EroticReverie

Annaliese James

Dinner was amazing, and I couldnt take my eyes off Malcom the entire time, and because of that, I also knew, he couldn't take his eyes off me. holding hands across the small little intimate table while waiting for our food, mouthing i love you's and him rubbing his thumbs over the back of my hands as he held each others hands. 

We talked about everything. Everything we'd missed in the few years we'd been broken up. We stick to light hearted stories of the past few years, and we don't talk about the parts that we both know. Saving the deeper conversation for when we're in private. I don't tell him about the months, and months of my spiral, or the things I did beyond what he already knew. I know i'd tell him in time, maybe. I wasnt sure if it was even something I wanted to talk about. Because do I talk about it soon? Or do I want till we're stronger? I didn't want to guilt trip him, but I just thought it was important that he knew how much it affected me when he left. How I struggled to live each day without him, at times thinking I wouldn't survive the heartbrek, and how much worse it had gotten after I'd done what I did with Josh. 

But during dinner, it's all little stories, him telling me about the firends  he made while at college and I know that there's girls in there somewhere too. I wonder how many girls he slept with , and if he thought about me when he was with them. If he really wanted to be with them or was just using them as a way to forget about me. Did he like any of them? Did he fall in love with any of them too? The mind is a dangerous thing, and I know it's no good to think and speculate about those kinds of things, but it's impossibe not to. Would we talk about the people we hooked up with while apart? It wasn't about body counts or anything, but for some reason, I just needed to know, how many, were they dating, did he get serious with anyone else? So many fucking questions, that I knew weren't important in the end, because it wouldnt change anything about the way I felt about Malcom. Yet for some reason, I was far too curious for my own good, as if I needed to know every last detail. I tell him a few things about my senior year, and then the year after. The few little jobs I had this past year before deciding I'd wanted to go to nursing school. I tell him how Lizzie and I moved out the day we graduated. He smiles as I tell him about little stories about living together. 

After we finish eating, we hold hands again, with half empty glasses of wine sitting on the table. We talk about the future, and we talk about how Lizzie is probably the most perfect person in the world, and how much we love her, and jokingly talking about how  we're probably going to have to adopt her for the way she always, and still calls us "mom and dad". 

When dinner is over, we don't go right to the room, instead we go to the bar of the restaurant. Malcom ordering us drinks, he's twenty one, I'm not, but they don't card us, and we sit and drink another glass of wine together and we're on the stools, facing each other, his hand on my leg, the one that's more covered by my dress than the other. 

His hand doesn't leave my thigh, sometimes just resting there, other times his thumb idly stroking over the satin, his eyes on my mouth, my eyes, keeping his attention on only me. It's nice, being on a date again, having him give me the same undivided attention he always did. We talk about some of our dates in highschool, and I tell him how he made our love feel like the movies, and I feel his hand grip my thigh slightly as I carry on telling him how much I loved being his girlfriends, and that he was the perfect first boyfriend for a girl to have, because he was, he really was. The flowers, the little gifts, sometimes expensive and sometimes not at all. Little handmade things , or little things he came across that made him think of me. The fact he painted his bedroom to match the color of my eyes. 

"You were so romantic for a teenage boy." I say with a smile and his hand slides down to my knee and I feel his fingers slip beneath my dress slightly, but he doesnt slide it up my leg or under and up my dress, he just needs to touch me. Have his hand on my skin and I need him to have his hand on my too. Missing the constant contact he always had to have with me. 

"Do you remember our first time together?" I ask him and he raises his brow. 

"I remember every single moment I've spent with you Annaliese." he says as if slighty offended that I'd even ask. I smile and lean over and give him a soft peck on the lips. 

"you were so nervous" I say as I let my nose brush his and I smile softly. 

"you were so sweet" I say. "So gentle and careful with me..you always were...always so good to me" I whisper and now his hand slides up my thigh. 

"Baby, if we keep talking about this, I'm going to need to take you upstairs." He warns, and Im sure people are watching out public displays of affection, and his hand under my dress on my leg, holding the side of my lower thigh. 

