by Violet Heart
Not as much as she expected, but it was something. She spooned colorful red, yellow, and orange sautéed bell peppers onto her plate and exclaimed, "Oh, we forgot the salad."
"I usually eat the salad after the meal."
"You do? Why?" All the restaurants where she ate served the salad first.
"It's better for the digestion." He forked a piece of beef into his mouth and said, "Mmm, this is even better than last time. It must have been your help."
She smiled, liking his compliment, though he blew smoke up her ass. "Considering I helped, be glad it's edible." She tried some. Delightful flavors blossomed across her taste buds in complex combinations. Her knees actually went weak. "This is delicious."
Taking a sip of wine, she closed her eyes as the underlying tartness enhanced the seasonings and heightened the taste. Wow. This guy knew what he was doing with food.
"I'm glad you like it." He took a sip of his wine and gazed at her over the rim.
He held back, and she wanted him to engage in conversation. This superficial talk, though nice, didn't feel right with him. She needed to ask more questions. Digging deep, she figured out what she most wanted to know. "Have you ever been in love?"
Quirking a single eyebrow, he set down his glass. "That's out of the blue."
"Sorry." No, she wasn't.
He thought for a minute then said, "I thought I was, once. With a feisty redhead in high school. I thought she'd be the one I would marry. Before I left for law school, I asked her to wait for me. We'd dated for two years, so I didn't think I was asking too much. She did, though. Apparently, she had big party plans for college that didn't include me."
"That really sucks. She broke your heart, huh?" Her fingers itched to take a whip to the redhead's hide for hurting him.
"No. I wasn't sad. I was angrier than I could remember, but that was because I wasn't getting things my way. I've grown up since then. How about you? Ever been in love?"
"Nope." For some reason, she was proud of that fact.
He stopped in mid-bite, his fork suspended above his plate and his mouth open. Clapping his lips closed, he stared at her a moment, as if gauging the truth of her one-word response. "Not even a crush, or an infatuation?"
"For about ten seconds, I thought I was in love with my tenth grade soccer coach. Then I found out he was gay. Turns out that was why he coached the girl's team. They wouldn't let him near the boys." She laughed. "No, I never could tolerate the immaturity of boys. By the time I was old enough to catch the attention of men, well… I can't go into that."
Did she see disappointment flash across his face? She couldn't decide because it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
"I don't think I've ever met a twenty-six year old woman who hasn't been in love at least twice. I mean real love," he said.
She needed to get off this subject. "So why did you come south? Why this law firm?"
He chuckled. "So many questions from you. What are you trying to do?"
Did she push too hard? Was she scaring him? "I'm sorry. I can stop, if you want."
"No, I like it, actually. It feels like a date."
"It does? I wouldn't know."
"You wouldn't know? What does that mean?" He set his fork on his plate and gave her his undivided attention.
Damn it, she wanted off this subject, but her big mouth brought them full circle. "I just… Well… I told you I've never been in love."
"Not having been in love before is a far cry from never dating. Holy cow, Melony. I mean, does your family hold some religious belief that doesn't allow dating?" The disbelief on his face hurt as surely as if he had slapped her.
She tried to make light of it. "Are you kidding? You've seen me in character. I'm into bondage and dominance. You think I would let a religion tell me I can or can't date?"
He relaxed and took a bite of bread. "Then what? Pardon me for saying so, but someone who looks like you not dating is just not normal."
Yeah, that hurt, too. "I told you, I wasn't into dating boys."
If he kept this up, she'd renege on her promise to let him live the month out in freedom. She tried to imagine using her whip to get him into the playroom so she could cuff him to the bar and teach him a few lessons about respect, but she couldn't. He wasn't George, or Stanley, or any of those men. He had his own mind, a strong will, and a decent sense of right and wrong. If she had the courage to face the truth, she'd admit she was damaged goods. She wasn't normal. Far from it.
"Melony?"
