What had been their names? Mildred, Mary and Anna.
He pursed his lips and shook his head, a clear sign of his refusal to discuss the obviously painful subject any further.
Charlie pushed forward. “Gary cheated on me. Divorce was better than killing him.”
The judge tipped back his hat and stared at her without blinking.
She barrelled on. “I mean, he was sleeping with another woman. How do you think I felt?” Her admission definitely wasn’t helping her cause with the judge. She wanted sex, not an opportunity to spill her guts in an impromptu counselling session. “You know who Gary ran off with? His twenty-one year old secretary.”
Edgar seized her wrist and forced her to step closer. His magnetic presence overwhelmed her, and her juices wet her thin panties.
“It’s just the two of us,” he told her, his voice gravelly and sexy. “There’s no one else here. Very often, when beginning a new relationship, it’s best to forget the old ones and bury them in the same manner we bury the dead.”
She swallowed hard. “I couldn’t agree more.” Trying not to remember was the hardest thing in the world.
“You say that to my face, but why are you holding onto the past? What good does it do?”
So he saw through her. There wasn’t much she could hide from him, except the fact that she wanted sex with him. Why didn’t Edgar comprehend that?
“I don’t know,” she admitted softly.
His fingers were warm against her pulse. Could he hear her heart drumming like a rock-band drummer gone wild?
His tender smile touched her in a spot she hadn’t allowed anyone except her daughters to reach for a long time. Then the meaning of his words clicked.
“Beginning a new relationship?” she asked, her voice so quiet she barely heard herself. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
Edgar drew her onto his lap. Reluctantly, her nerves tangling in her throat, she settled there. His throbbing erection pressed against the outside of her thigh. He might answer her question with another question, but she knew the truth. Edgar might talk about starting a relationship, but he longed for more. He wanted sex.
Edgar repressed a sigh. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Charlie to sit in his lap before this rather than resorting to ruses she must have easily seen through? Her eyes were heavy-lidded and slumberous, and her glossy lips were slightly parted.
He heard her half-heartedly repeat of his question about starting a new relationship through a murky fog.
“Yes, beginning a new relationship,” he muttered, which was foolhardy and the stupidest idea he’d ever thought of. Just to get into bed with a woman who’d intrigued him since the day he’d first met her, not because of her breasts—
Oh hell, he’d be lying to himself if he said otherwise. He’d dreamed of uncovering those soft globes, one by one, and staring at them until his eyes fell out.
“It’s my breasts, isn’t it?” she murmured, reaching up to his shoulder then the side of his neck with the gentlest of caresses. She tipped his hat backward even further. Many men confused wanting a relationship with wanting sex with a woman with big breasts.
“Not exactly,” he lied, kicking himself mentally for not admitting to the truth. ‘I swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth’ had been instilled in him since he was a child at his father’s knees, but when you want sex as badly as he did, the truth sucked.
Charlie leant forward and gave him a brazen, sexy look. “Really. Edgar Hanks, you’re as bad a liar as my ex.” Like a feather descending on him, she pressed her soft lips to his mouth.
His brain ceased to function properly. Charlie was kissing him, trailing her finger into his shirt at the throat then around to the back of his neck in a wicked, sensuous play of female against male skin. All he saw as she angled forward was the shape of her tantalising, big breasts.
“Can you unbutton your shirt for me?” he croaked, realising he was sounding like a man being teased by a lap dancer.
“Now, how did I figure you’d want me to do that? To unbutton this shirt and reveal my bra so you can see the lacy piece of fabric that covers my tits, to rub my still-clothed breasts against your face, and hear your ragged gasps of pleasure? How did I know that?”
Edgar shrugged, bent his head and took her puckered nipple into his mouth, shirt and all. His breathing was shallow and reedy, and he was about to come in his pants. In his mind’s eye, he saw the pre-cum leaving a circle of moisture against his dark blue briefs.
