Chocolate Temptation

by Aurora Rose Lynn

  Gently, he nudged his cock against her wet entrance, paused and groaned. “I want you, Charlie, with every muscle in my being. I know that’s not very romantic, but that’s all I’ve got.”

  She wiggled her ass in invitation. “This is all I’ve got,” she replied softly.

  He laughed quietly, set his hands on her waist and drove into her easily. “Plus your big tits. They’re a huge turn-on for me. Always have been.”

  Charlie quit thinking as he slid into her slick pussy and began to plunge far inside her, then out. The man was huge and completely filled her. His hands strayed to her swinging breasts, and he played with her taut nipples, tweaking them one by one.

  Taking a deep breath, she waited for the explosion of their bodies. They had danced around each other for so long that she welcomed the hot and wild sensations tearing through her body. Joy, affection and a hint of regret mingled with each other. She hadn’t recognised that the chase was almost as good as the actual sex.

  Edgar’s cock slid into her faster and faster, and she knew they would share an orgasm together. He came first, which triggered her climax, and the whole world veered away in a splintering of sweaty bodies and harsh, ragged breathing.

  “Charlie!” he cried out in what she took to be triumph and exaltation.

  She held herself up as long as she could before she collapsed, weak from the intense orgasm. He came along with her, and rolled to the side with her, his cock still embedded in her sheath.

  “Oh Charlie, I think I love you.”

  She was glad he couldn’t see her face. Did she need to remind him she wasn’t into relationships? He caressed her spine with long, sure strokes. She didn’t reply. If her divorce hadn’t left her scarred, perhaps she’d have been able to tell him that she had, too. But she just wasn’t sure, and silence was golden.

  * * * *

  Charlie had put her troubling thoughts aside and fallen asleep in Edgar’s arms. When she awoke, she remembered he’d said he’d dreamed about her. But why?

  She rolled over. He was watching her. His eyes were bright and alert, and she knew he hadn’t slept. “How long did I sleep?” she asked, perplexed.

  “A few minutes.”

  She blinked. “That was terrific sex but you said you’d dreamed about me. You never told me that.” Why was she being so confrontational all of a sudden?

  “No, I didn’t tell you. You were too busy telling me about new uses for whipped cream and chocolate.”

  She tried to sit up which was impossible as he lifted himself on one elbow and sucked on her beaded left nipple. “I would never have told you if I had known!” Outraged anger burst from her. Her breasts quivered deliciously as Edgar flicked his tongue over one repeatedly, bringing the point to an even tighter peak.

  His mind wasn’t working too well. “Told you what?”

  “That I didn’t have to throw myself at you!”

  Finally, in the deep haze, he began to understand. “You threw yourself at me?” He’d wanted her for so long, but he hadn’t imagined their being together would feel so right. His lame approaches hadn’t worked. Why hadn’t he come out directly and asked her if she wanted sex? Maybe he was a little hesitant too, he surmised.

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t ever do such a thing after Gary left me for that…that bimbo!”

  Edgar’s tongue stilled. He looked up and caught the furious glint in her lovely green eyes. “Is this about the relationship I referred to earlier this afternoon?”

  “Yes!” she huffed.

  Blazing tarnations, but he’d stepped in the cow pie big time. “Is that what you think I was talking about when I mentioned dreaming about you?”

  She quailed, rearing back a little and demanded, “Why else would you dream of me?”

  “Okay, look.” He released her and, she tried to cover her breasts with spanned fingers. “Scratch that about a relationship, Charlie. We wouldn’t work out, you know.”

  Which was total bullshit. He’d never known a woman quite like her and he’d marry her in an instant.

  She gave a curt nod at the room in general. “This, I mean, us right now… It’s just about sex, isn’t it?”

  Edgar puzzled over her adamant stand that what they had between them, this spark of playful companionship, was nothing more than an interlude between two sex-starved people. Could she still be in love with her ex and hope to gain him back? Why couldn’t she let go of the past?

