Sweet Tooth: A Second Chance Romance

by Aria Ford

  “Nice place,” Drew commented as he stepped out. I laughed.

  “You've always had manners.”

  He grinned at me and I impulsively wrapped my arms around him.

  He growled and drew me closer and his lips descended onto mine, warm and wet and hungry. My pulse thumped and we were hanging onto each other in the car-park, my body molding to his and his strong, lean arms crushing me against him.

  “Drew,” I murmured.

  “Let's go, huh?”

  I shivered and nodded. “This way.”

  We went into my building and made our way to the elevator. The moment the steel doors closed up we were on each other. He pushed me against the door and I could feel his body thrust against me, his hard erection pressing my belly as he pushed closer, rubbing himself on me.

  “Here we are,” I whispered as we reached my floor. We walked out and headed to my apartment.

  Inside, I shut the door and we kissed. Then he was running his hands through my hair.

  “In the bedroom?” I whispered.

  “Uh huh.”

  We went through to my bedroom and he pressed against me, holding me close, arms wrapped so tight around me that I thought I wouldn't be able to breathe properly. His mouth was clamped on mine and then we fell back together onto the bed. He reached up and loosened my hair, stroking it slowly. I shivered.

  “You look beautiful,” he whispered.

  I felt my body glow all over.

  Gently, he reached down to my shoulders and wriggled the coat off. I let him do it, sitting so he could slide it over my elbows. His hands were warm and strong as they stroked down my back, plucking at my dress. I giggled.

  “It comes over my head,” I murmured. He blushed – I could just about see his cheeks go red in the dim light of the room.

  “Oh,” he said. “Like this?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He pulled it off me and I felt my loins clench in longing as he sat back, just looking at me. In my new lacy bra and panties, I leaned back and felt his eyes devour me. I was shivering now, my whole body aching with need for him.

  “Come on,” I whispered, reaching for his buttons. I fumbled the top one open and then I tried the second. He pushed me back gently. His hands reached for my bra. I smiled and leaned back, letting him reach the clip and unfasten it. My breasts slid out of the tight lace and he sighed aloud.

  He leaned forward and his hands fastened around my breasts, my whole body tensing as he gently thumbed over my nipples. His eyes were wide as he leaned forward and took one between his lips. I almost cried out at the sweetness as his mouth fastened on one of them.

  As he sucked he kneaded me gently with his hands and my body was already shivering, my need so close to my climax that I almost cried out.

  Then he was stroking my waist, moving his hands down my body, his fingers in the waistband of my panties as he pulled them off. He leaned back and looked at me, eyes wide with longing.

  I smiled and shivered as he pushed me back onto the bed. He parted my thighs gently and slid his hand between them. I gasped as he moved lower, his mouth gently parting my folds. My body was shaking uncontrollably as he gently licked my clit.

  “Please,” I murmured. “I...want...” I could barely speak now, barely think. My climax was building inside me.

  He smiled. He undressed faster than I would have thought possible and my eyes narrowed with admiration as I saw those muscled abs.

  He slid in between my thighs and I stared in admiration again as I looked at his smooth, bone-hard cock. Other men didn't have such lovely ones, I thought with a crimson blush.

  He gently fingered me and then pushed inside me.

  I cried aloud as I felt him slide into me. It had been so long since I'd been with him. He suited me as no-one else did.

  Our passion was intense but short-lived. I climaxed after a few strokes and then he did too, gritting his teeth and pounding inside me.

  We collapsed together, our breaths mingling as our skin cooled together.

  Later, he rolled off me and lay beside me, my shoulder under his arm, my head on a strong shoulder.

  ***

  I couldn't quite believe it. I had forgotten how much I wanted Allie, how incredible I found her. She was beautiful – her body curvy and firm, those huge dark eyes watching me with a mix +5/55/of longing and trust.

  I stroked her skin, loving the satin-softness under my hand. I could smell her – cinnamon and allspice and musk-womanness – and I started feeling myself wanting her again.

  “Allie,” I murmured. I kissed her hair. My hand kneaded her waist.

  She rolled over and looked up into my eyes, those moist red lips parted just a little, revealing a pink tongue. My loins ached.

  “Mm,” she murmured. I kissed her, my tongue pushing between those plump lips and the kiss firing my loins to fresh desire. I rolled over and stared at her.

  “You are so beautiful,” I whispered.

  She smiled. “You're handsome.”

  She reached and stroked her hand down me and made my poor cock throb once more.

  “Oh, baby,” I murmured, kissing her soft, fresh-smelling hair. “I think you're going to kill me.”

  She smiled up at me, lips drawn back in a wicked laugh. “I don't think you run out that fast.”

  I felt a heat of a blush creep across my face and down to my chest. “I try not to,” I whispered.

  “Mm,” she said. The way she rolled over and held me to her made my heart stop.

  I reached down and sat, my hand stroking her neck, her shoulder, her chest. In the chalky light of the street-lamps she was so beautiful. I could see the pale glow of her skin, the smooth breast.

  “You make me want you,” I whispered. I could feel my poor cock throbbing again and I sat up fully, looking down at her, my gaze devouring her delicious body.

