Hunger, Part Two

Ninety minutes later, John and Monica were parked down the street from the house they were supposed to be watching. Nothing of any real significance had happened, and both John and Monica were getting more than a little impatient.

Mostly, though, Monica found it difficult to concentrate on anything while John was staring at her. And he most certainly was staring at her. It was a physical act on his part, and she felt it just as much as she felt his touch. She could feel his eyes on her: he was studying her, mentally undressing her. She peered through the binoculars in an effort to distract herself from the carnal thoughts that were racing through her mind.

“John, after we’re done here, can we go get some dinner?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Anything you want, baby,” he calmly replied.

Monica thought about what she was in the mood for, but it had nothing to do with food. Well, perhaps it had a little bit to do with food. “I don’t have any real preference, John. How about you? Do you know what you want to eat?”

“Mmm hmm,” came his answer.

She was still looking through the binoculars. “What’s that?”

“You.”

She turned to see him looking wantonly at her, his penetrating eyes dancing with desire. Her pulse quickened as he slid a little closer to her and she wondered what he planned to do next. Slowly, he put a gentle hand to the side of her face, gathering a few strands of her hair and twirling them between his strong fingers.

“John. . .” was all she could mutter before he leaned in and kissed her. Monica’s blood began to race, just as it always did when his mouth was anywhere in the vicinity of her body. The kiss deepened as she felt his hand slide up her thigh, coming to rest at her waist. His fingers expertly undid the button of her slacks and then went to work on the zipper. His mouth never left hers. She was mesmerized by the taste of him. So much so, that she didn’t even realize that she was unconsciously raising her hips and helping him ease her pants down to the middle of her thighs.

When his fingers tugged at her panties, Monica came to her senses and wondered how they would explain her state of undress to a cop should they be unlucky enough to get caught.

“John,” she said again, pulling away just long enough to get the words out. “What if somebody sees us?”

“That never worried you before,” he rasped, and Monica blushed in response.

It was true. She was always getting him to try new things, both in and out of the bedroom. And she wanted his hands on her, early and often. But if they were discovered now, she was the one with her pants half off, not him.

Monica decided to try a different tactic. "What if our guy leaves the house while we're having sex?"

"I'll be watchin', don't worry." Then, he grinned. "Besides, I didn't say we were gonna have sex. There are other things I can do to you, you know."

Monica shivered at the thought. Seeing that she was wavering, John offered a compromise. He shrugged out of his black wool overcoat and placed it gingerly across her lap before leaning in for another kiss.

"Close your eyes and let me touch you," he breathed into her open mouth.

Monica said nothing but nodded her assent. She knew that she could not deny him anything. Not ever. His hand slid under the coat that was now covering her semi-nakedness. Slowly he moved her panties down her hips, just far enough to allow him access to her most sensitive regions. A sigh slipped from her lips as he teased her at first, touching her pubic hair lightly with the back of his hand. He was nipping her ear now, and she felt his warm breath tickling her neck.

She couldn't take it anymore. "Put your fingers in me, John," she begged. "I want to feel you."

"Whatever you want, baby," he said again.

Monica closed her eyes as she felt him slide two fingers inside her. He began to move them in a circle as his thumb sought out her clit, which seemed to jump out at his touch. As his fingers worked their magic John talked to her, his voice low and deep. She liked it when he talked dirty to her. He liked it, too.

"You're so wet for me, Monica," he said, to which she could only moan in reply. "I only wish I could put my tongue between your legs so I could taste you right now."

John’s words alone nearly sent her to the brink. As he spoke, his fingers sped up their movements down below. He knew her so well by now that it was scary. He knew how her body responded to his touch, and how quickly he could bring her to orgasm. In only a few minutes he felt her inner muscles clamp down around his fingers, and he kissed her again, only harder this time. He liked the way her mouth felt pressed against his as she came, and he delighted in the little whimpering sounds that escaped from the back of throat. His fingers remained inside her as he rode out the release along with her, removing them gingerly only when her body finished shuddering.

Monica leaned back against the seat, her face flushed. She smiled weakly at John as he helped her re-dress. "Thank you, John," she said. "That was indescribable."

John looked at her intently, an interesting mix of adoration and lust in his eyes. "I'd do anything for you, Mon," he said. “You know that.”

She put her hand on his face and urged him closer. Her other hand strayed down below his waist where she felt his growing want for her. "I'll make it up to you,” she promised.

“I know you will. You always do.”

"John?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"On second thought, let's forget about getting dinner. Let's go straight home, okay?"

John grinned and hit the gas.

***********************************************