TASTE ME

by Carrie Alexander

  "But a thin layer isn't as lickable."

  She pursed her lips. "True."

  "Is this for real? The models will be edible?"

  "That's what I'm told."

  Julian hooted. "So the party guests will just grab hold of an arm, say, and—" He took hers and scooped a handful of chocolate straight out of the bucket. He smeared it along her, up to her shoulder. She shivered even though the paint was warm and really sort of erotic in a syrupy melt-my-bones way. "And swoop right in for a nibble?"

  He lowered his open mouth to her biceps and took a deep sucking taste, sliding the flat of his tongue over her skin. His lips and tongue tickled there, opening and closing and flickering, stoking the fire inside her so it roared through her as if she were a chimney. Beads of perspiration popped out along her hairline and at the back of her neck.

  "Um, yes, tha-that's the theory. But really, it's more for show—to be scandalous. I don't expect any of the guests will ac-actually be eating off the models, except for a gag, maybe—" She faltered. He was nipping at her collarbone, sending a shivering response over her nerve endings. "Julian … stop. There's no paint there."

  His head raised. "No? Then how come you taste so good?"

  "We're getting off track. I'm supposed to be painting you?

  "And tasting me." She sighed. "Yesss."

  He leaned back, propping his hands behind him on the table so his chest was on display.

  She stared for a moment at the sculptural ripples and swells. His natural skin tone was a delicious pale golden brown, like butter melting on toast. "I should have waxed you first."

  "No thanks." He squinted an eye and frowned at the patch of hair that thinned out over his pectorals. "Besides, I'm not very hairy."

  "I like a really smooth canvas." She swirled a small brush in the lime paint. Start at the neck. A neck isn't sexy.

  "Hmm." He shifted and brushed a hand inside the waistband of his boxers, sliding them a little lower, out of the spot where the slab of muscles in his abdomen creased across his navel. A narrow trail of black silken hair led her eyes downward—not that she needed directions when he was so aroused.

  "There's always plucking," she said to loosen up her thickening tongue. Keep it flexible. The better to wrap around his body parts…

  His brows shot up. "Now you're just trying to threaten me."

  "Yup. Behave or I'll get my tweezers and do this job properly."

  "I might consider shaving." He reached over and slid his fingers along the drawstring waistband of her velour sweat pants, riding low on her hips.

  She jumped. "Get your hand out of there."

  He smiled wickedly as his fingertips danced across her bare stomach. "Nice and smooth. And very warm…"

  "Cold can be fun, too." She darted the paintbrush at his chest—one, two and done.

  Julian sucked in a breath. "Not so cold, but it tingles a little."

  I'll make him tingle a lot. Mia followed with her mouth, forming a tiny O with her tips and locking them around one of his lime-green nipples. She sucked the nubbin clean, then pursed her lips and blew a whistling breath to chill his warm, wet flesh.

  His chest heaved. "Jeez," he groaned.

  "You like that?" She gave the other nipple the same treatment, then weakened and roiled her cheek against his chest, never mind the previous stripes of paint. Blindly, she set the paintbrush on the table so her hands were free to creep along his torso. Each muscle was so firm, so warm, so satiny soft and yet hard as stone…

  She pushed him down onto the table. He landed on his elbows, head still raised, watching as she took the bittersweet chocolate and tilted the dish over his abdomen. A thick, short stream of the chocolate poured onto him, and she reached in, swirling the head of a brush through the liquid. She painted a starburst pattern over his chest, ending a ray on each nipple with a tickling flick of the soft brush. He gritted his teeth. His stomach muscles twitched.

  "Hmm." She stepped back, considering the design. "More of the red, I think."

  "You forgot to taste," he said when she returned to the work table.

  "I'll get to that. Wait until I've applied a few of the other flavors."

  "I don't know how long I can wait."

  She acted unconcerned. He didn't have to know that she was burning up inside. "When I'm doing an involved project, my models might pose for an hour at a time before I let them move."

  He groaned.

  "But you're only an amateur." She came back with a new flavor, stirring it with her finger. "I'll go easy on you."

