He hated dealing with sales people. It always seemed such an act. ‘Sure, let’s go to lunch.’ Like they really wanted to have lunch with him – or he with them. At least he could count on a free meal. Barring the sales pitch he'd have to endure on this lunch appointment, the choice of restaurant was a one of the better ones. Manny’s had to be one of the best steakhouses on the planet as far as Grayson was concerned. We’re talking primo beef, like a Smith & Wollensky’s, or maybe a Ruth’s Chris. Plus, the Skywalk would shield them from the frigid January wind swirling around the corners of downtown Minneapolis. Even the three-block walk from his office on 7th Street to the Marriott would be pain free. Now if only he didn’t have to eyeball Martin Talbot and his persistent salesman's arrogance over a poorly disguised working lunch. The alert on his Palm beeped at him with an irritating reminder that he had fifteen minutes to prepare for lunch with the obese Mr. Talbot. 

Talbot asked Grayson to meet him in the lobby of the Marriott; a short walk across the Skywalk bridge and up the elevator to the fifth floor lobby. He could hardly wait. The only visible difference between Talbot and Fat Bastard was the absence of an Irish accent. He knew that if the big guy ever had to haul ass to get someplace in a hurry, it'd take a minimum of two trips. It would also be a safe bet that nothing short of a c-note would be required to feed Talbot at Manny's. As the elevator doors opened, he forced on a happy face and strode down the richly paneled corridor leading into the lobby.

Amidst palm fronds and potted fichus greenery, he scanned the seating area for what would be a very hungry Martin Talbot; after all, it was nearly 12:30PM and well passed his feeding time. Grayson’s sweep of the room came up empty. Several business types stood around with their own private agendas, each looking freshly stamped out of the professional cookie-cutter mold; suits, ties, freshly shined shoes and armed to the teeth with semi-automatic Intel-equipped laptops. Mixed in with the corporate dicks were a couple of well-heeled businesswomen, equally outfitted with computing firepower. He smiled to himself, knowing of the two genders which one held the greatest potential to be much more dangerous. Grayson snorted at that conclusion and thought to himself, ‘Jesus, why couldn’t Talbot have been a good looking… ‘

“Mr. Sellars?”

He turned toward the sound of a decidedly female voice and discovered a decidedly female business commando sporting a decidedly all-business smile. He fought the urge to rudely dress her down with his eyes despite knowing the return on inspection would've been most satisfying. Instead, he returned her smile with one of his own, looking beyond the endless, dark-brown eyes and into the woman behind the mask. They both felt the depth of his gaze, and her pupils dilated instantaneously in an attempt to swallow his lusty look whole.  

“Yes Ma’am?” he replied, not breaking eye contact or the smile. He truthfully couldn’t have broken off eye contact if he tried, and the smile may as well have been permanently plastered across his lips.  

She held out a hand and said, “I’m Melanie Hardwick. I work with Martin Talbot."

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, laughing, and then adding, “...how very unfortunate for you.”

She paused for a half-beat and gave him one of those barely perceptible eye flutters that carried one of several potential translations. He hoped the message signaled discrete agreement that confirmed her unfortunate association with the likes of one Martin Talbot. Her grip proved strong enough and the handshake lasted long enough to clarify her position as a very controlled woman. As such, he did not expect her to bypass discretion and admit anything that would even come close to disparaging a peer despite him being a pig of enormous proportions. 

“Yes, well…Martin has been detained and asked me to sit in for him at lunch and to work out any final changes to the contract terms. I hope you’re okay with my last minute substitution for him.”

He realized suddenly that he still held her hand in his, and her grip showed no signs of relaxing until control had been established. She held him equally captive with the spell cast by her perfect mouth. There had to be two or three shades of blush on his face prompted by a sudden powerful image of kissing those delicious lips right then and there. He stood frozen in that momentary fantasy as a vivid imagination encouraged him closer to the edge of actually reaching for her – his fingers tracing lightly along her neck, slipping beneath her ears and curling into a tight grip in her thick auburn hair. Despite his paralysis, he imagined sensing her presence closing in on him as his mouth moved closer to hers, hovering close enough to feel the heat from parted lips.

