Tempted

Rosette placed both hands on his chest and pushed hard, but he didn't budge. Opening her mouth to scream, it was quickly covered by his, tasting like heady red wine. His tongue explored her mouth skillfully, inducing a low groan when she tentatively reciprocated. Feeling his warm hands cupping her face and cradling her head, she surrendered, realizing she wasn't resisting him anymore.

He enticed her with his seductive mouth, using his body to keep her against the wall. Determined, he ran his hands down her body, resting on the swell of her backside. Gently rubbing and kneading, he caused her skirt to gradually bunch around her waist. Clutching the hard muscles of his chest, she corrected herself - pectoralis muscles, as her eyes snapped open.

"I am a doctor. I am in a nice restaurant looking for a man to marry. I'm not desperate enough to engage with a stranger in a bathroom," she thought to herself, turning her head away and pushing at him once more. He chuckled, nuzzling her neck and nibbling at her skin, his rough 5 o'clock shadow sending shivers down her spine.

Successfully moving her skirt out of the way, pooling it at her waist, he slipped his hands under her underwear, pulling it down her legs. Seizing the opportunity, he firmly grabbed her backside, eliciting a throaty groan as he squeezed handfuls of her derriere while she futilely pushed against his chest.

"Stop this right now," Rosette breathlessly commanded, but he seemed unfazed, moving a hand to cover her exposed mound. His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses on her sensitive skin. As he slipped his fingers between her moist lower lips, her intended threat to scream transformed into a different response. His exploratory fingers glided along her slit, gently caressing her sensitive bundle of nerves with a finesse she had never encountered before.

Discarding her underwear and parting her legs for better access, she absentmindedly ran her hands along his muscular chest. Engaging in an aggressive kiss, she explored his mouth, while his fingers expertly teased and caressed her, arousing pleasure with each touch. Pulling back from her swollen lips, he gazed into her eyes with evident satisfaction at her heightened arousal.

She was rapidly unraveling as her hips moved under his large hands, completely surrendered to their control. Lost in the sensations, she pressed her pelvis against his fingers, yearning for more. Running her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, she relished the feel of the smooth, robust muscles beneath.

Breaking their intense gaze, he leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, clothes and all. She couldn't contain herself. Moaning, convulsing with his fingers just entering her, she experienced a mind-blowing orgasm.

Her legs felt wobbly, her breaths quick and shallow. Her pale skin flushed unmistakably hot. Leaning against her, his forehead resting on hers, she couldn't discern whether she felt humiliated until he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them. That was the breaking point.

Pulling down her skirt, she attempted to maneuver past him towards the door, but he halted her with one strong arm. Pinning her against the wall with his hip, she realized the true magnitude of his size. Feeling his outline pressing into her stomach, her eyes widened as she comprehended what he might believe she 'owed' him. Gasping in horror, she searched his face.

He smiled down at her, devoid of malice. "You are perfect," he murmured before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Struggling through the remainder of dinner with Jerson, she returned to the table clutching her sweater over the wet mark on her right breast. She never managed to alleviate the damp sensation, which now felt a hundred times worse.

Too rattled to retrieve her panties, she felt as though the back of her skirt was soaked. To compound matters, she couldn't comprehend Mr. Tall and Dark's laughter as he escorted her out of the stall or his cryptic, "I'll see you later, Rosette."

 'How did he know my name?' echoed in her panicked thoughts throughout the meal.

 Thankfully, Jerson appeared content to continue his discourse on real estate woes in the twentieth century. At one point, he remarked that she seemed flushed, almost causing her to burst into laughter.

"Must be the cold that's going around," Rosette stammered, "I should probably head home," eager for an escape.

Jerson appeared momentarily concerned, but his expression remained unchanged, unable to furrow his brow in genuine worry. Feeling a surge of absurdity and on the verge of laughter, she urgently needed to leave.

The chill outside seemed to revive her scattered thoughts. Clutching her sweater tightly around her, she handed the valet her ticket. It was just a momentary fling, she reassured herself. Nothing to fret over. Happens all the time to other women, she imagined.

The absence of any emotional response when Jerson's lips met hers as their cars arrived troubled Rosette more than anything. The memory of warm lips pressing her against a cold bathroom wall lingered in her mind, prompting self-reflection on her feelings.

Getting into her truck was the first genuinely comfortable act she had undertaken all evening. Retrieving her iPod from her purse, filled with loud, obnoxious music for escapism, she cranked up the rock music as high as it could go, trying to drown out the night's unsettling events.

Rosette raced home at speeds she wouldn't typically drive, the speedometer nearing ninety when she noticed red and blue lights in her rearview mirror. Pulling over on a quiet stretch of highway, she found herself uttering curse words she hadn't used in years.

As she fumbled with her glove box, the officer casually approached her car and leaned in through the open window, assuming the most relaxed pose she had ever witnessed from a police officer. She sat there with her license and registration, staring at him as he casually picked up a strand of her hair, sniffing it before placing it back on her shoulder.

"So, what's the rush, Miss Rosette?" he inquired, without requesting her identification. The situation felt bizarre, teetering between amusement and unease.

"I was just heading home, not feeling well...," she trailed off as she realized he already knew her name, observing him take another deliberate sniff of the air.

"He had you worked up, didn't he?" the officer remarked. She then noticed the imposing figure leaning into her window, his thick, dark hair styled in a short military cut sparking a sense of recognition.

"Well, I asked you a question," he teased, smiling and leaning in. "Y-Yes," she stammered, "I'm worked up," too terrified to elaborate.

The notion that this man might be aware of what had transpired at the restaurant was incomprehensible to Rosette. Shaking her head slowly, she gazed at him, dismissing the possibility.

"Slow down," the officer advised, withdrawing from the window and tapping her shoulder. With that, he walked back to his cruiser, deactivating the lights and merging back onto the road, waiting until she started her truck and maneuvered ahead of him, trailing her all the way home.