Chapter 13: “Dinner”
By the time Nick had emerged from his cold shower, which had served to cool his flaming appetite to a manageable level, Sarah had dressed and was waiting for him on the veranda. At first he did not see her, and was filled with momentary guilt at the thought of her running off as a result of his actions. “Sarah! Sarah?” he called out as he walked through the room.
From behind the parted sliding door curtain, he heard a small voice. “I’m out here.”
He sauntered through the room and ventured outdoors, the warmth of the early evening engulfing his body, countering the cool temperature of his skin. His hair was wet, combed back and he had shaved and changed into a pair of khakis and button down shirt. He haltered just outside the opening of the door as he spotted his daughter at the far end of the porch, her arms folded on the ledge, as she stood looking out at the ocean.
His breath caught.
Her thick, blonde hair had been pulled into a twist at the top of her head with a tortoiseshell comb. Soft wisps of hair that had come lose were blowing gently with the wind. She wore a simple bias cut, v-neck halter top black linen dress, stockings and heels. The pearls were at her neck, an iridescent glow radiating from the lustrous beads.
When she turned, he again inhaled sharply. Her frontal view was even more stunning than her profile. The dress was cut tastefully low, displaying her ample cleavage. The dress clung to her full hips sensually. She smiled a slow smile.
“Sarah…you look…absolutely…stunning,” he managed to finally say.
She laughed and replied, “You don’t look half bad yourself.”
She walked over to him and straightened his collar, smoothing down his buttoned shirt front. “Passable,” she said nodding with a furrowed brow, feigning seriousness.
He bowed slightly. “Thank you, madam.” He looked at her, as if scrutinizing her. “You’re missing something.”
“What?” Sarah looked down; inspecting herself for anything she may have neglected to put on. When she looked back up, her face twisted in a questioning look, he was holding out a small gift box, wrapped in silver paper, topped with a large graceful bow.
“What’s this?”
“Open it and you’ll find out,” he answered, laughing lightly.
“You’ve already given me too much,” she implored. “Nonsense. I could never give you enough, Sarah. Plus, it’s your birthday. I get an extra special reason to spoil you today.” He held the box out, pushing it into her hands.
Sarah carefully opened the paper to find a smaller box, similar to the one her necklace had been in. She opened it up and threw her arms around her father’s neck in excitement. “Thank you! They’re beautiful. And they match the necklace!” she exclaimed.
Sarah ran into the room, and began to insert the pearl drop earrings, replacing them where her silver studs had been. She ran back out onto the veranda to show off her new earrings.
Nick was beaming; thrilled his daughter loved the gift he had chosen for her.
“They’re perfect, Daddy!” she said breathlessly as she again wrapped her arms around his neck and showered his cheek with what felt like a thousand kisses.
Nick’s heart was warm and filled with love for his only daughter. He hugged her tightly and tried to keep thoughts of how good her warm, curvy body felt against his own; how delicious her hair and neck smelled; how he could feel her soft, full breasts pressed against his chest and the small of her back through the thin linen of her dress where his arms held her. As he felt his cock begin to stir, he pulled away from her gently and held her at arm’s length.
“You look beautiful, Sarah. I’m so pleased you like the earrings,” he said. “Let’s start heading to the restaurant. It’s just down the street. It’s a beautiful night, we can walk there.”
Sarah nodded and said, “Let me fetch my purse.”
He watched the curve of her ass and the feminine sway of her hips as she walked away. He shook his head for what must have been the twentieth time that day, and followed her into the room.
As they left the hotel, Sarah linked her arm through her father’s and smiled up at him.
He smiled down at her, his heart beating hard in his chest. They walked in silence a few moments. Nick could feel the rise of the breasts lightly touching his arm as she inhaled the salty sharpness of the sea air.
“Mmmmm. I love the smell of the ocean,” she said blissfully.
Nick cleared his throat. “Hungry?” he asked.
“Famished!” she exclaimed. He nodded slightly, unsure of what to say next. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt such discomfort in the presence of his daughter. He usually had more to say to Carly, who wasn’t exactly a connoisseur of conversation.
Entering the restaurant, Nick could see the heads of several men turn and stare at the beauty on his arm. He clasped his hand around Sarah’s and pulled her closer, protectively, instinctually.