  “I hope so,” she whispered softly. “I want you too.”

  That was enough convincing. I leaned over and rested my hand on her arm, bending down to take her breast in my lips again. I worked at it with my lips and then slid lower, loving the sounds she made, the little gasps, as my lips left a trail down her smooth pale skin and down lower toward her clit.

  I breathed in the scent of her, loving it, as I parted her legs and buried my face in her warmth. I loved the way she felt – slippery and wet – against my mouth. I could have stayed there forever except that I could see the signs of her climax approaching. I leaned up and quickly placed myself between her thighs.

  Entering her took my breath away. As my body took over, making me push into her slowly and then faster, driving me as the sweet oceans of pleasure washed up from the head of my penis and up to my brain, I forgot everything except her and how wonderful I felt.

  Shuddering, I heard her cry out and then, explosively, I climaxed.

  “Oh, baby...” I collapsed on top of her, knowing my loins were still working, contracting inside her as she gripped me and gently relaxed.

  I lay on her and fell asleep, feeling the sweetness of absolute abandon.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Allie

  I woke up the next morning with a delicious sense of fullness inside me. I rolled over and saw Drew beside me. I remembered our lovemaking and a slow blush crept over my face.

  I watched him sleep. We hadn't closed the curtains and the sunlight played on his handsome profile, making tentative shadows on his cheeks from his long-lashed eyelids.

  I smiled, resisting the urge to make a firm kiss on those hard, tight lips. His mouth was relaxed in sleep, the firm line of it softened. His whole face was relaxed, the lines around his eyes – product of his work-stress – smoothed away. He could have been a twenty-eight year-old, as he had been when I met him.

  I stirred in his arms and he sighed, his breath deepening as he came slowly to waking. I rolled over, not wanting to disturb him or to miss the moment when he woke.

  “Uh...” he stretched and his lids flickered. He opened his eyes. Turn
ed his head abruptly. Smiled at me.

  “Hello,” I said.

  His grin widened. As he had every morning, he leaned in and kissed me.

  I let my body melt into his as I felt his lips gently mouth mine.

  “Hello,” he whispered in return.

  We made love, slow and sweet and tender. I was still half-asleep, and it was testimony to our history together that we were so well-versed in our knowledge of each other that it still worked. I was tired and fulfilled and indulged in a sweet warmness.

  I rolled over and looked down at Drew's face. “What's the time?” I asked, stroking his hair.

  Drew reached over for his watch. At some point he must have taken it off, though I didn't remember him doing it.

  “Uh...seven twenty-five.”

  “Oh.” I sat bolt upright, cheeks filled with color. “Time to work.”

  He frowned. “It's Saturday,” he murmured. He seemed almost offended by that. I laughed.

  “I have to open the bakery at eight thirty,” I said. “That gives me...um...ten minutes to dress and have coffee? Fifteen.” That was the most I could do. I sighed.

  He sat up and looked at me. “Okay. You shower, I'll do coffee.”

  “Oh. Thanks,” I said with some surprise. “That's sweet of you, but you don’t have to.”

  “Of course I will,” he said, kissing the top of my head gently. “The least I can do. You're the one who has to rush off to work, after all. I'm at my leisure.”

  I grinned at the lofty word-choice and then slithered out of bed, heading to the bathroom. As I let the hot water wash down me I wondered if he was going to stay long in Asheville today. Maybe he could at least come to work with me.

  I came out of the shower and reached for fresh clothes. I took out black slacks identical to the ones I'd worn to work yesterday, and a white blouse with a black necktie. Then I called out.

  “How's it going in there?” I could hear him banging about in the kitchen and smiled ruefully, thinking that I hadn't actually told him where to find anything. Not even coffee.

  “It's going okay,” his voice came back, sounding less than usually-confident. “I found the coffee. The pot's on the draining rack, right?”

  “Uh huh,” I said, slithering into my slacks and drawing the blouse down over my head. I had to dry my hair and then I would be ready. “Just add the hot water and push the mesh thingy down.”

  “Oh. One of those, right?”

  “Uh huh,” I called again, reaching for the dryer and plugging it in. “One of those.”

  I dried my hair quickly, leaving it vaguely damp – it could air dry but I had the man of my dreams waiting outside for me – and headed out.

  The scene in the kitchen was one of peaceful delight. Drew was at the counter, measuring the coffee out and the cups were laid on the table carefully. He'd even dug out some bread-slices and I could smell them crisping in the toaster. I smiled and hugged him.

  “Drew,” I said with some surprise. “You're so sweet.”

  “No,” he whispered, turning to face me. “You are sweet. Sweetie,” he added.

  My heart melted as he said that, the first time in years he'd done it. I leaned on his chest and breathed in the scent of him. He'd put on his suit-pants and shirt and looked stunning.

  “I feel quite spoiled,” I said as the toast finished up. I buttered it as he fixed the coffee. We joined each other at the breakfast table.

  “It's almost eight o' clock,” he said. His mouth turned down ruefully. “I'm sorry.”