He'd been talking, but she hadn't heard. About to fall to pieces, she excused herself and went to her room. She locked the door and preparing for the flow of tears she had not let loose in over a year.
* * * *
Shit! Shit! Shit! He had promised himself he wouldn't push her about what happened. They made progress at dinner, asking and answering questions, but he couldn't let the dating thing go. He comprehended it related to whatever had happened to ruin her life, so why had he done that to her?
"I'm an ass," he said out loud, squeezing his eyes shut.
He took his time cleaning the kitchen and putting food away, trying to think of a way to make amends. Ruling out borrowing her car to buy her flowers, he suspected she wouldn't go for such a meaningless gesture. Finally, he had it. He cringed just thinking about it, but anything less wouldn't require the sacrifice he believed she needed from him.
Screwing up his fortitude, he marched to her bedroom door and knocked twice.
"Go away. I need to be alone," she said, her quiet voice barely audible through the wood.
"I'm sorry. I know that's not good enough," he rushed to say before she could interrupt and before he changed his mind, "so I'm willing to show you how sorry I am. I'm willing to let you cuff me to the bar."
The door cracked open almost instantly. Her eyes weren't even puffy. "Really? The bar?"
"I thought you were crying," he said, immediately regretting his insulted tone.
"I tried. I thought I would." She looked down at the floor and whispered, "I think I'm broken."
Putting out his hand, he said, "Come here. You're not broken in any way that can't be fixed, I'm sure."
She came out and closed the door, taking his hand.
"You want to put me on the bar? It might make you feel better. And if you ask really nicely, I might even put on the loincloth." He choked on the last word, hardly believing he offered.
She made a strangled sound, as if she attempted to stifle a laugh. "Can I whip you until you bleed?"
Horrified, he asked, "You really get off doing that?"
She guffawed. "No. I was joking."
He nodded. "Okay, let's not joke about that. You really freaked me out."
Smiling, she said, "I don't know how you do it."
"Do what?" He waited for her to berate him up one side and down the other for giving her such a hard time at dinner.
"Make me laugh. Nobody else can. Well, Kathy can sometimes, when she's not trying. I'm really a very serious person."
"I can see that about you. What with all the leather and implements of torture."
She punched him in the arm. Not hard, and he was grateful because he'd borne the force of one of her earnest strikes.
"Do you forgive me?" he asked. "I'm serious about the bar. Please don't make me wear the loincloth?"
She put her hand on his arm. "I forgive you. You're curious and I like that."
"Good, because that's a big part of who I am. I don't know that I could change that." He didn't seek to change her. He wanted to figure out what she enjoyed.
"I won't put you on the bar."
He breathed a sigh of relief. Another night on that thing would ruin his Sunday.
"But if you're truly sorry, there is something I'd like you to do for me."
Shit. Here it came.
She put up a finger and disappeared into her room. Returning a second later, she held out a brown box with fancy black curlicues all over it and a shiny plastic wrapping
declaring it new and unopened.
She turned it around, and he read the label. "Chocolate Body Paint."
Chapter 16
Melony let Chip take the box out of her hand. "Kathy gave it to me as a birthday gift."
"It's not open," he said.
Reluctant to say why, she said, "I've been waiting for the right time."
He tossed it in the air and caught it in one hand. "No time like the present."
She took his hand and led the way to the living room. Next to the bed, she faced him and gathered his red polo in her fingers and pulled the hem from his jeans. She slid her hands underneath, running them up the ridges of his stomach. His warmth beckoned her, and she couldn't wait to stretch out alongside him, skin to skin. He lifted his shirt off over his head and tossed it to the chair.
"You're a mystery." He lifted off her T-shirt and dropped it onto his discarded polo.
"I don't try to be." He settled his hands to her waist and her insides tightened in anticipation. Sending her fingers into the swirls of his chest hair, she looked into his eyes.
"I like a challenge," he said then lowered his face to hers.