  "Don't worry. I can take it."

  "Oh? You're awfully cocky for a man who's busting out of his shorts." She smiled. "Put your head back. Give me your throat."

  He tilted obediently, closing his eyes. "What for? Planning a vampire theme?"

  "Nope. I just thought I'd like to taste you—" she stroked a finger over the long line of his throat"—right here." She ducked toward him, her tongue eagerly stretching to slurp up the stripe of pale candied paint. Her mouth lingered at the hollow of his throat, where the sticky liquid had pooled, where his strong pulse beat against her tongue.

  She popped up her head. A drop of the pearly paint had escaped from the corner of her mouth and she licked it up, reveling under his molten stare. She blinked. "Yum. Delicious."

  "What flavor?" His voice was so dry it almost crackled.

  "A new one. Passion fruit." She scooped up another dollop. "Want to try?"

  "Sure."

  "Open up."

  "I'd rather taste it off your skin."

  Her brow arched. "Who says you're not?"

  His mouth opened. She leaned over him, letting the paint drip off her finger onto his tongue. He waited a moment, but when she made no other move, he caught her finger gently between his teeth. "There you go," she crooned, shocked by the erotic intimacy of having him suck on her index finger, pulling it deeper as his hot tongue stroked and curled, holding the helpless finger tight against the roof of his mouth. Her beaded nipples tingled in response, aching to feel his mouth. She rubbed her thighs together. The heat inside her was growing impossible to ignore.

  He reached a hand around her waist, letting go of her finger as he pulled her closer, between his legs, locking them around her.

  His chocolate-covered chest loomed. She pushed at it. "What are you—"

  "Be still." He lifted the cup of passion fruit paint to his mouth, taking a big gulp before setting it aside. She had a quick glimpse of the paint coating his tongue, and then he was kissing her, one hand holding and tilting the back of her head.

  Her mouth opened to receive his rapacious kiss. His tongue invaded, sweet and tart with the mouthful of passion fruit that oozed between them. Some of it leaked out, dripping off their chins, but neither cared. She gasped for breath and twisted her body in between his legs, wanting to squeeze in even closer as his tongue dove recklessly into her mouth, demanding, taking, driving her wild.

  He slowed and suckled from her lips. She felt raw and swollen, sticky all over, but still needing more. A small protest flew from her when he pulled back. He started to slide off the table, but she clutched at his shoulders, holding him in place. "Hey!"

  "I want you, Mia. In the bed."

  "Later. I'm not finished here."

  "What else is there?"

  "I've barely even painted you. I made a new blood-orange-flavored paint, and melted all these chocolates. There's an almond ganache and a cherry chocolate to taste-test and I need to see how much skin shows through the white choc—"

  "Later," he repeated. "We can do all that later."

  "You won't! Not after you've had your way—"

  His eyes pinned her. "Babe, promise me free access to your sweet body and I'll do anything you want."

  She blinked. Okay, that sounded pretty damn good, but she didn't like the sense of being railroaded. "Wait a minute. I'm not bartering—"

  "Me neither." He pushed off the table, put his hands around her waist and lifted her st
raight off her feet. Maybe if he'd carried her in his arms, she would have laughed and went with it, but instead she found herself slung ignominiously over his shoulder.

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise. He was carrying her to bed like a caveman and—oooh, dammit—she liked it! Her stomach clenched, but so did her sex. Already she was running with moisture.

  "Julian, please." She squirmed her belly against the rock of his shoulder, elevating herself by using his shoulder blades for leverage. "Put me down."

  "As soon as I get you to the bed," he said easily, shifting the balance of her weight so she dipped farther over his shoulder. The floor tilted at her and she kicked, protesting with a screech garbled by laughter.

  "I'm not kidding!" she howled.

  He slapped her bottom. Hard.

  She yelped, her body jerking to a shocked stop. "Julian!"

  The bastard laughed. And spanked her again before throwing her down on the bed. He'd climbed on top of her before she could gather herself together. He pushed down with his arms, making the mattress rock, then pressed his face against her breasts. "This is more like it. Soft and bouncy."