They were escorted to their şişli bayan escort seats, at a table in the back of the restaurant. The plush chairs were spaced at a 90 degree angle, providing an even cozier setting in the dimly lit room. Nick took the privilege of holding his daughter’s chair out away from the maitre de. He touched the small of Sarah’s back, motioning her to sit, his hand draping slightly, coming to rest on what he discovered was bare skin beneath her dress. He shivered.
Nick ordered a bottle of Riesling and smiled at his surprised daughter. “It’s a special occasion.”
She raised her eyebrows in sultry look that made his cock twitch. What the hell was he doing ordering a bottle of wine for him and his daughter?
“This is a lovely restaurant,” Sarah commented, resting her hand lightly on Nick’s forearm. She could feel the strength of his arm beneath the cotton of his shirt, and could not resist grazing her fingers across the length of his arm. Heat emanated from between her legs.
Nick nodded, thankful the heavy cotton tablecloth was long enough to cover his twitching. He turned his attention to the menu. “What will you order, love?”
Sarah pursed her lips, slightly chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully. “The zucchini blossoms sound delicious to start with…and I think I will have the risotto alla primavera.” She looked up from the menu. “And you?”
“Clams oreganata and the….veal francaise with the polenta gratin and mushroom bolognese,” he said definitively as he closed the menu, placing it back on the table. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he reached to tear a piece of bread apart from the crusty loaf, dipping it in the rosemary and garlic infused oil.
Sarah placed her chin upon her hand, and gazed at her father adoringly.
Nick pointed to the bread basket. “Try some. The crust is sensational.”
She lifted her chin expectantly at him. He tore a piece, dipped it in the nutty tasting olive oil and carefully brought it to his daughter’s lips.
Sarah accepted his offering.
Nick watched as her lips enclosed around the bit of bread, her lips extending to softly touch his fingers, her velvet tongue brushing his skin, sending bullets of fire through him. He was momentarily transfixed by her mouth, and at first did not notice that her hand had come to rest on his upper thigh as she leaned forward during her taste.
A clearing of the throat brought back Nick’s attention as he tried to cool down the waves of heat circulating within him.
Sarah smiled at the waiter and took pleasure in the flustered behavior that she created within her father as she listened to him order for the both of them, stopping often to clear his throat. His normally cool and collected manner had dissipated.
The hand on her father’s leg moved so that she had his inner thigh clasped lightly within her hand, squeezing his muscle with tender, sensual movements. She smiled inwardly as she felt his quadriceps tighten and his opposite leg begin to shake nervously as he continued to place their order, his sentences halting.
As the waiter walked away, Nick drained his glass of wine in one swallow. He needed to calm his nerves. The sensations created by his daughter’s hand on his thigh were intoxicating, nearly paralyzing. He recognized that the touch was intentional this time, but felt little ability to remove her hand. Nor, did he want to, he admitted reluctantly to himself.
Sarah sipped her wine, swirling the liquid slowly in her glass, savoring the delicate peach flavor which was neither too sweet nor too dry. “Delicious,” she commented.
Nick nodded in agreement and topped off Sarah’s glass, and then his own. He coughed. “I was thinking after dinner we could stop at the hotel bar. They have a jazz band playing tonight. “
Sarah’s eyes lit up. “That would be so much fun!”
“What would you like to do tomorrow?”
“Could we go back to the park and go on the safari maybe?” she suggested. “And to the beach?” she added.
“Sure, that sounds like a good plan. Do you remember the time when you were little and an ostrich came right us, and started to peck at the bugs on the outside of the car? You practically jumped right into my lap! You wouldn’t tear yourself away from me for the rest of the ride.” Nick chuckled at the memory.
Sarah laughed along with her father, before saying, “I always felt safe in your arms.” She squeezed his thigh, the side of her palm now against his balls. She imagined the weight of them in her palms and shivered.
“You’re too old now to sit on my lap though,” Nick pointed out, growing slightly serious.
“I don’t think a woman is ever too old to sit on a man’s lap,” Sarah remarked, her words carefully chosen and said in a low voice as she leaned forward.
The innuendo was not lost on Nick and he glanced down to look at the sides of her breasts, exposed slightly, the cleavage deepened with her new position.
“Do you like the necklace on me, Daddy?” şişli escort Sarah asked in a seductive tone, her father’s attention on her breasts not unnoticed.