His fantasy released him back into the moment when her grip flexed and then relaxed, their hands breaking contact. Not until that moment did he realize he’d been holding his breath. He breathed deeply to recover and enjoyed the blend of what her body added to her cologne and knew for a fact the rest of her had to be equally as delicious. Thoughts of kissing her hard returned unexpectedly, threatening to shed all sense of decorum and accelerated rapidly into the danger zone, causing an imperceptible lean toward her. He bounced hard on sensibility and struggled to regain his business persona. 

Undaunted by the potential of an incriminating crimson aura splashed on his face, he replied, “Not at all, Melanie. In fact, given a choice…”  

He thought better about what he nearly let slip and left his comment dangling until he capped it with a warm smile. Enough had been said for her to figure out the rest. A little warmth leaked back toward him through her business-issue smile, an encouraging sign given the multiple outcomes now playing through his mind…and his loins.

A different kind of heat spilled out of her when her lips parted slightly in an all-too-wicked grin, and he saw her tongue slide slowly across the backside of her upper teeth. Her head tilted imperceptibly, as her eyes gave up an apprising look drifting to linger on his mouth. Non-verbals rocketed boldly between them, each launched with the slightest movement of glances, lips and twitch of brow. Grayson considered the preferred outcome of their meeting where neither of them would have any clothing on for much more than an hour – lunch not-with-standing.

Grayson made the decision to move in an attempt to prevent an embarrassing scene in the lobby of the hotel. He motioned toward the short hallway that would take them to the elevators. “Shall we go?”

Exquisitely manicured nails flashed, as she repositioned the strap on her soft leather handbag. A follow-up toss of her near shoulder-length hair and they were on their way. The resonant click of her heels on the polished hardwood punctuated a long stride. ‘Even a blind man could describe the legs on this beauty,’ he mused thoughtfully, admiring every sensual aspect she offered. She had to be every bit of 5’10” and at least 75 percent legs. What a waste to be walking beside her when the ultimate perspective would have been to follow admiringly four or five paces in her wake.

“So,” she said with an increasingly suggestive look, “are you carnivorous?”

“Absolutely! No one goes to Manny’s without being a card-carrying carnivore. And yourself?” 

“Oh yes! I’m one too. I prefer the tender more flavorful cuts,” she replied, cocking her head and cutting him a sideways glance. This time it struck so deeply that his penis twitched along his thigh.

‘Tender and flavorful…yeah, I got your filet-o-cock right here, darlin,’ he agreed privately, once more narrowing down best possible outcome scenarios. A sudden thought crossed his mind that crafty old Martin Talbot may have brought Melanie in as the closer. Maybe the sly old dog figured that sweet Ms. Melanie could close the deal by blowing away the competition – in a literal sense. Grayson smiled to himself and immediately came to the conclusion that that would be a most appropriate tactic to earn his business. Who knows, maybe she was a prepaid hooker disguised as a biz-pro and accompanied him for the sole purpose of getting ink on the contract and a mouthful of come…and not necessarily in that order. 

They strolled leisurely through the maze of stores and elevated walkways, conversation back on business, contracts, terms, and conditions. To his pleasure, he discovered that she displayed a tendency to be generous with her touch. No less than six times over the distance of three city blocks did she put her hand on his arm to make a point, or to embellish reaction to something he'd said. He liked that. Touching suited him. It may have been his imagination, or maybe just wishful thinking, but her contact seemed to linger on his arm a little longer each time she reached for him.

Despite his wandering thoughts, she remained on task. “Do you feel that the addendum approach will satisfy your attorney, or should we venture down the road of rewriting the standard terms?”

“I’ll tell you the truth,” he said, shaking his head. “If we get the legal eagles involved in this process, we’ve added a minimum of six weeks before we can begin this project. I’d be perfectly happy if we could put this to bed this afternoon.”

No sooner than the words crossed his lips, a momentary flush of embarrassment reached up to choke him. It wasn’t full-blown panic, but damn close. For a couple of heartbeats he didn’t know if he should move to cover his choice of words or to just let it ride and gauge her reaction. He felt she sensed his confounded state and began searching for the proper words to cover his faux pas when she interrupted his thoughts…and his ability to think straight by jumping on his unintentional innuendo. “I agree totally, but what should we do about the contract?”

