Chocolate Kisses

by Francis Ray

  She tilted her hips forward, easing off the counter’s edge until he supported her, her supple legs wrapped around his back. He placed his hands around her bottom and thrust forward at the same time he pulled her hips toward him. They met with one hard grind.

  Nicole’s body shook as he thrust into her hard and fast, pumping in long, languorous strokes, grinding his hips against hers so his pubic hair massaged her clit. Then he quickened, slamming into her in a series of powerful thrusts, his fingers working her breast.

  Damn, but he was close . . . too close to slow down. Knowing Nicole wouldn’t reach climax as quickly as he was fast approaching, he slipped his hand from her sassy dark nipple, down between them, and found her clit with his thumb.

  “Oh,” Nicole sighed, a combination of a jagged pant and pure pleasure. Her back arched, the peaks of her breasts stood upright, and her hand splayed out behind her on the counter, scattering the Kisses and nudging her wineglass with enough force to tip it over. White zinfandel splashed on the counter before dripping to the floor.

  The scent of chocolate, sweat, wine, and sex permeated the air, a combination so heady it flashed through Nicole’s senses like a shot of hard whiskey. Her mind buzzed in anticipation of the crest of climax. Heat scattered across her skin like dry leaves taking to the wind; gooseflesh followed. A soul-deep throb tightened within her core, touched only by the powerful length of Marcus’s dark cock. His thumb worked the pearl of flesh that unleashed the sexual need within her.

  He came into her one last time, the weight of his body making a firm seal of joined bodies.

  “Ahh—Nicole,” he growled, breathing heavy with his shoulders bunched.

  She felt the convulsions of his body as his cum filled the latex tip of the condom. With Marcus throbbing deep within her, one twist of his fingers sent her soaring over the edge. Liquid heat seeped from her body as each of her muscles clamped down, then released, leaving her shaking with the force of ecstasy.

  Marcus wrapped his arms around her, drawing her back to his chest and hugging her tightly, their bodies still one—neither in a hurry to separate. Keith Sweat’s deep voice swathed them, acting as a shield from the world.

  Marcus smoothed his palm down her back and up again, enjoying the contrast of the cool silk and the warmth of her soft skin. He turned his face into the curve of her throat and pressed a kiss to her neck, still shocked about what had just transpired between them. His Nicole, his friend, sheathed him and fit him like a tight glove designed for him and him alone.

  Hell, he had taken her like a man crazed, dying of thirst, and she a fresh sip of water. He had meant to go slow, to bathe her with affection, to love her tenderly, as she deserved to be loved. But instead he’d claimed her in the kitchen, supported only by the edge of the counter and the strength of his erection.

  Easing away from her, he framed her beautiful face with his hands, his fingers spreading out into her curls. He gazed into her eyes, the rich color of milk chocolate, her lips swollen and bruised from the intensity of his kisses. “Are you all right, Nic?” he asked, his tone husky. He wanted them to be okay, for their friendship to remain intact.

  “Yeah, I am.” She turned her face into his palm and pressed a light kiss to his skin. “Thank you, Marcus.”

  “You’re thanking me? Damn, Nic, I didn’t intend to be so fast. What kind of man claims a woman standing in the kitchen?” He shook his head in disgust. A shiver of apprehension spread across his skin. Could he have just ruined everything between them?

  “The kind I like,” she replied in a light tone, laughter bubbling in her voice.

  Her laughter offered him a fragment of relief. “Next time, Nicole, I’m going to take my time. Next time I’m going to savor you.”

  “Is there going to be a next time?”

  Marcus paused. Was there going to be a next time? He knew Nicole desired it. He sure as hell did. Sexing Nicole had exceeded his wildest dreams. He knew he couldn’t resist exploring the possibilities of their sexual relationship before he moved across the country. Tamping down uncertainty, he teased, “We’ll see. We shall see.”

  Marcus eased from her body, wrapped the condom in a paper towel, and shrugged his pants back over his hips. In the past there’d been a moment of awkwardness when finished with a lover, but not now. Not with Nicole.

  They righted their clothing in comfortable silence, doused the candles burning in the bedroom before they caught the house on fire, then curled up on the couch and watched one of the movies he’d brought.

  Nicole rested her cheek against his arm, still amazed. She’d guessed sex with Marcus would be great; she just hadn’t figured it would be wonderful, or that her soul would be as soothed and as sated as her body. But there was a nagging fear he’d been right—sex just for sex might not be what she really wanted. Maybe she wanted Marcus after all. Don’t be ridiculous; he’s moving.

  Relaxed against him, Nicole thought about all the changes that would occur when he left. Maybe she needed a fresh start too. She had been thinking about putting her house on the market. Her place was small, and now that she was a junior partner she could afford a bigger place—the house she’d always wanted.