Who was moaning as if the world was about to end? Oh God, but it was coming from his lips. Charlie stroked the back of his neck and raised her hand to rake gently through the hairs on his head.
“Oh Charlie,” he moaned. Man, he was in bad shape. He couldn’t see a thing except for her luscious, large breasts.
When he tipped back his head, he saw he’d left a moist circle of wet cotton against her nipple. He lifted his hand and, gingerly, as if she were a diva, rolled the tight peak against his thumb and forefinger.
“You want me to tell you a little about how I feel?” Her voice was soft as a light breeze. She placed the flat of her hand on his chest and languorously caressed him through his shirt. “You were fixated on my breasts, and I was wondering what it would be like to touch your hard cock. To take it in my hand and ever so gently, squeeze the cap until a drop of moisture seeps out. I’d like to bend my head and lick you right there.”
He groaned and shifted in the seat, trying not to imagine her words becoming real. But he failed badly. None of his wives had turned him on like Charlie did right now, cranking up the heat in his groin to an unbearable, million degree temperature he was sure would leave him burned and helpless, a victim of spontaneous combustion.
“I want that,” he croaked again. “I want everything you have to give me.”
“Oh baby, I’ve got what you want. And more.” She chuckled, leaving him wondering what more she had in store for him.
“Oh yeah,” he said, hardly daring to breathe in case this fantasy ended, and he awakened to find it was nothing more than a wet dream. His imagination ran rampant. In a hot shower, he’d run a soapy washcloth down every tender inch of her skin, every slope, every crevice. Then he’d take her to bed and do her doggy style while he held her breasts. He’d make love to her all night, enjoying each part of her until neither could take any more sex…
“You like chocolate and whipped cream?”
His throat constricted. He might be fifty-five and a half, but he’d only ever heard of chocolate and whipped cream outside of the act of sex. Edgar had never sucked rich chocolate and decadent cream from a woman’s breasts or pussy.
“I love it,” he grunted, hoping he wouldn’t pass out from sheer joy.
“You know where you can put it?” she asked, tracing a searing line down his right cheek to his jaw line.
He almost choked. “No idea.”
Why not on the tips of her breasts with his mouth pressing to the white foam and the peaked nipple? With a dab of chocolate melting and trickling down her warm skin?
“I’d take these pants,” Her hand shifted to her belt and lower to her crotch. His eyes followed in fascination, “and panties off. They’re thin, and silky and very, very wet.”
“What colour?” What kind of stupid question was that? Edgar was a visual man and white, and black, and red panties really turned him on.
“White as the driven snow,” Charlie purred. “So what I’d do with the chocolate and whipped cream is open my thighs wide, just for you, and spray the cream onto my pussy.”
Edgar forgot to breathe, his vivid imagination going wild as he used his mind’s eye to glimpse the whipped cream dabbed in between the luscious, wet crevices of her cunt.
She traced a line back to her chest and rested an index finger on the damp spot on her shirt over her nipple. “Then I’d squeeze warm chocolate on here where it would harden and you could lick and lick until you had your fill.”
All he could think to say
was, “I like chocolate. A lot.” Especially if it was on her areola or on her pussy.
She nodded, her eyelids heavy. “When you’ve had your fill up here,” her finger edged slowly down her front, to her navel, to the belt then to her groin, “you could start enjoying your fill here, with your hot, hot tongue, darting and flicking and enjoying the taste of cream, chocolate and aroused female.”
Yeah, Edgar could see that, too. His throat had gone dry, and his penis throbbed and got impossibly larger.
“Once you finished eating me down here, you’d take of your clothes off and release this big boy. Wouldn’t you like that?” Her hand quivered on his shoulder and his muscles tensed in anticipation.
Unable to find his tongue, he inclined his head. Her voice lured him to a heaven he’d never considered. Her breasts were only one part of her he wanted to enjoy. His ex-wives had never satisfied him sexually. Now he knew why. They hadn’t teased and excited him as Charlie was doing.