  “It's not your fault,” I said as I drank the coffee, not wanting to rush. This was such a special moment, having him here in my kitchen, my body relaxed with fulfillment.

  “It is, I guess,” he murmured. “I wanted time with you...”

  “Oh, Drew.” My throat closed up and I kept quiet, knowing that if I tried to speak I'd start sobbing. I had just found him. Did he have to go? It had been so long but we'd fallen so easily into our patterns of our past relationship.

  “Allie,” he murmured. He smiled at me, a streak of butter on his top lip. I reached over to touch it and he nipped my finger.

  I laughed. “I... it's been wonderful to see you,” I murmured. Dammit, my throat was closed. I couldn't get the words out. I coughed.

  “It's been great,” he agreed. We sat quietly in the soft half-light of my kitchen as the sunlight strengthened outside.

  “We...when is your flight?” I asked, clearing my throat after a moment. Dammit, why was it so hard to talk? To think of saying goodbye?

  “At three,” he said softly. His voice sounded tight too. I sighed.

  “You can come to the bakery briefly?”

  His face lit up. “I would very much like to,” he said. “I have a free day. I want to come.”

  “Good,” I said. My heart glowed with warmth at the thought of showing him my place of work. “Well,” I added, draining my coffee in one smooth movement. “Let's go.”

  As we pulled up outside my workplace I couldn't help a glow of pride. I was proud of Drew – how handsome he was, how stylish, how well-established. I wanted to show him off, just a little.

  I bit my cheeks to keep the grin off my face as I walked into the kitchen. I could smell something cooking. Marcelle was already here. I looked at the clock on the wall. Twenty-five minutes past eight. I was late.

  “I'm sorry I'm late,” I called out. Drew frowned at me and I nodded. He was behind me as I walked into the kitchen.

  “No problem, Ms...” Marcelle trailed off uncertain, looking up. “Oh.”

  I grinned. I could see her taking in his looks, his style, his upright stance. I felt a tremor of pride inside me. “Marcelle, this is Drew Liston. He's on a visit from California. Drew, meet my chief assistant and second-in-command, Marcelle LeRoy.”

  Marcelle smiled and held out a hand, not missing a beat. “Hello, Mr. Liston.”

  “Hello, Ms. LeRoy,” Drew said. She blushed as he took her hand and I hid a bright smile, realizing there was no-one entirely immunized to his appeal.

  “So,” I said brightly. “I'd better open up the front. We'll do scones again today, hey?”

  “Yes, Ms. Hendricks,” Marcelle said and gave me a bit of a funny look. I realized that we always did the same things on Saturday – scones, croissants and buns – and it was weird of me to ask anything different. I sighed. I felt so happy and carefree today it was no wonder my thoughts were elsewhere.

  “What happens now?” Drew asked, following me into the front of the cafe. I could already see a family waiting outside and I looked round, wondering if they'd noticed him behind me.

  “Now we open up,” I said. He nodded and stepped back, conscious of the fact that it could be awkward for me to have him there in front-of-house.

  I opened the doors and the family came in. I recognized them – they often came by for pastries and coffee this time.

  “Hey!” I said cheerily. “Welcome. Beautiful day.”

  “Yeah, it sure is,” the father agreed. His wife nodded.

  “So good, after the rain. And the kids can go outside, finally.”

  “Yeah!” The small son agreed. I laughed.

  “I sympathize,” I said, giving the little boy a smile. “Coffee, yes?”

  “Yes, please. And hot milk for the kids.”

  I moved quickly to fill their orders while they looked at the board over the counter, reading the names of what was on offer. I knew what they usually had – filled croissants and dense cakes – and headed off to the back to see how things were doing.

  I was met with Drew.

  “Busy already, huh?” he said with a cocked eyebrow.

  “Uh huh,” I commented. “You should see it when it's really busy,” I added. “Madness.”

  He looked impressed. “Sounds pretty hectic.”

  “It can be.” I chuckled a little breathlessly. Having him this close and in my workspace was making me feel a strange tingle inside.

  He looked at the clock.
“I'd love to stay, but...”

  “I know,” I sighed. “You have to go. And I'm going to be busy in here too,” I said, my hands already reaching for the scone-dough bowl and measuring out ingredients reflexively as I did so.

  “Can I try something?” He asked with a boyish grin. I laughed. The smell in the place was heady, the croissants already in and baking.

  “Sure,” I said. “If you take a seat at the back there, you can have a croissant as they come out. With filling?” I asked as I started to crumb the dough.

  “Mm,” he smiled. “Is there more than one flavor?”

  “Raspberry or apricot,” I said succinctly. I was mixing the milk into the crumb mixture now, my hands working though I didn't need to take my eyes off him.

  “Almost done,” my assistant sang out. “Two more minutes.”

  “Great,” I said. I paused mixing for a bit to pop my head into the front-of-house. “Ready to order?” I asked.

  “A raspberry croissant, one with apricot, and...”

  “Two buns,” the little boy yelled triumphantly, almost cannoning out of his seat. His sister – about three years his senior – looked shyly at the table. She was clearly grown-up enough to find childish antics embarrassing. I chuckled. I liked his enthusiasm.