The look that crossed his face was a priceless mixture of disbelief and confusion. The look on her face sported a playful grin, obviously enjoying his moment of discomfort. She brought a hand to her lips in a half-hearted attempt to stifle a giggle. Grayson knew a shot across the bow when he saw it. The tiny little devil perched on his right shoulder bent over double and smacked his little red knee with glee. Standing on his tiptoes and yanking down on Grayson’s earlobe, he yelled, “Yeah buddy! Ms. Melanie wants to ride the wild pony! You go, boy!” The angel perched on his opposite shoulder just crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, knowing the obvious destination of this encounter.

“I’m kidding,” she added, touching his arm once more, attempting to get the conversation back onto an all-business track. “Yes, if we get legal involved on either end we’ll have complications for sure.”

Chances of getting this encounter back on track were rapidly sliding down the list of priorities. In the absence of words, they decided much even though they walked on in silence. He'd steal a glance at her as they walked, then she'd return the theft after he turned back to their journey. Options, decisions and anticipation of possible outcomes played out each in their own minds. Neither knew for sure, but both suspected. A short distance later he spoke, saying, “I vote we get a table at Manny’s, sign this contract and the addendum you suggested, and then we can concentrate on having a bit of celebration. What d'you say, Melanie?”

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Sellars.” 

“Grayson.”

“Okay…Grayson, a celebration it shall be.”

 * * * 

The lunch crowd appeared to be every bit as intense as the evening rush; not that it mattered. He’d earned status of being a regular at Manny’s, and dining frequency had its privileges – the host seated them almost immediately in a circular booth in the far corner. Their conversation hovered aimlessly about the contract, each distracted by the thoughts of the celebration. Both could sense that business served merely as the lowest common denominator, and both knew much more serious transactions lie in wait for execution.

Their waiter, decked out in a heavily starched jacket and a slightly cockeyed bowtie, approached the table and paused, waiting for conversation to break. “Would you like to see the wine list?”

Grayson drew a breath to respond, and she filled the gap. “Yes, please!”

“Very well,” he nodded and handed it to her. 

She took the wine list from the waiter, opened it and leaned over toward Grayson so they both could review the choices. Their shoulders touched lightly. Once again the kinesthetics of body language spoke over the words they exchanged, detailing parallel agendas that ran just beneath the surface. A hand on the arm meant one thing, but leaning over and resting a shoulder against a shoulder implied something else all together. He felt evidence of power and strength flow through their connection. Fuck had finally made its presence known and sat right down to join them for lunch. He silently considered, ‘What could possibly be better than fucking a woman who had to capability of fucking him back?’ 

“Do you have a favorite?” he asked.

She smiled and said, “A dry cab would suit me just perfectly.”

Grayson recaptured control of the moment and smiled up at the waiter. “Perfect. Bin 192; the ’90 Guenoc cab is our choice.” 

The waiter gave his approval with a raised eyebrow and said, “You know your wines, sir. Give me a moment, and I’ll be right back with your selection.” 

The waiter turned on his heel and headed toward the wine rack that covered most of the opposite wall. No additional conversation crossed either of their lips; however private contemplation thrived in an awkward silence. With both elbows propped on the table, she fidgeted with her fingers, trying to look relaxed. After he placed his linen napkin in his lap, he discovered he had nothing else to do with his hands either. By default, he decided that straightening silverware by his plate would be a good thing to do. Grayson marveled at how quickly the momentum of fantasy could be blind-sided by unforeseen doubt.

She broke the silence. “I’ve never had this wine before. Have you?”

“Yes,” he said, fighting off the schoolboy clumsiness of a first date. “It has an awesome peppery aftertaste that is perfect with rare meat.”

“So you like it rare do you?”

“Hmm, absolutely, just spank it, and it's ready to eat,” he said.

The momentum returned as quickly as it left. “Ummm…a man after my own heart,” she replied. “I prefer to feel a pulse in the meat I put in my mouth. It can’t be too rare.”

Grayson nearly fell out of his seat. He fought to hide the crimson that flooded his face, and nothing he could do could prevent his cock from hardening in anticipation. Blood thundered in his ears as his mouth opened and closed like a trout out of water in an attempt to speak.