  When Nicole yawned, Marcus stood and sauntered toward the door. Nicole walked behind him. As usual, he gathered her into a tight hug, holding her a moment longer than on prior nights. Moving away, he opened the door.

  Nicole watched him step over the threshold, feeling a bit sad to see him go. Glancing back, Marcus asked, “Monday morning, right?”

  “Yep. I’ll see you at six A.M.” She smiled, then waved as she bade him good night.

  With one last glance, Marcus descended the stairs and slipped into the shadowy night. A moment later he was gone. Nicole sighed as she closed the door.

  Chapter Three

  NICOLE IS BEAUTIFUL.

  Marcus gaped at her, hoping his appreciation didn’t shine too brightly from his eyes. She stood before him in the open doorway of her home, wearing a white pair of sweat shorts and a pink T-shirt, a small white apron tied around her narrow waist. She looked sexy as hell, while still appearing innocent.

  Biting back a grin, he realized she was a perfect match for the bouquet of flowers he held in his tight-knuckled grip, as soft as the pink tulip petals, as lush as the white calla lilies, and as fresh as the baby’s breath.

  “Hi.” She flashed him a brilliant, welcoming smile, then opened the door a bit wider.

  Marcus watched as her milk-chocolate gaze drifted over him to the flowers he held by his side. He felt as if he were back in high school, and as awkward as a first date. What would she think of flowers? He’d given them to her before on birthdays and on graduation, or when she got a promotion, but he had never shown up at her house two hours early on their usual Saturday movie night, flowers in hand.

  Knowing it was too late to run back to his truck and leave the bouquet hidden there, he lifted the spray of soft shades of pink and white and presented them to Nicole.

  “Hey, Nic. I brought you some flowers to celebrate your firm promoting you to junior partner,” he said, attempting to make the gesture appear casual.

  Her eyes brightened as she reached for the bouquet. “Thanks, Marcus. Come on in. I’ll put these in water,” she said as she drew the flowers to her face and inhaled. Her nose brushed against the stamen, and a dusting of yellow pollen remained on her rich caramel skin.

  Before she could turn in to the shadowed hallway, Marcus stepped into the house and placed his palm against her cheek, immediately realizing how much he’d longed to touch her.

  “You got pollen on your nose,” he remarked, spreading his fingers into her hair and skimming his thumb across her lips, up to her nose, where he slowly brushed away the yellow dust.

  Nicole’s eyes opened wide in surprise, but she quickly recovered. “Thanks.”

  Marcus withdrew his hand, balling his fingers into a fist to keep from reaching for her again. All week long he’d agonized over how to handle his a
ttraction to Nicole. Hell, he’d always been attracted to her, but had never thought to act on it before. Not if it meant risking their friendship. Yet ever since they’d become intimate he could think of little else but getting his hands on that luscious body of hers again.

  He’d worried that things might be strained between them come Monday morning when they met at the gym, but she’d entered the weight room in baggy sweat shorts over a tight catsuit that hugged her fit figure and accentuated the fullness of her breasts. As usual, she gave him a welcoming smile and then beat him to the weight machine. All week their morning workouts had remained as they’d always been.

  Nicole had been right: She was his best friend, and nothing had changed between them despite their having had crazed sex in her kitchen. Now, as he watched her turn away from him, holding the bouquet of flowers, he had the oddest feeling she regretted what had happened and that he’d best forget about it happening again. Maybe it was something about the serious look in her rich, dark eyes.

  As he watched the sensual sway of her hips as she walked before him, his cock became fully erect, held secure behind his button fly. Adjusting his groin as he walked, Marcus followed Nicole into the kitchen, where she bent beneath the sink to retrieve a vase for the flowers.

  Marcus stared at her perfectly round ass sticking up in the air and fought the urge to grab hold of her hips and grind his erection into her. He looked away, the guilt of wanting her eating at him.

  His gaze slid back to her ass. Despite the perfect shape of her butt, Marcus knew it was not the possibility of sex that had him coming around, but a genuine liking for Nicole, and a mutual respect.

  When Nicole shifted, Marcus turned from her before she caught him staring at her like an idiot, saliva dripping from his tongue. The rose-shaped cookie jar where she kept condoms mixed with Kisses captured his attention. Plenty more remained.

  Marcus looked at the counter where he’d taken Nicole, now covered with a cutting board and freshly washed vegetables in a silver colander.

  “I was going to make us dinner,” Nicole said, grinning at him as if she’d caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, when in all actuality it nearly had been.

  “I was thinking we could watch those movies and order a pizza. You don’t have to cook if you don’t want to,” he replied.

  “Okay,” Nicole said. She brushed a stray curl behind her ear as she stashed the veggies back in the fridge, then handed him a beer. “Which movie do you want to watch first?” she asked, putting away the knife and cutting board.

