Vettel One Shots

Impatience

She'd just finished her starter when she became aware of Sebastian's hand, his fingertips dancing lightly over the skin of her right thigh. She thought nothing of it, it wasn't unusual for him to place his hand on her thigh like that whether it was at an event like this, dining with sponsors, or whether they were just at home relaxing on the sofa and watching tv. She still glanced his way though; he looked breathtakingly handsome in his black suit and she suddenly longed to be able to be able to take hold of him by his beard covered chin (he hadn't shaved for just over three weeks) to turn his head in her direction so she could capture those deliciously full, pink lips of his in a passionate kiss.

Sat on a table with six other diners, he was engaged in conversation with a man from BWT (Best Water Technology), one of Aston Martin's main sponsors but was aware of her eyes on him and he glanced her way too, his eyes quickly shining with adoration and love.

She felt him give her thigh a gentle squeeze; a sweet but sexual nonverbal form of communication, a silent "I love you".

Content with his physical form of attention she went back to casting her eyes around the large room, a conference room in a posh hotel in Hungary. It wasn't a particularly glamorous looking room with its plain cream walls and charcoal carpeted floor. There were no chandeliers or opulent drapes, just some large signage boards dotted around the edge of the room showing sponsors names. On the tables, small pillar candles were centred on each one, sat on top of pure white table linen and surround by silver cutlery and glasses in three different sizes. The lights were dimmed but not to such an extent that you struggled to see while you ate but with the candle, it still gave each table a bit more of an intimate atmosphere. Their fellow diners were all couples but of varying ages, though she was sure that herself and Sebastian were the youngest on their table.

Seb took the moment before their empty plates were taken away to take a look at his beautiful wife. Her royal blue Hervé Léger dress almost matched her eyes, stood out against her soft creamy skin and brought out the red hue to her curled, wavy, shoulder length brown hair. The bandage style style dress perfectly accentuated every curve of her body, showcased the cleavage he loved to get lost in and wrapped her stunningly sexy behind like it was gift to himself. Just looking at her was enough to make him feel ridiculously horny. As the staff appeared to clear the table, ready for their main course, he averted his gaze, lowering it down to the table while quietly thanking the waiter who took his plate. He snuck another glance at his wife, this time from the corner of his eye. Suddenly he found himself wishing that he could peel that bandage dress off of her body and then plunge into her as far and as hard as he could go. That familiar, warm ache began to blossom deep in his belly as he thought about how tight she felt, how warm and slick she felt and how angelic she sounded when she moaned out his name and writhed beneath him. Being buried to the hilt in his wife was a far more enjoyable prospect than being sat here, on parade in front of team sponsors. He found himself being spoken to once more by the older man on the opposite side of the table and he tried to concentrate and pay attention but his mind had already left the building and was back at the hotel room, nailing his wife in bed. He shifted in his seat as the crotch of his trousers began to feel tight. He wanted her, right now.

She listened in to their conversation, hearing Sebastian explaining how they used BWT's system in their own home in Switzerland but as she exchanged a polite smile with the older man's wife she became acutely aware of Sebastian's hand gliding slowly up her inner thigh. His fingers were a little splayed out, trying to reach further ahead; his hand was already pushing at the stretchy skirt of her expensive dress. She turned her head to look at him, wanting to give him a subtle, silent warning to stop. When he failed to look in her direction she managed to flick her right leg out a little to give him a little kick under the table. It failed to have any affect on him as his fingers drew little circles on her inner thigh, slowly inching their way up higher. In an effort to stop him she pressed her thighs together.