“And here we are,” interrupted the waiter, cradling the cabernet in his hand, displaying the label for their inspection. Grayson looked toward the bottle held before him and blinked, unable to focus. It could have been a bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill, and he really could care less at that point.

He nodded. “That’s her,” trusting the waiter had pulled from the right bin.

The waiter expertly uncorked the bottle and poured a sample into Grayson’s glass. He lifted the wineglass by the stem and swirled the contents, admiring the cling stretching up the side of the crystal. He brought it to his nose and breathed deeply, eyes closing. The pungent bouquet promised a reward of many years preparation. Tossing the sample across his tongue, he swirled the ruby nectar around in his mouth before swallowing. 

“Excellent!” he said finally. “She's a keeper.” He sat back, drawing another deep breath to capture the remnants of that first memorable mouthful. An unbridled rush of lust came at him, as he remembered what she'd said about the way she liked her meat prepared. ‘...a pulse in her mouth. Jesus!’ The waiter filled both glasses just under half full, rolling the bottle expertly to capture the last drop clinging on the lip. Such precision. Perfection. Her mouth. The wine. His pulse. Fuck.

Melanie broke into his concentration. “I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone enjoy a taste of wine as much as you just did.”  

He looked at her and shifted in his seat, pretending to become extremely serious.  “This wine's been waiting for twenty-seven years to be tasted. Can you imagine how anxious it must be to be released from that bottle? What a shame if I hurried through something that special. Imagine how disappointed that wine would be to just be gulped down and have every subtle nuance granted by proper aging missed entirely, to have the very essence of its soul ignored in a hurried moment of gluttony?”

“My goodness, I never really took the time to think about a glass of wine that way before.”

He grinned, leaning back into his seat. “Me neither,” he chuckled, but then looked at her directly and pausing to make eye contact before continuing. “But something that special deserves a slow tender touch.”

She reached for her glass and looked at it intently. “ It's interesting you referred to it as female.”

“Indeed I did,” he said, nodding his head slowly. “There are more than a few parallels. A good wine is to be experienced. The aroma tells a story of how bold it’s going to be well before it's ever tasted – even the sound of the liquid being poured. “Did you hear the way she slapped at the bottle as she was released it into the glass? And then, the first taste...God, the way she plays on your lips and tongue with silent gratitude...then the way she lingers in your senses after you’ve swallowed. She tells you just how grateful she is that you chose to take the time to savor her. You don’t drink a bottle of wine, dear lady, you make love to it.” 

He saw the look of pure wonder in her eyes. He’d either blown her away or confirmed that she should consider him a nut case. Absently, she licked her lips, the dreamy look on her face showed every word he’d spoken registered and had been understood – every word spoken had been felt and savored. Her pupils dilated to reveal inner thoughts he knew were replaying the way his tongue moved, hidden from her, caressing the wine in his mouth. She squirmed in her seat, further evidence to him she toyed with thoughts of how patiently he would savor her if given the chance. Grayson watched as the rich momentum of arousal welled in her eyes. He imagined erect nipples straining against her camisole as she leaned to her right, fumbling through her shoulder bag to search for the contract and addendum. Retrieving both, she placed them on the table. “Sign these, Grayson. Let’s get this out of the way. I have an idea.”

He raised his glass to his lips and took a long slow draught of the rich, red liquid. His cheeks flexed ever so subtly, evidence that his tongue concentrated artfully, moving the wine around in his mouth, toying with all it had to offer. He knew she watched even though his eyes were closed, further proof that his concentration focused on whatever the wine had to give. She did watch, spellbound and  he heard her breath catch in her throat, knowing that she had to be fantasizing about what he had to offer. He wanted to take and consume her with that same patience.

The wineglass came to rest on the white linen tablecloth, as he turned his attention to the paperwork she laid before him. Slowly, he turned his head to look in her direction.

“An idea you say?” 

Her head nodded slowly as she then took a slow sip from her wineglass. He immediately knew she also had the patience to enjoy the complexity of a fine wine. She did not swallow it right away either, demonstrating willingness to search the first flush of wine for every subtlety. Patience. The woman had patience and the presence of mind that promised exquisite pleasures - both giving and receiving. “Yes... an idea that I suspect we'll both enjoy." 