  She could not stop giggling. "But you hit me!"

  "A couple of spanks. You're not hurt." He pushed her tank top up over her head, keeping it tangled around her wrists so that he could hold her down with only one hand. The other went to her breasts, taking a greedy hold and pushing her nipple higher toward his mouth.

  She closed her eyes and moaned at the tantalizing pull of his lips and tongue. Oh yes. That was what she'd been wanting. To feed him. To please him.

  "I'm not hurt," she whispered. Only amazed by how easily he could put her outside of her very wide comfort zone.

  Her butt stung a little, but most of the damage was to her pride. She was supposed to be running this show, but he'd taken control. And she really couldn't protest with any vehemence, not when laughter was rising out of her like champagne bubbles and he only had to touch between her legs to feel how wet he'd made her.

  She rocked her hips, pushing against his erection. "But you're still a bossy male. I'm gonna get you back format."

  He lifted his head to smile with a flash of white teeth. "I look forward to it." She wanted him back at her breast, but he was busy sliding his hand between her thighs to urge them wider. "Come on, kitten. Open up. Let me stroke you."

  "Now you ask." She strained against him, struggling with her own desires more than his demands. Was she really and truly ready to take this risk?

  His hand reached into her pants; he nudged the waistband past her hips and discovered that she wore no underwear. "Ahh." His fingers threaded through the tidy patch of curly hair, stroking deliciously as he parted her swollen folds and delved inside. She was almost embarrassed by her copious moisture, but the look on his face belonged to a man who'd found paradise.

  She took advantage of his preoccupation and heaved her body off the bed, gripping his shoulders and rolling him sideways. There was an instant when he resisted, but then he gave in and let her climb astride him.

  "I like this." She propped her hands on either side of his arms and dragging her tight, aching nipples through the patch of chocolate on his chest. "War paint," she said, getting it on her face as she scraped the sweet stuff off his lean muscles. She nipped at him, teasing his nipples now that she knew he liked that. Her hips swayed, grinding her against his rigid shaft.

  Reluctantly, she lifted herself a few inches to tug at his boxers. "Come on, tiger. Open up. Show me what you've got."

  "All for you." He ground out the words between his teeth when she'd freed him. He was incredibly erect. His penis arched against his stomach, engorged and pulsing, the skin so taut it was almost shiny.

  "The monster," she said, reaching for him. "Lucky me."

  He twisted her off his body, rolling back on top of her. "I like to be on top."

  She'd noticed, but there was not time to say so when she felt herself slipping off the edge of the mattress. She reached for him, gulping a plaintive "Help!"

  Julian dragged her to safety, his long fingers digging into her buttocks. He stripped off her pants, looked at her open sex and smiled. She dropped a hand between her legs, blatantly stroking herself, hoping that he'd lose control and plunge inside her at last.

  "Give me two seconds," he said, and then he was gone.

  "Gah!" Restlessly, Mia threw a couple of the pillows off the bed. She wanted room to spread out and offer herself like a pagan goddess tempting the king.

  Julian came back with a small tub of the edible paint—a deep, luscious bright orange. He used his fingers to apply it to her mound and then went deeper, gently probing inside her until she was thoroughly painted with the sweet goop. "Now," he said, lowering himself between her legs after he'd set the paint on the floor, "I will taste you."

  His face disappeared between her thighs. But he didn't lick her yet—he put his big hand over her and held her firmly. Her head rolled against the flat of the bed, senseless with a surging desire. It was as if she really were an orange and he'd squeezed the juices from her succulent flesh, sending them coursing through the rest of her body in a sweet syrupy surge of pleasure.

  His mouth covered her with a wet warmth. For minutes, he licked inside her, teasing, suckling, before finally running his tongue higher to flick the hard pearl of her most sensitive nerve endings. He lapped her there, using just the right pressure as she ground against his mouth. Such an intense sensation shot through that she let out a little scream and reflexively clamped her thighs around his head, coming fast and hard in a cataclysmic rush.

