Derailed II by Nelle L'Amour

interrupting the flow of motions between my legs, he slid off the leather seat and onto to his knees on the carpeted floor before me. My eyes, now half-open, met his. They twinkled with wickedness. His sizeable member was pointed at me.
    “I’m hungry too,” he growled. “Suck!”
    Another first. I bent over and wrapped my lips around the head of his member. My tongue rolled around it. The sweet-salty taste was like a delicacy, the skin like velvet. Urging me to explore, he pushed my head down the shaft with his free hand. My tongue ran along the back of it, savoring the flavor and smoothness. Yes, I was hungry, and I was going to eat him. My head bopped back up and immediately went down again, this time deeper. I gripped my hand around the base and worked that area as my mouth slid back up and then right back down again to meet it. His member swelled inside my mouth, filling the hollows of my cheeks. My eyes glimpsed his back arch as he groaned. “Oh, baby, you suck me so well.” His words were music to my ears.
    As I continued to suck his dick with accelerating speed, he began to stroke my sex harder and faster, alternating between up and down motions and circles. I was soaked and my clit was on fire. And deep inside my core, I was digesting my egg. It was all too much. I wanted to whimper. Actually, shriek, but I couldn’t because his member filled my mouth and was suffocating my vocal chords. It was so not fair that he got to moan and groan.
    I went down on him again, and this time he held me there. His thickness exploded. He let out a loud guttural groan as his orgasmic ruptures shuddered deep inside my throat, spurting cum into the cavity. Syrupy, it tasted sweet and salty like his dick.
    “Swallow,” he ordered.
    I gulped down the cum as he slowly pulled back my head by my ponytail. My eyes met his, and I rolled my tongue around my moist upper lip to let him know that I had enjoyed my appetizer.
    With a squeeze of my clit, he thanked me. The orgasm that was building in me erupted like a volcano, and I could finally let out the cry that was begging for a release. God, I hoped this part of the limo was soundproof.
    Ari zipped up his fly over his glistening mound of flesh and returned to the seat next to me. “Saarah, look at me,” he said, his voice all breathy.
    I turned my head toward him. He looked more gorgeous than ever. I couldn’t help running my hand through his tousled golden blond locks. Inside me, the little egg was still vibrating, prolonging the burst of pleasure I had just experienced.
    He traced my lips with an index finger. “I hope you enjoyed your appetizer.”
    “It was very tasty,” I managed.
    His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he poured champagne into two fluted crystal glasses. “I hope you enjoy French food as much.”
    “Sure,” I said stupidly. The closest thing to French food I’d ever eaten was Knorr’s French Onion Soup mix.
    “I’m taking you to a little French restaurant in my neighborhood. Have you ever eaten moules marinières avec frites?”
    I didn’t even know what they were.
    With a wink, he clinked his glass against mine. “To another delicious meal.”

    The bistro Ari took to me was small and intimate. Tables with red-checkered tablecloths and votive candles were lined up against mirrored walls. Since it was early, we had the place almost to ourselves. Ari insisted we sit side by side, our backs against the mirrored walls. His thigh pressed into mine as he ordered from the menu, which was written entirely in French. A chilled bottle of expensive champagne was brought immediately to our table. Our waiter poured us each a glass.
    Although the vibrating egg was deliciously distracting, I was feeling more relaxed in his presence. For a change, I started the conversation. “What were you doing in the city today?”
    He hesitated and then said, “I was seeing my shrink. We have a weekly standing appointment on Tuesday afternoons.”
    My mind flashed back