“Hmmm,” he replied, reluctantly returning his attention to the contract and the one page addendum. His eyes quickly scanned the pages for changes he'd discussed with Talbot a couple days earlier. Satisfied that everything had been adjusted as requested, ink flowed from his pen to seal the deal. The cap slipped over the tip of the pen, and he clicked it into place by tapping it on the documents before him. His eyes came back to hers to pursue the hint of an idea.

“There, business is officially out of the way.” He paused to take another healthy pull off his glass of wine.

As he savored his second mouthful, her hand came to rest on his left forearm. “There’s more serious business to tend to after we’ve finished this wine.”  

He smiled slowly, faint traces of a grin curling in anticipation at the corners of his mouth. Somehow the prospects of a working lunch had changed. Grayson knew the focus of work would soon be redefined.  

He looked at her with a feigned business-like expression. “What could be more serious than spending four hundred thousand dollars of my company’s money?” 

Melanie smiled and leaned closer to him, her eyes glued to his mouth. “You know, Grayson, that truly is a serious commitment, but I think it’ll pale when compared to how seriously we’ll treat each other if we’re willing to pretend we’ve both been waiting twenty-seven years to be savored.”

He leaned toward her and kissed her lightly, hearing and feeling her breath escape through parted lips. The tip of his tongue searched her open mouth for twenty-seven years of promise. She bit down lightly and suckled his tongue, as he kissed her harder. There may not have been that number of years of promise exchanged in their kiss, but prospects of an amazing afternoon were guaranteed.

“Ah-hem,” the waiter cleared his throat, intervening. “Have we decided on lunch?”

Melanie handed him her American Express card and said, “Yes we have.”

* * *

 “I take it you’re staying at the Marriott?”

She looked back at his mouth to speak her answer. “You can take...anything you like, Grayson.”

He rose from the table and extended his hand to help her up. “I intend to, but you have to understand this could take a while.”

She stood and kissed him quickly, whispering. “It better. It may not have been twenty-seven years for me, but there’s a lot here for you to savor.”

He squeezed her hand slightly and said,” I have no doubt...and plan to discover all of it.”

The walk back to the hotel had no words exchanged though conversation between two bodies spoke volumes exuding the heat of anticipation. Grayson could feel her strength and a sinewy power beneath her business suit as her long strides matched his. He smiled when she reached under his arm and hugged it close to her as they walked. The give and take of anticipation marked his style. This woman would soon become his plaything, and at the same time, he would offer himself as hers. Fuck walked arm-in-arm with them into the elevator, offering an intoxicating buzz far richer than a twenty-seven year old bottle of wine on an empty stomach.

At the sixteenth floor, they got off the elevator and walked down the hallway in silence. Melanie swiped her key card and opened the door to her suite, never releasing her grip on Grayson’s arm.

He looked around the suite. “I see life on the road is pretty posh.”

She turned into him. “And lonely.”

Grayson wrapped her in his arms and kissed her lightly. “I’ll bet that’s what you tell all the boys.”

“Not for twenty-seven years.” Melanie sealed her reply with parted lips planted firmly on his. She kissed him hard displaying an urgency he could not ignore. The urge to rip off her business suit and fuck her brains out screamed silently in his head. But that would not happen. He would not allow that happen. That kind of fucking had its time and place and their first time would not end up gulped down in a glutton-ness flash of lust.

She kissed him deeper, pushing into him forcing him to step backward to maintain his balance. That first step must have sent a signal of his permission for her to take what she wanted because she pushed harder and reach up to yank at his tie with one hand, fumbling with the top button at his collar with the other. That would never do...

Grayson grabbed her by the wrists and turned her about-face with his body and backed her firmly against the wall, pinning her there with his hips and a very hard penis. She looked startled by his sudden deviation from where she had been going. He pulled her wrists up over her head and licked her mouth with the tip of his tongue. “Twenty-seven years of anticipation are not going evaporate in the blaze of our lust, Melanie. We have some savoring to do.”