His gentle kiss made her float, and she moved her fingers up the sides of his neck into his hair. Pressing against him, she pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Urging his lips apart, she welcomed his tongue, still flavored with wine and rich seasonings. Delicious.
He reached behind her and unhooked her bra then dragged the straps off her shoulders and peeled the cups from her breasts. He stepped back and cupped the sides, grazing his thumbs over her nipples.
"God, you're beautiful," he said with reverence. He retrieved the box from the bed, removed the plastic film and lifted the lid. "There are three jars." He took out one. "Dark chocolate. Not my favorite." He put it back and took another. "It's pink but it says white chocolate. Here, hold it." He handed the small tub to her and looked at the last one. "Milk chocolate. That's a good one."
He set the box on the arm of the chair and twisted the lid off of the brown paint. With a mischievous grin, he dipped in his finger and withdrew it with a glob of chocolate paste that looked like pudding. She closed her eyes as he drew a design around her nipples. Her breasts grew heavy and a tingling excitement slowly built at the apex of her thighs.
"Watch," he said, his voice deep and seductive.
Opening her lids, she found him on his knees. He sent his finger in swirls across her skin. Captivated, she watched him dip his fingertip into the jar and start on the other breast. "Save some for me." Was that her voice, all breathy and husky?
Replacing the lid, he gave her an intense look then took the jar of pink chocolate from her. He licked his lips and smeared the pale cream on a nipple, sending his finger round and round then clearing off the tip with his fingernail. She gasped, a shock of heat filling her belly.
As if worshiping her painted globes, Chip leaned in and touched the tip of his tongue to a pink center. Arching his eyebrows, he said, "This is my idea of dessert."
He laved her breasts, his hot tongue making her melt along with the chocolate. Moisture seeped out between her legs. Placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, she squirmed, her jeans too confining.
He stood and unfastened her pants, and she returned the favor. With his jeans gaping, she inserted her fingers into his underwear and grasped his erection. His tip peeked above the elastic band, tempting her. Sinking to her knees, she eased down the fabric blocking her goal, and scooped pink cream from the still-open jar on the floor. She swirled it around the tip, coating it completely, then took it into her mouth. He groaned and put a hand on top of her head as she sucked and tongued his cock like a piece of candy. So yummy.
She released him and tugged down his clothes. He stepped out, and she shoved them aside. His length jutted toward her and she kissed the tip, rewarded with another groan. Then she coated it in pale, creamy sweetness and licked him like ice cream. Taking as much of him into her mouth as she could, she did the same as she had done to his tip. She reached up between his thighs and palmed his balls and raked a fingertip across the skin right behind.
"Melony, don't." His voice sounded strained. He tried to pull away, but she grabbed his ass and prevented him. "I'm going to come," he warned. "Please."
He grew even harder as she sent her tongue along his girth and swallowed. Her pussy ached. She wanted to see him to orgasm, first. Doubling her efforts, she focused all her attention on his pleasure. He showed extraordinary control, however, and wouldn't let loose.
She reached under the mattress and felt for the vibrator she'd hid before the morning session. Flipping the switch at the end of the handle, she pressed the tip to his butt hole.
He cried out. Throwing back his head, he pushed against the top of her head. Swallowing in a rhythm, she increased the pressure of the wand and inserted it into his resisting sphincter. Only an inch. He cried out again and jerked, squirting warm cum against the back of her throat. Her juices flowed with a vengeance.
"Damn it," he said, out of breath. "I wanted to do that inside you."
"Not today." Not ever. She withdrew the vibrator, turned it off, and slid it under the sofa.
He took her under the arms and brought her to her feet. He bent, wrapped his lips around one of her nipples, and pushed off her jeans and panties. Melony went to ease her own swollen, aching throb, but Chip blocked her arm. "Oh, no you don't," he said. "Now it's your turn."
With an arm behind her knees, he picked her up and laid her on the bed. He settled his hips between her knees. In a panic, she shoved at his shoulders. "No. Red, red! Stop!"
