by Amber Burns
Annabelle fetched her bath kit from the upstairs bathroom and brought it along with a fluffy robe downstairs to take a shower in the spare bathroom. She didn’t feel like soaking in frosting. She stood under the water for a full twenty minutes, washed her hair, and after she was done, plaited it while it was still wet.
She spent the evening on the couch with a book ‘The end of the affair’ by Graham Green. It always made her cry, but she loved the main character, Bendrix; her heart always broke for him. At eleven she stood, checked all the doors were locked and went to bed.
Sunday morning Annabelle woke to the sound of the birds chirping on her window sill. She looked up through a half-closed eye and reailzed it must have been after nine! She hadn’t slept as well as she had the past two nights in years. Her nights were usually broken, ending up with her sitting in the kitchen with tea at all hours haunted by sadness; her dreams usually disturbed by un-pleasantries. She sat up and shook her head, amazed.
“Apparently good sex helps me sleep…” she mumbled.
She was seeing Michel after five, they had planned an early dinner. For all it was worth, she planned to have a Sunday lie-in. She padded down the stairs barefooted and picked her book up off the coffee table before making a large mug of coffee. With everything gathered, Annabelle headed straight back up the stairs, book tucked under her arm, to her bed. After placing her coffee and book on her bedside table and giving the pillows a good fluffing, she leapt back under the covers and proceeded to spend several of the laziest hours she had in several months, drinking coffee, dozing sleepily, and reading.
At four she jumped in the shower and then put on a black skirt and white blouse with ruffles around the neck. She picked up the cake, which was in a container on her kitchen counter, and fetched the wrapped painting. She put everything in her car, definitely not planning on walking down the beach carrying the awkward parcels; one or both of them would end up in the sand. She saw Michel walk out to the drive as she pulled into it, obviously not expecting a car, She smiled as he squinted to see her past the glare of her headlights until she turned off the engine. He opened her door for her and embraced her tightly. She felt him breathe deeply in her neck.
“Hello, you smell so nice, amazing, yummy, almost like cake…” he murmured.
She playfully squirmed in his arms and pushed him away.
“Stop right now Mr. Deverroux, or else we might not get inside, and I have something for you.”
He leaned back and cocked his head at her, frowning.
“Now why would you have anything for me? We are having dinner at my house and I have cooked…”
She grinned, stepped out of his embrace, and opened the back door of the beaten up VW Beetle. She passed the large wrapped painting to Michel and carried the cake herself, shutting the door and walking out in front of him as he stood staring at her, dumbstruck.
“Come on birthday boy, you think I’m not sneaky? I might not have military training, but I sure have Google.”
When she walked inside and put the cake down on the kitchen counter, he stayed standing in the doorway watching her. Annabelle turned around, put her hands on her hips and looked at Michel, who had an expression somewhere between disbelief and sadness on his face.
“Anna, I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I was thirteen.”
She lifted the lid off the cake, and Michel came closer.
“Oh God that smells good. I love chocolate.”
She smacked his hand when he reached a finger toward the cake.
“Uh uh! That’s dessert.”
When he pouted like a little kid she nearly died, it was adorable.
“We can however go and open a certain birthday gift you put down in the passage, and this lack of birthday celebration, it ends now.”
She took his hand and led him to the lounge, picking up the painting as they walked past it.
***
I followed Annabelle through to my lounge, sat down on the couch next to her and then bit back a sigh as she handed the parcel to me. I was going to have to own up to my past if I wanted to build a life with her, and that was very likely a conversation that could send her running for the hills. I lifted the tape that held down the wrapping paper and started opening up what felt like a canvas. Slowly a painting was revealed to me, and I smiled when I held it up to the lamplight,
“Did you do this?” I asked, looking across at her.
When she nodded, I leaned over to kiss her, the painting still in my hands.
“Thank you, I think this is quite possibly the most awesome gift I’ve ever received. I’m going to hang it right now, look, over there on the wall where the stairs come down, it will work beautifully with the dark blue of the wall the TV screen is mounted on don’t you think?”
Annabelle nodded, smiling at my enthusiasm, it actually would work perfectly. I looked again at the area I had in mind.
“You’d best be careful to not get distracted when you’re trying to watch TV and stare at the painting instead…” she called after me as I walked off to the kitchen, returning with a hammer and picture hooks.
“While you do that Michel, I will pour us wine,” she said, and stood to leave the lounge.
Annabelle returned with two glasses and a bottle of wine. She had a peculiar expression on her face, and I sensed trouble. I put down the hammer and walked over to her, flinching when she took a step back with a very defensive expression on her face.
“Do you want to explain to me why there is a duffel bag of money in your pantry cupboard where the wine rack goes?” She asked, turning her head down and looking deeply suspicious.