“They’re beautiful.”
“The necklace or my breasts?” Sarah removed the hand from her father’s thigh, and slipped it under the string of pearls, sliding her hand under one of the straps of her dress, lifting it just enough so that her nipple was exposed for his view.
Nick felt a flush rise, burning his cheeks, his eyes growing glossy and watery from the prickly heat burning behind them. His eyes were glued to the pink, tightly puckered nipple on the end of a full breast, the flesh creamy and inviting.
“Well, um….” His mouth had gone dry, and he licked his lips.
“Unless you have a pearl fetish, I’m going to guess you like the look of my breasts.”
Nick felt the burn rise high on his cheeks. Prickles of cold sweat formed on his back and neck. He hooked two fingers inside his shirt collar, trying to loosen the grip he felt forming in his throat.
The waiter appeared, and settled a plate in front of each of them. Nick was grateful for the distraction.
Sarah however, saw this as another opportunity to seduce her father. She knew full well her father’s pleasure of good food. When she was young, it was her mother who had provided him with delicacies to delight his senses, and it was she who after her mother’s death, had taken over the role of cook, creating delicious dishes that had pleased her father.
They often cooked together, finding reprieve in the sound of a chopping knife against the cutting board, experimenting with spices until they gave just the right amount of flavor to a dish, and designing concoctions based on taste, texture and just their senses.
Sarah delicately picked up the zucchini blossom, and bit into it, savoring first the crispness, and then the soft silkiness of the ricotta, and the sharpness of the Parmigiano on her tongue. She offered the other half to her father, holding the blossom to his lips, carefully weighing it on her fingers as he took a bite. He murmured his appreciation as he closed his eyes, tasting the morsel.
Sarah dipped her finger into the remaining bite, the creamy interior reminding her of the day she watched her father’s own cream spurt onto Carly’s stomach. Her eyes lit with mischief as she lifted her covered finger to her father’s mouth. “Do you taste a hint of nutmeg?”
Nick saw the gleam in his daughter’s eyes and felt the familiar throbbing between his legs at the sight of her cream covered finger. He teetered on the edge of sucking her pretty finger, desire taking hold of his body.
Sarah left little room for him to waver.
She brought her offering closer to his mouth and then touched his bottom lip, tracing a line along its full curve with the finger of her other hand, as if saying, “Open up.”
“Taste,” she demanded quietly.
Nick obliged, and opened his mouth, accepting both her finger and the ricotta dollop she had on top of it. He closed his lips, stopping at the bottom tip of her pointer finger. But she slid her finger into his mouth deeper, slowly penetrating his warmth.
He felt delirious.
Sarah felt her nipples pucker and a throb begin between her thighs. She imagined the heat of his mouth suckling her breasts, her swollen clitoris. A shiver worked its way up her spine.
“Nutmeg?” she asked again. Her finger played with his tongue, circling the tip playfully.
He nodded. His head was spinning. Nick reached under the table and tried to tame the hardness with his hand. Seconds later it was covered with her hand and the memory of their ride through the haunted house briefly flashed through his mind, scattering any thoughts of reason he may have had left. He grew harder. He met her finger with his tongue and caressed the intruding digit before pursing his lips, and suckling it.
Sarah leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Both spicy and sweet mingled together.”
She slowly removed her teasing finger from his mouth, watching it slip from his warmth, and then enclosed it within her own mouth as she slid it past her pink heart shaped lips. Nick’s eyes grew wide. He watched her teeth glide against the sides of her finger as she slowly removed it from her mouth, her eyes glued to his own. Her hand came to rest on his own above his cock. She slipped her hand under his so that it was her hand pressed down on him and not his own.
“I’ve heard some people get high on a few tablespoons of nutmeg- a sort of drowsy euphoria. Me, I can think of other ways to feel elated,” she commented nonchalantly. Her hand gripped his length, but she did nothing more than hold him, as she lifted her wine glass to her lips and drained it.
“Did you ever get high, Dad?” Her finger pointed to the bottle of wine and he filled her glass.
“Well, yes. In high school and college a few times. Pot.”
“Anything else?”
“Coke a couple of times.” He was having trouble concentrating, mecidiyeköy escort her random questioning as she stroked him throwing him off kilter. He was certain there was a wet spot on his pants.