He thrust his hips into her with conviction, driving his manhood across her mound and into her lower belly. Grayson pulled her wrists higher on the wall, and his mouth closed on hers. They both exhaled through their noses in a synchronized hiss that ignited a slow burn against their skin. The sound that swelled in her throat transitioned from a moan to a growling agreement that reflected as much challenge as submission. Her hips echoed his want, reaching to embrace the pressure of his hardness with an aching sanctuary for it to linger.

When he broke off the kiss, she looked into his eyes a spoke her breathless truth. “I want to suck your cock.”

He increased the pressure of his thrust saying nothing, watching her face to see if she felt his reply. She did, and swiveled her hips against his erection with a reply of her own. “If we stand here with you stringing me up like this, we’ll never get to savor anything that matters.”

He released her wrists and stepped back. “Help yourself, Melanie.”

And she did, falling to her knees and yanking hard on his belt to loosen the catch. Before he could assist her efforts, she had the clasp on his trousers free, zipper down and her hand deep in the heat of his boxers. Sure-handed, she squeezed him, and his head fell backward like pleasure snatched him from behind. His cock responded with an instinctive twitch, swelling in her hand. She cooed with approval and pulled him through the flap in his boxers, holding him at the root in both hands. The savoring began as rubbed her lips and face along his length, first up one side then down the other. Lips kissed softly, parting to share the wet heat of her mouth and tongue with silken underbelly of his cock.

The agony Grayson suffered tested the very patience he felt so important. Savoring became a two-sided event much to the satisfaction of them both. When she rocked back on her hunches, he looked down at her to find her admiring his manhood. “You told me earlier how this was take a while...” Then she licked him underneath from where she held him down low to the head of his cock with excruciating deliberation. She rose to her feet, and the expression on his face showed great disappointment. She saw it and smiled wickedly. “Don’t worry, I’m not finished with you.”

Melanie grabbed two cushions off the couch and stacked them against the wall. She sat down on them and motioned for him to come closer. “I want you to feed that gorgeous piece of meat to me.”

Grayson’s heart leapt into his throat. “Feed you?”

“Yeah. Fuck my mouth at your own pace. I want your come.”

Further invitation would have been wasted words. He stepped closer and straddled her legs and the cushions to stand before her. He watched her look at his penis and decided feeding her would not only be at his pace, it would be on his terms. “Sit back with your head against the wall. Don’t move. Don’t reach. No hands.”

The look she shot at him spoke silent approval, and she scooted back tight against the wall. Grayson held his cock with one hand and proceeded to tease her lips, slipping back and forth, probing her open mouth with only the tip of his cockhead. Her eyes were closed, signaling she focused on whatever he chose for her to receive. He leaned into her gently, giving her time to suckle him a little bit at a time before withdrawing completely from her mouth. Each time he pushed deeper, and at the moment of deepest penetration he flexed, his girth expanding in her mouth, invoking simultaneous moans of satisfaction from both of them. Her tongue responded with each stroke, lavishing a slow swirl underneath as he withdrew.

Grayson could not fight the urge to sink deeper, pressing into the back of her throat. To his surprise she did not shrink from his penetration, instead she reached behind him and pulled him into her throat, swallowing his length to the hilt. She held him like that and moaned, air hissing through her nose, then pushed him away. “Now fuck me like that. Fuck me like that ‘til you come.”

He nearly came hearing those words. Permission to fuck the mouth he’d been fantasizing about since he first laid eyes on her now belonged to him. His hips drove forward, burying his manhood into her waiting mouth. He fucked her with slow deep strokes from lips to depths of her throat. Every time he remained deep she nodded encouragement. Limits were reached and surpassed with every thrust. She swallowed everything he could feed her, including the eruption when his ultimate limit came in a shuddering rush. His hands lay flat against the wall sliding downward searching for something to hold him upright, knees threatening to buckle under the crushing weight of his orgasm.

Her hands remained behind him, holding him tight to her mouth. She continued to suckle him as his erection waned. When she relaxed her hold on him, he began to withdraw, but her hands resisted, allowing him to leave her only after she swirled her tongue to savor every drop of his essence. His cock finally popped free of her mouth, and she licked her lips to relish the last remaining traces of his come. “Hmmm, 27 years of preparation and worth every second.”

Grayson shook his head to disagree. “A fucking lifetime did not prepare me for what you just did.”

“Nor what you just did for me, Grayson.”