“Oh good.” She slid off his lap and got to her feet.
Cool air wafted over his knees. He shivered. Where was she going?
She pressed the laptop’s ‘on’ button, and helplessly, he watched as the screen came to life, just as his erection had.
“Now, Edgar, do you need anything else now that I’ve fixed your computer?” she asked in a silky, smooth voice.
He figured the devil had come out to play with him, tormenting him with the promise of bliss then jerking it away. Flustered and warm under his collar and in his trousers where his madly pulsing cock pressed against the fabric, he shook his head.
“That’s good. See you in court tomorrow.”
And she walked away her tight ass swaying from side to side. One minute, Charlie was there, and the next, she was gone, leaving him to think he’d dreamed up this whole titillating episode.
Chapter Two
Charlie had just gotten her ass fired. Her rubber-soled shoes slapped the marble floor in the empty courtroom then the mostly deserted hallway. A few people passed, giving her a curt greeting, but if they noticed the sexy gleam in her eye, they didn’t mention it. Not that it was their business anyway.
What wicked desire had possessed her to sit in the judge’s lap and talk about what she’d do with chocolate and whipped cream? It was as if the bad girl in her had come out to play and hadn’t known where to stop. Towards the end, Edgar’s eyes had bulged out and he could hardly say a word. Yep, she’d either titillated him or angered him to the point he couldn’t speak.
Charlie sighed. She might as well start looking for a new job. As a lap dancer maybe, she thought with chagrin, with two grown girls. What would they think of her?
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the back of the stately courthouse as she left the building. She dug in her hip pocket for her car keys as she strode towards her sea-green Kia Spectra.
What on earth had possessed her to almost shag the judge? An embarrassed blush crept up her throat and burned onto her cheeks. As people aged, weren’t they supposed to get wiser? It seemed the older she got, the stupider she got. She drew in a shaky breath of frustration and ran her fingers through the top of her hair. How could she have been so moronic to talk dirty to the judge? A family court judge, too!
Unlocking the car door, she felt the heat of the late summer day beating down on her now that she was out of the shade the courthouse provided. It wasn’t anywhere near the heat ramping up in her body. Despite walking away, her talking kinky sex to the judge, she still wanted nookie. Too bad it wouldn’t be with the judge.
“Charlie!” a male voice shouted from behind her.
Uh-oh. She’d recognise the judge’s gravelly voice anywhere. Most likely, he was coming to tell her she was fired. Maybe once he did, they could discuss whether it was right for an employee to shag her boss or talk sex with him.
Reluctantly, she glanced over her shoulder, fearing the worst. Edgar hurried towards her, his briefcase in one hand. His expression was as unreadable as he kept it in court.
He wasn’t even out of breath when he reached her, but his usually neatly combed hair stood at odd angles around his ears, which meant he’d been thinking and running his hands over his head. She caught the scent of Old Spice aftershave.
“Charlie,” he said, coming to a halt beside her.
She waited for him to tell her she’d been canned. He pursed his lips and blinked several times before he rushed out the words, “Have dinner with me tonight.”
Relief flooded through her. “That’s all you want?” she asked, surprised. “You’re not going to fire me?”
His right brow arched. “Why would I want to do that?” His tone was bewildered.
Charlie noted he held his briefcase with white-knuckled fingers.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied flippantly. “Maybe because I talked to you the way I did in your chambers.” Her heart tattooed in her chest. She could think of quite a few ways to have dinner with him, but none of them included sitting at a table. Perhaps the kitchen counter or the bed but not the table—at least, not for eating.
He gazed into the distance. “Oh, I get it. You wanted to let off some steam and leave it at that. You were using me.” He pinned her with a gaze that spoke of a world of hurt, of male indignation and old memories he couldn’t shake off.
She reached out, lightly touched his forearm and shook her head. “Didn’t you say this was the beginning of a new relationship?” That’s why she’d fled. She didn’t want to make a commitment then find she’d been used.