"Relax," he crooned. "I'm not going to screw you. I promise."
She panted. Realizing he didn't have a hard-on, she glanced into his eyes. He was calm. It rubbed off on her. "Okay."
He kissed her, slow and easy. Taking his time, he explored her mouth and caressed her skin. Before long, he had her hot and bothered again. He gained her trust, and she let him move lower. He rained kisses down her cheek and onto her ear then nibbled on her earlobe as he worked to her neck. Alternating licks and nips, he traveled along her collarbone and along her sternum.
His lips, his mouth seduced her. Felt so good on her skin. Zigzags of electricity bolted along her nerve endings, every one of them finding their way to her slit. Her pussy ached for his touch so much she raised her hips to rub the swollen lips against him.
"Don't do that if you don't want me inside you," he warned.
He had her excited, so sensitive, that when he licked dried chocolate from her breast and brushed her hard nipple with the side of his tongue, she arched off the mattress. He took the nipple between his teeth and squeezed the other between two fingers. Deep and low, her womb lurched in reaction.
"Yes!" She grasped his shoulders.
With meticulous attention, he ate the chocolate from her until she thought she would go mad. Then he moved. Lower. Down her belly. He stabbed the tip of his tongue into her bellybutton and another jolt of pleasure sent a rush of juices along her crease. Then lower still.
"Don't," she said.
He sent kisses along the edge of her pubic hair, and her slit screamed for attention. Bringing his fingertips up her inner thigh with a feather-light touch, he whispered, "Trust me."
She had never allowed a man between her legs. He didn't know what he asked.
"Please," she said, trying to close her legs.
The throbbing grew nearly unbearable. Something cold and wet touched her aching lips and she realized he smeared her pussy with chocolate.
"I won't hurt you," he said, the air passing his lips sending a wave of goose bumps along her skin, from pubis to bellybutton. "But you have to trust me. Do you?"
Raising her head from the bed, she found him watching her. He still looked calm, confident. His finger slipped into the folds of her slit. More chocolate.
"I don't know," she said.
He pressed a kiss to the lips covering her clit then licked cream from his mouth. "I can s
top right now."
The idea crushed her with disappointment. She had already let him do what no other had when she permitted him to French-kiss her, and again this morning when she let him pleasure her pussy with his fingers. He got her off to a degree she'd never been able to do for herself.
He kissed her again then put even more chocolate into her slit. Dropping her head to the sheets, she stared at the ceiling fan overhead. He had already kissed her there. Twice. What harm could a lick or two do?
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay, what?"
"Okay. Go ahead," she said, closing her eyes and putting a hand to her forehead.
"Say what you want."
She rose to her elbows. He was serious. And not moving. She desperately needed him to give her some relief. Barely able to force the words past her lips, she whispered, "Lick me."
"Louder."
Damn him! "Lick me."
"Watch," he ordered.
He slid off the edge of the mattress and stood. He put a hand on the inside of each of her knees and spread her wide. His gaze caressed her pussy, and her heart began to race.
"You're weeping for my touch," he said. He dipped a finger into her opening then brought it to his tongue. "Sweet. I can taste how much you want me."
She couldn't deny it.
"Do you?" he asked.
"Do I what?" she said, her throat constricting.
"Trust me. Do you trust me?"
The pressure in her slit grew to a painful throb, beyond anything she could relieve on her own. "Yes!" she cried. "I trust you. Please."
He took her hips and slid her to the edge of the bed. Holding her thighs wide, he kneeled and gave her suffering folds a firm, earth-shaking lave. She sighed, resisting the urge to sink to the mattress. He did it again, spreading his tongue wide and swiping her from opening to clit.
God, that felt heavenly.
He sent the tip deep into the crease along one side then brought it up the edge of her clit.
Yes.
He did the same to the other side.
Yes. Yes!
After three more licks, he took her nerve bundle between his lips and gave it a gentle suck.