After Hours Menu

God, I wanted him so bad my thighs kept squeezing together under the table. The restaurant had emptied out an hour ago, but the scent of garlic, red wine, and warm bread still hung thick in the air. Soft jazz played low from the kitchen speakers while the only lights left on were the dim pendant lamps above our booth.

“Ready to try something new, Mia?” Jake asked, his voice low and rough as he slid the last wine glass aside. His fingers brushed my knee under the white tablecloth, sending sparks straight to my pussy.

I bit my lip, heart hammering. “Right here? After everyone’s gone?”

He grinned, dark eyes gleaming. “Lock’s on. No one’s coming back till morning. I want to fuck you on this table while you try not to scream.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. We’d talked about public risk for weeks, but never like this. My pulse raced as I nodded, already wet.

Jake stood, pulled me up fast, and spun me so my ass pressed against the edge of the sturdy oak table. His hands yanked my short black dress up to my waist in one rough motion. Cool air kissed my bare thighs. He hooked my lace panties aside, fingers sliding through my slick folds.

“Fuck, you’re soaked already,” he growled against my ear.

I gasped, gripping his shoulders. “Jake… hurry. I need your cock.”

He unzipped, thick dick springing free, heavy and hot. Without another word he lifted one of my legs, hooked it around his hip, and thrust deep into my pussy in a single hard stroke. The wet slap of skin echoed sharply in the empty dining room. I bit down on his collar to muffle my moan.

“Oh shit… so full,” I whispered, trembling.

He started pounding fast, almost no warm-up, just raw need. The table creaked beneath me with every deep thrust. My tits bounced inside my dress as he drove in again and again, stretching me perfectly. The wet sounds of my pussy sucking his cock filled the quiet space between jazz notes.

“Quiet, baby,” he panted, one hand clamping over my mouth while the other gripped my ass hard. “Don’t want the night crew hearing how loud you get when I fuck you.”

I whimpered into his palm, eyes rolling as his dick hit that perfect spot over and over. The danger of getting caught made everything sharper. My clit throbbed against his pelvis each time he bottomed out.

“Harder,” I begged when he moved his hand. “Fuck me like you own this pussy.”

Jake’s breath hitched. He flipped me suddenly, bending me over the table so my breasts flattened against the cool wood. Plates rattled. He kicked my feet wider, slammed back inside from behind, deeper now. The new angle made me see stars.

Skin slapped skin. My juices dripped down my thighs. He reached around, fingers finding my swollen clit, rubbing tight circles while he railed me.

“Yes… right there… don’t stop,” I moaned, trying to stay quiet but failing as pleasure coiled tight.

The restaurant’s silence amplified everything: our ragged breathing, the sticky sound of his balls hitting my wet pussy, the soft clink of silverware shifting with each powerful thrust. My orgasm crashed over me fast and brutal. I came hard, pussy clenching around his thick cock, biting my own arm to choke back the cry.

Jake groaned, pace turning erratic. “Gonna fill you up, Mia… take every drop.”

He buried himself to the hilt and came, hot pulses of cum flooding my spasming pussy. I felt every twitch, every spurt, my walls milking him greedily.

We stayed locked together, panting. Slowly he pulled out, cum trickling down my leg onto the polished floor. He tucked himself away, helped me smooth my dress, then pulled me into his lap on the booth seat.

We lay there silent, bodies still buzzing, listening to each other’s slowing breaths mix with the soft jazz. The empty restaurant felt warmer somehow, like it now held our secret.