  “Edgar? We’re only about sex, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah,” he told her reluctantly, desperately wanting to ask her why all she wanted was sex. Would she ever want more or was she so scarred by her ex’s infidelity that it had indelibly marred her for life? He didn’t have the heart to continue this encounter. If she wanted nothing more than sex, he was the wrong man for her.

  Charlie sensed right away that something had gone horribly wrong.

  “Edgar?” she whispered, struggling to find the right words. His cock was flaccid, his shoulders were hunched and he’d drawn into himself.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Charlotte, but I can’t do this.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I thought I could, but if it’s all about sex, I just can’t do it.”

  Charlie noted the use of her Christian name, and sat up, waiting for what he had to say. The whipped cream had turned sticky on her breasts and stomach, but she didn’t care, realising Edgar was in a lot of pain.

  He sat up. His shoulders slumped. “Since I was a boy, all I wanted to be was a judge like my father,” he said, hanging his head. “Before I graduated from high school, I’d been in a lot of trouble with drugs and the wrong crowd. I didn’t get straight “A’s’ or even close. Eventually, I’d turned myself around, and my father pulled a few strings to get me into Yale. I worked harder than any of the other students and graduated from law school with honours. After I got my first job, I promised I would always make him proud of me. When I married, it was for the wrong reasons—I didn’t know better, I was a workaholic and I wanted a wife who would take care of me. In the end, none of my wives and I agreed about anything except a divorce.”

  Charlie watched as he paused, ran his fingers through his hair and swallowed hard. Her heart broke for the little boy who so wanted to emulate his father that he’d set aside anything but work.

  Edgar continued. “I spend my day sorting through marital disputes, reading through divorce petitions and child custody requests that make me happy that my son and I are of the same make and model.” He laughed at his humour.

  Charlie smiled and waited. Where was his confession going? A tear straggled down her cheek. She could imagine a much younger version of Edgar standing in front of the judge and pleading a case. She bet he was damned good at the oratory and caring for his clients, whether they’d been appointed by the court or they’d heard of him by word of mouth.

  “I’ve been married three times, but I’m a lonely man. Most nights, I go home to an empty house, eat a TV dinner, check out any work that has to be done for the next day in court, and go to bed.” He spread his hands out in front of him as if pleading. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I have sneaking suspicion you don’t want to deal with failure again.”

  Her eyes must have gone round and big in surprise. She didn’t consider herself a failure. She just wanted sex. There was nothing wrong with that.

  Edgar nodded sagely. “I can see I’m squarely hitting the bull’s eye. You probably think you’ve failed your husband in your first marriage, and if you get hitched a second time around, the same thing will happen and you’ll endlessly blame yourself.” He rubbed his palms against his thighs. “I did the same every time I was divorced. I wondered how I could have prevented them and, proverbially, shot myself in the foot, over and over again.” His voice softened. “The truth is I did the best I knew at the time, but knocking yourself every time a ‘what if’ comes up is not the way to handle guilt.”

  He ended abruptly and threw a sheet and the coverlet over her naked body. “Sorry. I
get carried away and here you’re getting cold.”

  Charlie drew the coverlet up to her neck although she was warm. Edgar’s admission left her feeling let down. She’d only wanted a fun evening, not a confession about why his marriages had failed. And she also didn’t like the accusation that she thought of herself as a failure and therefore didn’t want to enter into a new relationship.

  She blinked, levelled a gaze at him and said, “You’re right. We wouldn’t work out.” Strangely, she felt as if she were heartbroken, and add in a great deal of regret. Divorce was a messy business and always left a scar.

  Then she walked away. She had no other choice.

  Chapter Five

  Two weeks had gone by. She hadn’t turned back to see Edgar’s expression as she fled the hotel room, and he hadn’t tried to stop her either. Charlie showed up in court to do her job, and the judge showed up to do his. Her heart ached, but she knew walking away was for the best. He’d been married three times, and chances were the fourth wouldn’t work out either, and he’d all but told her she thought of herself as a failure when it had come to her own marriage. It hurt that he could allude to her insecurity.

