chocolate decadance

A rap sounded on the metal security door, carefully built up with plaster and gilt to look like something from the Marquise de Pompadour's boudoir.
"Room service," a male voice called.
Jade lifted her head from her pillow. Her dinner was here. And if her Triple Chocolate Decadance wasn;t on the cart, the waiter would have to die. She already had to do without Wyate and secks. She wasn't giving up chocolate, too.
Swiping angrily at her wet eyes with her fingertips, she scrambled off the mattress and strode to the door.
She had the chain half open before she remembered she was the supposed target of kidnappers, and looked through the peep hole.
Wyate.
Her poor heart squeezed. And then she rallied. If she couldn't kioll the waiter, Wyate would do nicely.
She straightened her shoulders and opened the door. "What's this?"
"Dinner." He eyed her warily as he wheeled the cart into the room. "And an apology. Which do you want first?"
She raised her chin another notch. "I only remember asking for dinner."
His eyes gleamed with what cuold have been admiration. Or annoyance. He positioned the serving cart in front of the green-and-white-striped couch and removed the silver tray covers. His eyes rose. "Did you really order three desserts?"
She felt the blood rise to her cheeks. "Triple Cholocate Decadance, chocolate mousse, and raspberries and cream. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Nope."
"I'm certainly old enough to order what I want."
He nodded shyly. "Yeah, I get that now."
She stopped on her way to the couh, suddenly uncertain. "Are you still talking about my triple hit of chocolate?"
"That, and other choices you have a right to make for yourself." He looked at her, his navy blue eyes dark and direct. She felt the pull of attraction low in her stomach and pressed a hand under her ribs.
"I blew it earlier, okay?" he said quietly, "I'm sorry. I'd like to make it up to you."
She narrowed her eyes, suspiciously. "Make it up to me how?"
He came around the cart, toward her. "I brought you dessert."
"The waiter was bringing me dessert."
"yeah, but would he feed you?"
A little thrill ran down the back of her neck, the backs of her arms. She hugged them around her chest. 'feed her?'
"No one has fed me since I was a baby."
He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel his body heat. "There's a first time fore everything, maybe this is yours."
"My first?" she croaked.
His mouth quirked, but his eyes were deadly serious. "Yeah. Let me be your first, Jade."
Her heart lurched. "why?"
"Because I want to. Becaues you want me to." he shrugged. "Because I like being the one you turn to when you need something."
"Like protection." she said flatly.
"or food."
"or secks? 'All part of the service' isn't that what you said? Only I don't want to be served, Wyate. I want to be-"
Loved. She almost said it. Her breath caught in her chest. She wanted him to love her.
She exhaled shakily. "-treated like an intelligent, adult, woman."
"I can treat you like a woman." he growled, and tugged her close.
Her crossed arms rested on his chest. Their lower bodies angled together. His thighs brushing hers.
He smiled down at her and said, "Open your mouth."
She frowned. "Wha--?"
But before she could close her teeth on the final consinant, his hand came up from the dessert tray and he put his finger-his finger-in her mouth. She drew back instinctively, her lips closing, her tongue pushing, and tasted... chocolate.
Her body jerked in surprise. Her heart spurted in excitement.
He ran a rough, wet pad of his finger over her lower lip.
She shivered. "What are you doing?"
"Feeding you."
"But-" she saw his hand approaching, another taste of chocolate mousse on the tip of his finger, and stopped.
He held the creamy treat to her mouth. She licked her lip. Food secks. Pretty exotic fare for a vurjin princess. She'd expected, well she didn't know what she'd expected, but not this. Neither heavy romping in the sleeping bag or a quick, hot tumble on her bed had prepared her for this.
Secks was serious. Wasn't it?
"I was taught never to play with my food." she said.
Wyate watched her, humor and heat in his eyes, and fun with food was suddenly awefully appealing.
"First time for everything," he said again.
It was a challenge. It was a dare, and everything that was determined and rebellious in her rose to take it. She closed her eyes, opened her mouth and took his finger inside her.
Sweet. The chocolate melted, rich and creamy against her palate. His skin was salty and warm and rough. She trapped his fingers between her teeth, sucking gently, and was rewarded by his sharp intake of breath.
She let her tongue taste and explore, let her arms slip down his chest and her hands slide up his back. He had such an incredable body, lean-muscled, hard. He withdrew his finger and reached behind her. Hard. Yes.
Maybe he didn't love her, she thought. But he wasn't lying when he said he wanted her.
She tipped back her head and waited, lips parted, eyes closed, for him to tease her again with exotic, eratick tastes of chocolate decadance. And then his mouth took sudden, full possession of hers, and she didn't think anymore.
He sampled her like she was dessert, ate her up in great big bites that fed her own hunger. He bit her lip and soothed the sting with his tongue, feasting on her throat until she groaned. Distracting her with his urgent mouth, he twined his fingers with hers. Something cool toucher her fingertips. She barely noticed until he brought their joined hands up level with her chin.
