Laguna Passionata 3

The restaurant lights had dimmed low. Through flickering candle shadows, Tiny Tina’s pulse hammered, heat coiling low in her belly. Then Ricky vanished. Only silence answered her calls. Terrified heat ripped through her when she saw the scrawled note wedged beneath her wineglass: Make that pretty pussy slick. Now. She slid trembling fingers under the linen, parting silk panties, circling her swollen clit with slick quick strokes. Her breath shuddered, nipples ached against thin fabric. Feet away waiters cruised by, their shadows skating across the table while her juice soaked the seat. Every rub sent urgent pulses up her spine. Was Ricky watching? Coming back? She spread wider, desperate, pushed two fingers inside, pumped them fast enough to draw a stifled moan behind clenched teeth. Her body clenched on the intrusion, hot slick coating her knuckles. If he walked out now, she was ruined—and dripping for it.