not to trip up. A little way along The Bloke Indoors pushes me up against the stone barrier along the riverbank, his hands on my hips, his smile leaning down towards my lips for a kiss even before I feel solidness behind me.
Up against the stone, The Bloke stands between my legs, pushes me even closer and kisses me deeply. My tongue tests his mouth as my hands grasp his hair. I can feel him through our clothes now, a quick look up and down shows only two people and they’re pretty much engaged in the same kind of activity we are and a good distance away. To hell with it: I undo The Bloke’s jacket so that it hangs around us both and my hands slide down his chest towards his jeans.
As my hand slides quickly inside his jeans The Bloke moves to my neck, biting me firmly and breathing deeply all over that spot all at the same time. Very slowly, I take him in my hand, fingertips slowly caressing the length of him, joined by a thumb, another finger, slowly enveloping him in my hand as my teeth seek out his ear and I push chest against him – letting him feel my erect nipples from the freezing cold air. The Blokes right hand leaves my hip and slides down my leg, pulling it up around him, tracing the line of my stocking and caressing the bare skin before tip-toeing it’s wait further upwards…
A look passes between us as I almost (very almost) pull him completely into the open and lift myself onto his hips.
Time to get home.
Another cab and another back seat. As soon as we were inside The Bloke Indoors took off his jacket and draped it around us, mostly so I didn’t get cold (the sweety) and for less chivalrous reasons of course. He gave me one of his looks. Its almost impossible to describe the looks he gives me, all shadowy eyes and sly smiles. To comply with his eyes’ command I wiggled close to him under his jacket and parted my legs while leaning *ahem* sleepily, against his shoulder. Our hands crossed underneath the jacket, mine teased through The Bloke’s jeans, while his – well his – were pleasantly occupied.
I’m sure the cabbie knew; we were home in half the time we should have been despite the time of night and he did offer me a wink as I tripped my purple shoes out of the doors.
There is more to come…quite literally.
(This is one of three that deleted although not all three related to the rest of this evening…this was a long, and very, VERY, enjoyable night)