  Neither spoke to the other privately, although she did cast covert looks at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He was devastatingly sexy and way off limits. She didn’t mesh with men who accused her of not acknowledging she was a failure when it came to marriage, although she grudgingly admitted, he might be right. But what could she do? Keeping her distance was the best idea. That way no one got hurt more than they were.

  On the fourteenth day, Celeste poked her head into the courtroom door and asked in a loud whisper, “Did you do him yet, mom?”

  Several heads in the back row turned to glance over their shoulders.

  Charlie almost sank through the floor. “The joke’s getting old, Celeste,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Do who?” one of the younger women asked.

  Celeste thrust her head in further and replied, “The judge. He and my mom have the hots for each other, but they don’t want to admit it.”

  A likely story. Couldn’t anyone just leave us alone? Charlie groaned. “Celeste, that’s a private matter.”

  “If it’s supposed to be so very private, why is it that everyone in the courthouse knows you and the judge bought whipped cream and chocolate one night?” Celeste flashed back with a knowing smile. “I think you did him, but you’re not ‘fessing up.”

  Charlie sighed, and the judge’s piercing blue eyes met hers. “Is there a problem back there, Ms. Heplewich?” he boomed out.

  “Geez, Mom, here’s your chance to tell him you’ll make up with him and you love him,” Celeste prompted, tossing her hair over her shoulder coquettishly. “In a very public forum.”

  Charlie shook her head at the judge, and everything went back to normal except for Celeste shaking her head and tsking. “Mom, that was your big chance. Stand up for the man you love. Love ya!” She gave a big smacking sound which drew more unwanted attention then thankfully disappeared.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Charlie silently thanked the powers that be that her daughter hadn’t spoken any louder than she had. The judge pounded his gavel on the last case of the day and barked out, “Ms. Heplewich, in my chambers!”

  Now he would fire her, she thought as she made her way to his rooms. He’d tired of seeing her every day after she’d tempted him with whipped cream and chocolate.

  Not only had she tempted him, but she’d done herself in too. In her mind, she kept replaying the fantastic sex with Edgar. Talk about explosive friction.

  Oh shit, even though it was only one time we went out for dinner and had sex, I miss Edgar. And I always finish what I started. Maybe I was thinking I was a failure after Gary walked out on me. Yet what else could I have thought as I watched twenty years of marriage go down the toilet?

  She opened the door to the judge’s chamber. Edgar was alone and waved her inside as soon as he saw her.

  “No, I’m not going to fire you,” he told her pre-emptively as he pushed some paperwork aside on his desk. “My computer won’t turn on.”

  Uh-oh. Here we go again. A surge of relieved desire ran through her. “Have you tried plugging it in?”

  Her hands behind her back, she approached his desk. Her nerves were getting to her again. Tension coiled in every fibre of her body. Couldn’t she and Edgar have given this relationship a good try instead of giving up without bothering?

  “Yes, but it still won’t boot up.”

  Charlie leant across the desk and pressed the ‘on’ button. “Is it working now?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  He nodded curtly. “Sit down.”

  “Where?” she asked, puzzled by his sudden invitation. She wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. She just wanted to go home, alone.

  His brow arched quizzically. “Anywhere you want.” He indicated the chair facing his desk. “That chair, the couch…my lap? Your choice.”

  Then she saw what she’d missed at first glance. A can of whipped cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup and a jar of maraschino cherries.

  “What are you going to do with those?” she asked incredulously, indicating the items with a little wave.

  “I want to eat them.”

  His seductive voice sent her into the chair facing his desk. It simply wasn’t safe to sit on his lap. Being so close to him wasn’t too great an idea either. “Eat them? It’s not proper food,” she berated him.

  Oh Lord, but he’s so sexy, and I want sex, and I want him, too. All of him, in and out of bed. I’m on fire, and look at my breasts, the nipples hardening, and my pussy is so wet.