"and I was nervous, because I loved you, and was scared to ruin our first time, because I knew how much I loved you, and couldnt fucking wait to be inside of you, and was afraid of last two seconds" he says and I give a little laugh. 

"you had to keep stopping" I smirk, teasing him just a little, knowing that he kept stopping only for that reason, so he could last. 

"I dont think you know just how good you feel when im inside you Annaliese" he whispers. 

"I know how good YOU feel." I whisper back. 

"how good do I feel?" he whispers. I bite my lip my legs pressing together, I squirm slightly on the stool and hishand grips the side of my thigh harder. 

"you feel so good Malcom" I whisper, his nostrils flaring and his eyes dropping to my lips, then lifting back to my eyes. 

"tell me how it feels when i fill you Annaliese" he whispers and I whimper, he exhales harshly, his jaw clenching at the sound of my little whimper.

"it's like my pussy knows it's yours" I whisper and his hand slips an inch higher on my thigh, then sliding back down and grabbing the back of my knee, then slipping back up. I feel my nipples tighten and my pussy ache and I can feel how wet Im getting without even moving. 

"only you can fill me the way my pussy needs Malcom" I whispers. 

"everytime you're inside me, it feels so perfect, i love the way it feels when you push the head of your cock right inside. Like the world stops and it's just you and me the second i feel you start to stretch me open...i feel so greedy when you fill me, like its never enough" I exhale as his hands keeps squeezing and relazing, squeezing and relaxing , over and over on my thigh as I talk in a whipser to him. 

"keep going" he says , his voice low, his eyes on my mouth, then down to my breasts, down to his hand on my thigh, then back to my eyes. 

"i'm so wet" I exhale. 

"tell me more, and i'll take you upstairs and fill you Annaliese" he says and I whimper and he groans slightly and grips my legs.

"Give me more, I love hearing what it's like for you when Im in that perfect little pussy" he whispers. 

"it's so fucking good" I whimper and his eyes flick away for a moment, and my eyes do too, to the bartender who is there, looking at us. And while we've been whispering and we're not doing anything highly inappropriate, my cheeks flush as he clears his throat, clearly having heard my little sex crazed whimper and my words. 

"Would either of you like another glass?" He asks and looks at our nearly empty wine glasses.

"no, thank you, I think we're all set." Malcom says, his hand not on my leg, reaching for his back and grabbing his wallet out of his back pocket, flipping it open and throwing down a few twenties , then another. 

"Thank you" the bartender says and nods as Malcom flips his wallet shut  and then stands off the stool. Sliding it back into his pocket, his other hand still on my thigh. I smile at the way, he doesnt take his hand off my leg, until his other reaches to my elbow , then holds my other hand as he hels me off the stool.

He dips down and whispers in my ear. 

"you're not done telling me how it feels when I fuck you Annaliese." he groans queitly. 

I whimper softly. Then am blushing, from the wine, from the eyes on us as a few patrons watch us leave. Malcoms hand on my lower back as I walk beside him and he walks me to the elevator. 

As we wait for the elevator, his hand slides up my back, and around the back of my neck and I bite my lips, my thighs rubbing as I squeeze them, trying to get some kind of relief from the way my clit is fucking pounding with it's own heart beat right now. I can feel the slickness between my pussy lips , feel myself wet the tops of my thighs.

"I'm going to fuck you hard when we get to the room Annaliese." he growls. his hand on my neck squeezing slightly, his thumb then stroking the side of my neck, and I like the feel of his hand there, it's such a possesive place to hold someone, but I always loved when he did it, and I love it even more now. Missing it, missing everything about him.

I turn to look at him. "I want you to make love to me...soft...like the first time" 

He groans. He nods. "Okay baby." he says in agreement. "whatever you need, whatever you want" 

The door opens and thankfully, there's nobody in it, and nobodoy getting on with us. 

"Let's get you upstairs so I can fill you up real good Annaliese" he says as we step in and my legs fucking wobble just from his words. 

The doors shut and then our mouths and hands , are all over one another.