He stepped out of his trousers and shrugged off his blazer. As he removed his tie and shirt he backed away from her and dropped into the big easy chair adjacent to the couch. “It’s my turn to savor you, Melanie, but I have one request first.”

She got to her feet and walked toward him unbuttoning her blouse as she approached. “Yes?”

“I want you to dance for me.”

Her blouse fell to the floor at her feet. “Dance?”

“Yeah.”

“With no music?”

“There’s plenty of music in that naughty girl head of yours. Pick something slow...something you’d like to listen to while you’re getting your pussy eaten.”

She paused and then smiled with her decision. “Coletrane it is.”

He nodded his approval. “I’ll hear him when I see those hips moving.”

The music played in her head and her body swept into the combined rhythm of John Coletrain and the lust in her heart. Every part of her body embraced the slow rhythmic beat; hands rubbed down her thighs as her pelvis enticed him with slow gyrations. Fingers walked the material of her skirt up showing him more and more of her thighs. She moved with purpose, obviously enjoying his attention to the little show she put on for him. Her eyes never strayed from his though his shifted away to caress every inch of her newly exposed legs. The skirt inched past the tops of her stockings, revealing a black garter, and Grayson’s eyes licked their way along the muscles that flexed high on her thighs as she dipped and swiveled, teasing with a near glimpse of the secrets she would share.

Melanie pulled the side zipper down and unhooked the waist, lowering the skirt as she swayed to her music, offering a momentary glimpse of the top edge of her panties before dropping it to the floor on top of her blouse. His eyes drank deeply of her tanned curves framed only by lacy black brassiere and skimpy lace panties. The garter and stockings added length to her legs and enhanced the movement of her hips as she continued to ride the “Trane” playing in her head. He smiled at her with approval. “At least 27 years in the making.”

Fingers slipped into her panties at the waist and slid down to collect some of her vintage on her fingers. She withdrew them and offered them to him. “Taste test?”

He motioned to her to come closer. Melanie climbed into the chair and settled onto his lap before placing her fingers to his lips. He held her hand in both of his and breathed in her the scent of her sex. His eyes closed, and he sucked her fingers into his mouth, his tongue searching for the taste that accompanied her intoxicating scent. The tip of his tongue teased the pads of the two fingers in his mouth just as he planned to tease her clit. “Perfect.”

She squirmed in his lap in anticipation as though she knew what he had planned for her. “Let’s get on the bed. I want you to feed that sweet thing to me...at your own pace of course.”

She got out of the chair and stood. “My pace...of course.”

Melanie led the way into the bedroom of the suite and crawled onto the king-sized bed, rolling onto her back. Grayson pulled off his boxers and joined her, pulling the pillows away from the headboard before lying down next to her. He scooted down in the bed slightly, reaching over his head to measure his distance from the headboard. “Now...on your knees...straddle my face. Feed me.”

Melanie gasped at his request. Grayson guessed this request had never graced her ears before, and he hoped he would be the first man to offer his mouth to her like this. “I want you to take your time. I’m not going move. Fuck my mouth just like I fucked yours.

“Jesus,” she whispered and started to pull her panties off.

He reached out and grabbed her arm. “No...leave them on....for now.”

She exhaled heavily as she complied with his request, crawling up to straddle his chest. One knee settled near his shoulder. He slipped his arms between her legs to steady her from behind as she moved her other knee above his shoulder. It took both hands gripping the headboard for her to maintain her balance, her pussy barely an inch from his waiting mouth.

“Watch me,” he whispered.

When she looked down he lifted his head and kissed her clit through her panties, sending a shockwave through her that made her jerk like she’d been shocked.

His voice became thick with desire; more a raspy whisper. “Lower. Bring it to my mouth, and let me suck it...let me eat it.”

Her breathing became shallower as she shifter her knees farther apart. His lips touched the wet silk of her panties as she settled lower over his mouth.

His lips moved against her as he spoke. “That’s it. Let me taste it.”

His mouth opened and he lifted his head enough to take a mouthful of panties and pussy, moving his jaws in a slight chewing motion, tongue pressing into the soaked material between her legs. Grabbing her by the hips from behind, he pulled her closer, taking a larger mouthful, moaning his delight. Melanie’s head did exactly what Grayson’s had done earlier, rolling back into the obvious grip of ecstasy.