“I can explain that,” I said, sitting down on the armrest of the couch. “When I came here from Afghanistan I was in a bad place after losing my friends. I had no contact with anyone still there, and lost the only family I still had contact with. I used drugs for a while to numb me from feeling anything, and in between all of that I got caught up in a bit of dealing. Some people I have contact with supplied Coke. I gave it to Allen, a local dealer, and that money is what came from it.”
I stopped, waiting for her reaction, for the running and screaming to start, for the glass to be thrown at me, anything like that. I was expecting anger, because that is how every single woman I had known in my life would have reacted.
Instead she sat down on the edge of the couch and emptied her glass of wine, and when she had emptied hers, she drained mine.
“I get the feeling you are being completely honest with me. Thank you, I really appreciate it,” She turned her eyes toward me, “What are you going to do with it?”
I shrugged.
“I honestly do not know, I have no need of it, and I don’t mean that arrogantly,” I added quickly, “I want to do something good with it.”
Her next actions surprised the hell out of me. She came to me and put her arms around me, putting her head down on mine.
“You will find the right cause, thank you again for answering me.”
I nestled my face into her blouse and kissed her stomach.
“I’ve never known any woman like you, thank you for not being angry, or screaming, or running away without letting me explain, I think that might have destroyed me.”
I stood there holding her.
When she tilted her head toward me I kissed her chin, something I’d always thought much more intimate than any make-out session, or kiss on the lips could be. She made a little mewl, and then leaned back.
“Hey, I want you to meet my dad. It’s not too soon to suggest that is it?” She asked, cringing.
I laughed, “Of course not, I’d love to meet him.”
We ate our dinner on the porch under a roof and curtain of fairy lights I’d hung up for her, a pretty place that she would like, and somewhere I planned to make love to her one night soon too, as soon as it was warm enough… I’d cooked a corn and seafood chowder that was a recipe passed straight down my family’s Cajun lines, and the enjoyment on her face was evident. S
he cut large slices of the rich chocolate cake while I made coffee, and then we moved to sit in the lounge with our dessert, admiring the painting against the stark white wall, where its stormy shadow and cloud connected to the dark blue of the opposing wall perfectly.
9
Annabelle picked at her cake, watching Michel from where she sat cross-legged on the floor against the old armchair perpendicular to the couch. He was comfortably reclined on the couch and very much enjoying his, when he saw her staring at him and stopped mid-bite, sliding from the couch. He now knelt beside her on the floor and unhooked a few of the buttons of her blouse, letting it fall open to expose her cleavage. He placed his plate on the edge of the table, within reach, and then ran his finger through the ganache frosting.
“I want my dessert this way.”
And with that he smeared a finger full of frosting straight down the centre of her breasts. Annabelle was not expecting this, and reared back, thinking of her white blouse and the staining of the dark chocolate.
“Hey!” She cried out.
As she shifted her weight back, the chair moved, leaving her to land flat on her back with chocolate down her front.
“Michel! This is going to stain!”
He ignored her, and chuckled as he crawled up her body, the spoon he was using now full of frosting. He sat with his thighs across her upper body and used his free hand to rip the blouse open completely.
“I’ll buy you two new ones that are even nicer, I’ll take you shopping Mermaid,” he said, using the spoon to trail more frosting across her chest and pulling the cups of her bra down to expose her nipples.
She bit her lower lip as the cold metal passed across her nipples and they hardened into little nubs under it.
“Right, I think I can eat my dessert now,” he said, laying the spoon aside.
Michel lowered his mouth to her and start licking, sucking and scraping the thick chocolate away with his teeth. She bucked under his mouth as the stimulation became too much, and gasped when he latched firmly onto her one nipple. Once the frosting was gone he sat up, and Annabelle almost fainted at the mischievous expression on his face.
“Stay here,” he said, and stood, walking to the kitchen.
Annabelle heard him wash his hands, and drawers opened and closed, and when Michel re-appeared he held a pair of scissors in his left hand and the rest of the cake in the other.
“What are you planning to do with those Michel?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the scissors.
He put both of the items down and straightened to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. When Annabelle tried to sit up, he pointed, gesturing for her to stay down.
“Don’t move… I have not quite finished with you young lady.”
She watched as he methodically folded back the sleeves of the light blue shirt, all the way to his elbows, and then took off the shoes and black socks he’d been wearing, so that he now stood over her in his jeans, barefooted and with his muscular forearms exposed. Annabelle felt her loins melt as heat pooled in her pelvis at the sight of him, and the authority he seemed to exude. He looked dangerous, and there was so much about him she didn’t know that scared her, and she would ask him, but not yet.