His chest rose and fell. Edgar nodded. For the first time since she’d known him, she saw a vulnerable side to him.
“Edgar,” she began, intending to tell him she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, that he deserved better.
He interrupted. “Forget the part about a new relationship.” His gaze swivelled away to the running fountain at the medical building across the street. “I just want sex.”
Edgar didn’t know what had possessed him to say that. Sure, he wanted sex but he also wanted to do the honourable thing. Just as he’d taught his son, who was now in his early thirties, to do. Treat a woman right and date her exclusively and life would eat out of your hand.
He watched Charlie shuffle from one foot to the other. Was she having second thoughts about chocolate and whipped cream? He broke out in a heavy sweat. He imagined the chocolate melting on her nipple and trickling down the slope of her breast. He’d drizzle more chocolate on her stomach, down to her navel and into her pubic curls, his tongue lapping up every inch, caressing her warm skin.
“Charlie?” he prompted in a much too breathless voice. The crotch of his pants tightened just thinking about Charlie, chocolate, nipples, bare pussy and whipped cream.
She said nothing as he leaned his hip against the sun-heated car. Blood roared through his veins at the possibility she might not want to have sex with him, that she might already be involved with someone else or that she wouldn’t want to have dinner with him. Maybe she already had plans for the evening with one of her daughters. Or to watch a sex-filled movie. Or with another guy. Red-hot jealousy flared up. It wasn’t his business if she was with another guy, he told himself.
Right, Ed, right.
“That’d be okay. I mean the dinner part.” Her chest heaved up and down.
He couldn’t help looking and admiring the size.
“But I thought you wanted sex,” she continued
He coughed. “Right, sex. After dinner. That is, if you’re free tonight.” His brain refused to think logically. “If you’re not seeing anyone,” he finished lamely.
“Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I can’t see myself having dinner with one guy while bonking a completely different one.” Her tongue darted out and moistened her lower lip.
“I’m old-fashioned, too,” he murmured reassuringly. Talk about Edgar Hanks being in bad shape. Could he persuade Charlie to have sex first and dinner later?
“My daughters tell me I live in a world quite
different from theirs,” she confided, setting her hand lightly on his forearm. “Too concerned about morals instead of just having fun.”
“My son says pretty much the same thing.” Why had she put her palm there? For comfort? He set his free hand over hers in a friendly gesture although he desperately craved more. And he also realised Charlie was his friend, not for what she could get from him, but for who he really was.
Chapter Three
Dinner with the judge had been a special affair for Charlie. She’d eaten to her heart’s content of the filet mignon and had drunk the chilled red wine with an abandon she hadn’t felt in a long time. She’d concluded that Gary’s trudging off with a younger woman had soured her on guys.
The judge, however, was a different story. He was a familiar face and body, someone she’d associated with most every day for the last two years. How could she not get attached to him?
The conversation had been far from boring while they’d played footsies under the table as if they were hormone driven teenagers. They’d discussed the political climate, their likes and dislikes, their grown children and touched on almost every important subject, except one. Neither had mentioned their ex spouses.
Charlie set her long-stemmed, crystal glass on the table. The meal was over. What would they do now?
Edgar was handsome in his formal attire of black jacket and tie, white shirt, and black trousers. “Dinner was fantastic with the best company a man could possibly imagine.”
Charlie inclined her head but didn’t believe him for a second. More than likely, Edgar was intent on the relationship thing and wanted to get to know her better. At their age, neither took the act of sex lightly so he probably wanted to make certain he was sleeping with the right woman before he did.
She didn’t need her bullshit radar to know she was making the right choice. He was handsome, charming and a stimulating conversationalist—if she was searching for a husband, which she absolutely was not. Or was she? She was tired of going home after work to a lonely house. Celeste and Marly usually didn’t get home until after midnight, and by that time, Charlie was fast asleep.
Chocolate Temptation Page 2