  “Not by themselves perhaps. But they’d make an excellent dessert…on your body.”

  Edgar’s words barely registered with her. “You want sex?”

  “Yeah. I want sex. Only with you though.” He rose and rounded the corner of the desk.

  Oh God, he’s coming closer. I don’t think I can handle him so near, so volatile. I swear I’ll explode and shiver through an orgasm, right in front of him. How embarrassing.

  He settled one hip against the desk and analysed her. His gaze pierced through her slim defences.

  “Um, okay,” she agreed helplessly. Her eyes wandered to the enticing items on his desk.

  “I want you to put the whipped cream and chocolate on me, too.”

  “For sex?” This couldn’t be happening.

  He stepped towards her and beckoned to her. “That is if you’re willing to take another chance on me. After all, two failures can hang out with each other, right?”

  She was about to disagree they were failures when he caught her wrist and hauled her to feet in one fluid motion. He smelled of Old Spice again.

  “Take your shirt off, so I can find myself in heaven while you do what you want with me,” he commanded softly. His gaze burned a hot trail down her throat to her suddenly sensitive breasts.

  Charlie lifted her fingers to the first button of her shirt then opened each one as she watched his face. He panted, making no attempt to hide his state of arousal. Glancing at his crotch, she saw his hard cock strained against his pants.

  Oh Lord, but he’s got a big penis. He must get that big hunk of flesh in my pussy or I’ll die. But I’ll die with a smile on my face.

  Soon, the buttons were unfastened and the shirt fronts hung to either side of her breasts. She’d worn a plain bra without lace. Who would have expected the judge to want to continue what they’d started two weeks earlier?

  He swallowed hard, and his pupils narrowed. “Man, I like you,” was all he said.

  Charlie thrilled at the touch of his languorous eyes on her chest. Without being told, she unsnapped the front closure of her bra. Her breasts immediately spilled out.

  “Oh God,” Edgar breathed.

  “You’re not about to pass out, are you?” she asked, concerned about the blood rushing to his face.

  He shook his head and, as quickly as i
f he were in a race, stripped off his clothes.

  It was her turn to hold her breath and stand in awe of his virile presence. His three wives must have been idiots to divorce him. His cock bobbed towards her, and its mushroom-shaped cap glistened with a tiny drop of pre-cum. Every hard plane and angle shouted at her that this man was masculine and not in the least self-conscious about showing off his stuff.

  “Do I meet your expectations?” he asked in a lazy voice.

  “More than meet.” Over and above her expectations. Quickly, she took off her clothes and faced him expectantly, uncertain what her next move should be.

  “Are we going to size each other up and wrestle?” His lips curved in an affectionate and wicked smile.

  Her thighs were damp and her nipples were tight and aching for his touch. “No, I want to make love to you.” She took his hand, and walked to the couch. “How do you like your ice cream? The cherry on top or on the bottom?”

  Edgar laughed, jerked his hand free and hurried to get the whipped cream and chocolate. He uncapped the cream’s nozzle and sprayed himself before he turned the can on her and sprayed her breasts, stomach and pubic curls.

  “You look fabulous,” he teased, his gaze searing through her. “How do I look?”

  Charlie moistened her lips and watched the whipped cream trickle down his flat abs and into the fine strands of curly hair nestled against his penis. “You missed a spot.” She grabbed the can and sprayed the little that remaining cream along the length of his cock.

  Chuckling softly, he seized the can from her and threw it on the floor. It landed on the carpet with a hollow thud. “I guess it hardly matters now where you like the cherry,” he said softly, pressing tender, hungry kisses on her jaw and down her throat.

  “No.” She pushed him backward on the leather couch, and he fell gracefully on his back. Charlie quickly straddled his sticky body, her heart humming with laughter. He lifted his hands and freed her hair, which tumbled around her shoulders. “I missed you,” she said, her voice catching.