Three of her fingers were coated with whipped cream.
"Feed me." he commaned hoarsly.
Oh. Her body tightened, her knees weakened at the hunger in his eyes, at the rasp in hsi voice. Could she?
"I don't-"
"If you want to stop," he rasped. "we'll stop. But tell me now."
Her pulse thudded. She could see his beating in the hollow under his strong jaw. AShe could go on hiding in her safe tower, Or she could take a running leap off the balcony and count on this battered warrior to catch her.
Slowly, she lifted her hand to his mouth. Holding her gaze, he suckled gently on her fingers. They both shuddered and groaned.
She fed him again, her breath quick and shallow as she felt the tug of his mouth on her fingers. He fed her. They fed each other, tiny bites of dense, dark chocolate interspersed with creamy mousse and tart berried and slow, wet kisses.
He peele back her collar and set his teeth against her column of her throat. He pulled back the panels of her blouse to nuzzle her breasts. She arched back over his arm, and he licked under the thin silk of her bro and devoured her.
She pulled at his shirt. His skin was smooth and hot. And then her questing hands slid over a ragged ridge of flesh, and he flinched.
She stilled. "Did I huert you?"
"No. No, but it's..." He straightened. His eyes were cool and blank. :the scar is pretty ugly."
She relaxed. "But it's not still sore?"
"Not now," But when her hand glided along his shoulder, he caught and held it tightly. "Maybe you'd be more comfotable if I left my shirt on."
She remembered even when he'd had her hare on her bed, he'd stayed fully dressed. Not to exploit her weeakness, she realized suddenly, but to protect his. She melted. But how could she tell him his scars didn't matter?
She smield, hoping he would read the warmth in her eyes as desire, and not pity. "Maybe you'd be more comfortable." she teased. "I want you n@cked.
His chest expanded with his breath. He stiffened as she slowly tugged on his shirt, as she slowly uncovered his sohulder, but he did not try to stop her.
The scar was big-at least three inches across. And deep-maybe half an inch gouged out of the hard curve of his arm. And whine red, waffled from the skin graffed. Visible marks from sutures marched along the edges.
She thought of what he'd survived, what he had endured, what he had felt, and tears thickened her throat.
"Told you it was ugly." he said in the face of her continued silence.
"Not ugly." she said.
Not in her eyes. It was a mark of his courage, a badge of his strength. It was part of him, like his blunt assurance pr his prowling walk or the perception in his dark-blue eyes. And so she kissed the line of Frankenstein stitches and the purple, waffled scar. She kissed his collarbone and his warm, strong neck. He smelled delicious. Sge stood on tiptoe to kiss his chin, and his breath exploded and he reached for her.
He sank with her on the silk-and-down cushions of the couch and did things with ihs hands. He did things with his mouth. He did things with the sweet cream and chocolate from the tray beside them until she thought with the tattered regements of her mind that she could never look at a barry again without blushing. He touched her at her center, and at her heart, licked sucked and stroked her until heat shimmied through her and she stretched and clutched and cried out his name.
When he moved over her, his body hot and urgent, her heart still idd wonder. He was so beautiful. So beautifully made, so amazingly male.
And hers. For now, in this moment, he was hers.
But even as she arched to take him, her sisters cautions nagged at her.
"I b-bought..." Jade stammered, "At the airport...."
Would he even use protection? She had read some men didn't like them.
He kissed her forehead. "I'll take care of it."
She relaxed. Of course he would. Wyate always protected her.
She waited while he grabbed his discarded jeans. Anticipation tensed her stomach. She knew what was going to happen. She wasn't totaly naive. And she wanted his full, fierce possession, desperately. But all her book knowledge and all her desire hadn't prepared her for the sight of him, large and hard and dark. Kneeling over her...
He covered himself and then moved between her legs. She spread them to take him. A cushion slithered to the carpet. The soft silk was cool and smooth against her back. Wyate was hot and unyeilding against her inner thighs, nudging her belly.
She bit her lip. "Maybe I'm not ready."
"Yes." he said. "You are."
And in one smooth thrust, he was there, inside her, all the way inside. She felt the shock of it in her body, saw the shock of it in his eyes.
He braced his arms by her head. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." she said breathlessly, becuase it was true. Amazingly. She ran her hands over his damp back and tilted her hips to him.
He groaned and started moving, in and out. Her hands gripping his biceps, moving to his back. In and out. Her breath caught. Their eyes held, and still he moved, on her and in her, beyond challense and play, beyond laughter and heat, beyond his command and her deepest, most secret yearnings.
He moved them both to their limits and into the unknown darkness, like a man going into the earth after the sparkling ore at the rock's heart. She felt it twisting and sparling along her veins, felt it shatter and cascade at his touch.
She cried out. "Wyate!"
And like a blind fool in the minute, he lost himeslf and found... treasure.