He continued to tease and taunt with his tongue as her hips rocked and jerked with the slow rhythm he established. He could feel the muscles in her thighs flexing when she pivoted her hips to direct his tongue where she wanted it most. Her eyes were closed tightly and her grip on the headboard increased as he felt a deep quivering begin to grow more pronounced.

Grayson grabbed the flimsy waist band of her panties and broke the straps on either side of her waist, pulling them away from behind as his mouth continued to suck at her. Melanie was so distracted by the intense pleasure she did not realize what he had done until the silk disappeared and his tongue slipped deep inside, rocking her to the core. She screamed once and shuddered, throwing her head back again as the glorious violence of orgasm thrashed inside of her. Waves broke on top of waves as his lips sought her clit, sucking her into his mouth for his tongue to dance upon it. As her climax peaked, she unconsciously ground herself down tight against his mouth.

Grayson’s eyes closed and all his attentions dedicated on remembering every nuance of her orgasm. Every quiver, every subtle movement of her hips, every flex of the muscles along the insides of her thighs, and the struggle for her to breathe were his reward. Yes, a vintage to savor; a vintage that required drinking the entire bottle, not just a sip or two.

When Melanie regained her senses, she slipped her knees back over his arms, scooting down to straddle his hips, fully intending to collapse on his chest. As she moved down his body she soon discovered they were no where close to finished. Grayson’s cock had regained a raging erection, and the instant she made that discovery his hands were on her hips guiding her onto him. One quick thrust and he speared her soul. Quick fingers unsnapped her bra. When he pulled the straps off her shoulders she sat upright, swiveling her hips and grinding down on him. Both hands sank into her hair as she stretched, arching her back to savor his presence deep inside of her. She groaned when he thrust upward again and flexed inside of her. “Yesss, that’s what I want now. Roll me over and fuck me. Fuck me with that beautiful thick cock.”

Grayson used his powerful arms to roll over, holding the small of her back with one hand and supporting them with the other as they rotated suddenly, depositing her on her back with his cock still buried to the limit. “That’s it. Now fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

Once more no further invitation need waste the words, and Grayson withdrew slightly before driving back into her. She pulled her knees up to offer everything she had to give, urging him to take it. He took it, and he took some more. He drove into her like a pile-driver, lifting her hips off the bed with his thrusts. Harder and faster he thrust, bodies slapped together in the sweat of their lust, her nails clawed at his back. The climb to the summit became more urgent, and Grayson neared the edge. His voice groaned in the delicious agony of his lust with every breath exhaled, the sound of his completion nearing pulled Melanie along with him toward her own edge. He thrust forward and stiffened, driving her into the headboard, pushing hard and mashing her clit between his pubic bone and the root of his cock. Melanie stepped of the edge with him and fell, plunging into the mist of nothingness as he pushed to his last. She howled as she fell. “There it is...ohhh...God...there...right there.”

They became a single tangle of completion, chests heaving in unison. Both fought for breath as they clung to each other, lying so close to edges of oblivion. Grayson finally sat back on his haunches, remaining between her legs and held her thighs in his hands. “You’re quivering.”

Melanie laughed. “That’s funny, I can’t feel anything below my chin. You sir, have fucked me half to death.”

He grinned and  put the palm of his hand over her pussy, covering it completely. She looked at him quizzically. “What are you doing?”

He winked. “Banking the fire.”

They both howled with laughter, and he collapsed next to her as they fought to hold back tears. Melanie laughed so hard she snorted, and that only made things funnier. “Jayzus, and so now she snorts. So that’s what a 27 year old cabernet does to you?”

Melanie wiped a tear away and propped herself up on one elbow and smiled down at him. “It wasn’t the vintage wine, it was the vintage fuck it produced.”

Grayson furrowed his brow “Hmmm, you’ve got a point. Say...are you hungry?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking a rare filet at Manny’s,” she said.

He grinned back at her. “Good idea. You’re buying.”

She stuck out her hand to shake. “Deal?”

He took her hand and asked, “Is there an addendum to this deal too?”

She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed. “Yup, it stipulates I get my choice of dessert.”

“Where do I sign?”