  He pried her legs open, lifting himself up so she could see his panting face. His mouth was shiny with her liquid and his eyes were glossed over. Ridden with the unending climax, she bucked and twisted, trying to close her bent legs to contain the insane ecstasy. Agony. Ecstasy…

  "Give me your hands." He took them and placed them around her ankles where her feet were tucked up near her quivering bottom. While she held herself open, he was free to cup her ass in both hands and lift her higher toward his mouth. She arched off the bed when he sucked her clit between his teeth, strumming it with his tongue until she was coming again in glorious waves that ran through her with more force than she'd believed possible.

  When it was over, Mia went limp. Utterly exhausted, her limbs flopped every which way.

  "You're incredible," Julian murmured, shimmying up beside her.

  Lazily, she patted his back, lingering over the satin slickness of his perspiring skin. "How did I taste?"

  "Like the sweetest sin."

  She smiled. "I do feel sinful." One of her legs nudged between his. For a moment, his hot erection pressed against her thigh, until she shifted, raising her leg to let him slide along her swollen labia, burrowing into the warmth and moisture as she closed her thighs around him. "Where's that paint? I want to try."

  "Believe me, I'd love it, but you can do that later. Right now I want to be inside you."

  He made no move except to wince a little when she squeezed closer, keeping his erection trapped. "When you're ready," he added, languidly caressing her hip despite the tension in his voice.

  A light, tingling shiver ran through Mia. He was thoughtful and kind and so sexy that she'd always be ready. Always.

  They kissed, tangling their tongues. A warm, loving moment. She tasted her own pungency, mixed with the sharp sweetness of the blood-orange paint. Soon her hips began to rock in a slow sensuous rhythm.

  "I think I'm ready." Understatement of the millennium. She was hollow and achy, hungering to have him filling her to the brim.

  "Do you have a condom handy?"

  "In the nightstand." A rickety wooden piece, salvaged off the street. The drawer stuck when he opened it. "You didn't bring any?"

  He waved negligently at the other side of the room "They're way over there."

  She flipped from her side onto her back. He moved between her legs, holding the condom packet in his mouth as he steered h
is penis to her flowing center. The flared head rubbed in her juices, dipping just slightly inside her before he withdrew and quickly sheathed himself.

  "Ready?" he asked.

  "And willing," she said.

  She drew her knees up and closed her eyes, dying a hundred deaths as she waited for the piercing pleasure to come. She wanted it so bad. So bad. Hard and fast, like her first climax. But he entered her slowly, deliberately. She murmured with surprised approval, coasting on a lovely current of sensation as their first joining grew into a moment she would never forget. She was able to focus on the heavy warmth of his body, the slippery slide of skin against skin, the feel of herself stretching to accept his girth. Her insides seemed to melt, molding to his length as he slowly pushed deeper and deeper until he was in her to the hilt.

  She hugged him to her breasts. "Oh, Julian…"

  He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then reared up, pulling out with an excruciating slowness so that she felt every inch of his ridged shaft. His hands wrapped around her hips, tilting her so when he pushed back inside there was a new friction, a delicious awareness of exactly how deep he was going.

  "Oh. Wow. Julian." Her arms moved across the rumpled bed, searching for something to hold on to. There was nothing. She ran her hands back and forth, back and forth, her body singing with sensation.

  He plunged into her, going harder and faster and deeper. She loved it, opening her eyes to see his face. He was almost ugly, straining toward a powerful climax, the cords on his neck standing out and sweat dripping off his forehead. And yet he was beautiful.

  "Mia," he groaned, locking his gaze with hers.

  "Julian."

  She was riveted. This was more than sex—it was true intimacy. A connection of souls. Something she'd scoff at later when her head was on straight, but right now … ohhh … she loved him. She loved him from her head to her toes, with every breath in her lungs and beat of her heart.

  He drove forward, impaling her as he went rigid as the first hot pulse passed through him, then began to move again with short hard strokes that sent her over the edge. She wrapped him in her arms and legs, tightening inside, milking every drop of pleasure from their spasming bodies.