Michel bent to pick up the scissors and knelt down on one leg next to her, and much to her horror, picked up the bottom edge of her skirt. As she watched, he took the scissors and cut it open in one smooth movement, the fabric parting like butter under the sharp blades. It fell open and she lay exposed in just her simple white bra and panties, looking completely wanton with the cups pulled down below her breasts.
He swiftly snipped through the panties at both hipbones, and through the bra between her breasts, and when she blushed and tried to cover herself, her moved her hands aside.
“No, I want to see all of you, you’re so beautiful. And look, I have a plate to eat my dessert off now.”
He smiled down at her. She moaned as he squeezed her breasts and kissed her, and felt bereft when he sat up to reach for the plate of cake. She was amused anew when Michel started cutting cake into bite sized pieces and placing them all over her body. He covered the area of her body, collarbones, hollow of the throat, he even splayed out her arms and placed small nibbles in the inner elbows. Annabelle lay panting in anticipation by the time he finished laying out the cake on her torso, and when he lifted her legs lightly to part them. She closed her eyes in mortification, laid bare to his gaze.
“So gorgeous, pink and rosy,” he murmured.
Her eyes were pinched closed tightly and she tried not to think of the view he had at that moment. She jumped when she felt cold creaminess slicked onto the lips of her sex.
“Hey! Hey, hey, hey! What on earth?”
She exclaimed, her eyes flying open. He placed a hand on her lower belly.
“Hold still, you’re going to ruin my masterpiece here.”
She watched as he stood again, and vanished, coming back with a digital camera. He adjusted her hair to fall out behind her, bent her one leg up, and then moved the coffee table out of the way. She looked straight into the camera and didn’t smile, her mood very clearly not one for laughter anymore. As Michel put the camera down and walked over to her, her breathing changed. Her chest was rising and falling faster with her arousal as he bent his mouth to her skin.
He started at her collarbones, then he kissed her, and alternated like this, all the way down to her hips. By the time he had finished all the bits of cake, his shirt was smeared with chocolate. His mouth and face was a mess, as was hers. When he kissed her a final time before he moved down to her sex, he looked into her deep green-blue eyes and winked.
“Now for the grand-finale…”
Annabelle pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as his tongue brushed the first of the melted ganache from her skin. Everything felt warm. As he pushed her knees farther apart she stopped worrying about his view, and concentrated only on the sensation of his mouth on her skin. She felt the melting chocolate and cream mingle with her own moisture, and moaned aloud when his tongue ran rough as a kitten’s over her clitoris, his fingers spreading her to his ministrations.
“Anna, you are delicious,” he murmured as he licked her.
She arched her back as he fastened his mouth onto her clit, and cried out when she came seconds later; the protracted stimulation and build-up just too much. Michel crawled back up the limp length of her body and kissed her again, and she tasted herself on his tongue. It was the most erotic sensation she had ever experienced, and her fingers dug into his back when she felt his jeans rubbing against her.
“I want my dessert now Michel, sit back on the couch…” She whispered, biting the lobe of his ear.
***
I sat back on the couch and watched Annabelle get on to her hands and knees and crawl to where I reclined, having tossed her hair over her shoulder. She reached for a handful of chocolate frosting with one hand, while with the other she unzipped my jeans. I was granite-hard beneath my fitted briefs and when her deft little fingers moved the tightly stretched fabric aside my cock sprang straight out from the base of my stomach like a pillar. She took her icing-filled hand and covered me in the gooey mess. My clothing didn’t escape the carnage of chocolate and it got everywhere.
It took a very strong will to not tangle my hands in her long messy hair and pull her down onto me once she started licking, nibbling and sucking. When her mouth closed around the head of me, I physically put my hands under my legs, concentrating on breathing as I watched her. At one point she looked up at me, and I got the perfect sight of her face, big eyes, and a mouth full of me…
I was sorely tempted to reach for the camera, this was a sexy image. Her face was smeared with chocolate, and God, did anybody understand how amazing it was to see how sexy a cock was in a woman’s mouth? Especially when she raises those eyes to you, and you see how turned on she is by what she’s doing to you. She took me deeply into her throat, and her eyes closed. She gagged, but carried on moving her mouth up and dow
n on me, doing the same with her hands, using them to circle the shaft of my cock.
“I’m going to cum Anna, slow down if that’s not what you want.”
She quickened her movements, and I dropped my head back, my hands balled into fists under my legs.
“Oh God, okay. Jesus Anna, don’t stop.”
I exploded into her mouth, and as my balls tightened, she moved a hand to squeeze them gently. Everything felt so intense with her, and when I looked back up at her, she sat there grinning like the Cheshire cat, licking her fingers.
“Well don’t you just look like the cat that got the cream, lame pun, nonetheless,” I asked, lying back, flat.
She giggled.
“Well, it was chocolate flavored…”