“What was it like? I’ve heard it is better than sex. An orgasmic rush,” she murmured. Her face was close, her body leaning so that he could see her nipple as the fabric covering it flexed.
He shrugged. “Some people say it is.”
“Your clams are getting cold.” She tossed her head towards the barely touched appetizer.
Nick picked up his fork as if on autopilot and attempted to eat some of his food. He was unable to taste anything, the memory of her juices on his tongue. He needed her. He wanted her. He knew there was no denying it anymore. What they were doing now, this flirting—what they had been doing all day was over the line, he knew. He wasn’t sure if he could cross the next line, though. He knew he shouldn’t. That much he knew.
He saw the waiter approach, and he grabbed Sarah’s wrist.
She laughed and merely took his hand and placed it on her knee. When the waiter had cleared their plates, she said, “No one can see. We’re tucked here in the back, our legs covered by the tablecloth. Besides, I’m sure the waiters have seen it all.”
Her leg burned where his hand was and she ached to feel him touch her.
Steaming platters were carried to their table. Nick ordered another bottle of wine as he poured the last of the previous contents into their glasses. He was already starting to feel warm from the alcohol. But at least it blurred his conscience slightly.
Sarah dipped her fork into the risotto, and tasted the tender bite of the rice, the creamy consistency. The delicate crunch of the vegetables offset the texture well and she expressed her appreciation for the dish to the waiter as the next bottle of wine was served.
Nick lifted a bite of polenta on his fork and offered it to his daughter, who slid the smoothness onto her tongue. He gazed at her mouth lustily, hungry to kiss her. His hand started caressing her knee in small circles, seemingly not of his own volition. Moving his thumb higher onto her thigh, he continued the circular movement on her knee. He could feel her stocking, silky against his fingers and an image of what she would look like with her thighs spread flashed through his mind.
Sarah closed her eyes briefly, the sensation of her father’s hand on her sending her mind reeling, the throbbing intensifying between her thighs. She parted her legs slightly, inviting him to go further.
Nick moved his hand merely an inch higher so it was now on the bottom of her thigh. The lace strip on her stocking met his fingers. They continued their slow caress, moving between silk and lace, silk and lace. He fed her another forkful of polenta, covering it with the Bolognese, and watched as a sautéed mushroom slid past her luscious lips.
In turn, she offered him a taste of the delicate risotto, her eyes shimmering with lust, glued to his mouth. Nick moved his hand higher. She reached out and softly grazed his bottom lip with her fingertip, wiping a touch of what lingered there. He caught her finger and drew it into his mouth, creating a vacuum as he slid his tongue onto her soft skin. Before releasing it, he lightly scraped her with his teeth. Her nipples puckered, sending prickles of goose bumps appearing on her tanned arms.
Lower, his palm moved, now caressing her inner thigh. He imagined their softness inviting his mouth to further explore her. His mind was ravished, consumed by his need of her.
“You haven’t touched your veal,” she said breathlessly.
He looked at his plate briefly and then back at her. He didn’t want to tear his hand away from her leg even for the brief moment it would take to carefully cut a sliver of the tender meat.
She seemed to have read his mind and gently pushed his hand off her lap, fighting back her own urges.
Reluctantly, Nick returned to his dish and the two ate in silence for several long minutes, the tension so thick in the air, his knife could cut it. The second bottle of wine drained, although he wasn’t sure when that happened. He had lost track of time.
“My napkin fell.” She looked at him. He searched her face, hesitating a few seconds.
“I’ll get it for you.” Nick pulled his pants up at the knee an inch, loosening the fabric before getting on his knee. His face was eye level with her breasts.
Sarah looked around and seeing no interest directed at them, pulled her shoulders back, effectively pressing her breasts forward. He watched in awe as she brought her thumb and forefinger to her nipples and quickly pinched each one. The hard points were clearly visible through her dress and he felt his penis pulsate, his balls constrict almost painfully. Her hand dropped to his shoulder, as if urging him on.
Nick dropped lower, obeying her command, lifted the tablecloth and crawled under. It was dark, the light obscured by the heavy cloth surrounding him. When his eyes adjusted to the shift in light, he saw the shadow of her legs, the black heels she wore pointed outward, her thighs parted, the hem of her dress in her hands, lifted high on her thighs, exposing herself to him.