  “You pick.”

  Nicole untied the apron and dropped it onto the counter. “Can you put in Spider-Man 2 while I get something to drink?”

  “Sure.”

  Nicole stood still until she was sure Marcus had gone to the living room and heard him fiddling with the DVD cases. Releasing a sigh of relief, Nicole sagged against the tile counter, feeling a rush of desire. He’d caught her off guard. She’d not expected to find Marcus standing on her doorstep hours early, holding a delicate arrangement of flowers. He looked so good, his strong legs encased in loose denim, and a black Raiders jersey covering his chiseled chest and muscular arms.

  She’d watched him every morning at the gym, trying to decide how he felt about their sexual relationship, fantasizing that he would want to continue it until he moved. After tasting his lips and feeling the solid length of him deep within her, she knew she’d never be satisfied with just one encounter.

  A breath of air rushed from her lungs, just a bit more jagged than normal, lust singing through her veins. Until last week she hadn’t really realized just how badly she missed sex. Sure, she’d often thought about it, but not seriously enough to do it with a stranger. Marcus was a perfect bedmate.

  Taking a deep breath, Nicole lifted the lid to the cookie jar and pulled out a condom packet, shoving it into her pocket before she grabbed a chocolate. She quietly replaced the lid, careful not to let the ceramic tap against itself. Removing the wrapper, she plopped the Kiss into her mouth. She was about to leave the kitchen when she remembered the excuse she’d used to send Marcus from the room and grabbed a soda from the fridge.

  In her cramped living room, Nicole found Marcus sitting almost in the center of the couch, the beer on a side table, and his feet propped up on the ottoman with the remote in his hand. He looked so comfortable, supremely masculine, powerfully dominant—arrogantly male. Seeing him with one elbow resting on the back of the couch and the breadth of his body relaxed into the plush pillows, Nicole knew when she sat down that she’d be forced to touch him.

  Had he planned that when he sat square in the middle? she silently questioned, pleased with the possibility. Deciding to use his hogging the couch to her advantage, Nicole put her soda beside his beer and grabbed a loose pillow.

  “Scoot over,” she said, while swatting the pillow playfully at him. The first shot hit him upside his head and took him off guard.

  Marcus smiled a slow, sexy smile, set the remote aside, and propped his other elbow on the couch back, making his intention of staying put abundantly clear. “Make me,” he challenged.

  Laughing, Nicole swatted the pillow at him again, hitting him on the upper arm. He didn’t move, just watched her dance out of his reach after striking her blow. Laughing, she moved forward and hit him again, then retreated in case he decided to come after her.

  “I’ll make you move.” She giggled, swatting him again with the pillow, each successful strike making her bolder.

  “I’m still here,” he replied, once again challenging Nicole to move him.

  “Not for long.”

  “Mmmm, I am pretty comfy here,” he said, wiggling further into the cushions, leaning his head back as if he were about to go to sleep.

  Nicole pounced, hitting Marcus across his chest again, but when she attempted to flee she found her pillow ensnared in Marcus’s powerful grip. He reeled her in like a fish on a hook. Nicole squealed and giggled, all the while refusing to give up her hold on her end of the pillow. I have to admit, I’m not fighting very hard.

  “You still going to make me?” Marcus asked.

  “Yep,” she responded, laughing and tugging, yet eyeing his lap as a good place to sit.

  Then, with one hard yank, she tumbled forward, landing sprawled across his thighs. The mood went from playful to charged on contact. Nicole froze for a brief moment. Is that a hard-on I feel wedged against my belly?

  Drawing up her knees so she straddled his lap, Nicole sat up and removed the pillow that had landed between their chests.

  “Do you still refuse to move?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

  “I think I’ll stay where I am,” he responded, his tone still playful as he lifted a mocking eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smile.

  “Then I am going to have to torture you,” she said.

  “Oh, yeah? How are you going to do that?”

  “Like this.” Nicole grabbed the hemline of her T-shirt and lifted it, leisurely pulling it up her body, slowly revealing her naked stomach. Her white lace bra was bared next, before she whipped the pink cloth over her head and tossed it to the floor.

  Pressed against her crotch, the hard swell of his cock throbbed with lust. Grinding her hips, she elicited a throaty groan from Marcus.

  “Damn, girl, you’re gorgeous,” he said, his arms leaving the back of the couch as he reached for her breasts.

  Before his fingers made contact with the lace of her bra, Nicole grabbed his hands and pushed them back. “Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head from side to side. “No touching. I am torturing you, remember?”

  “Do your worst then, Nic. I’m waiting,” he said, again taunting her. He replaced his elbows on the back of the couch, his hands dangling down across the throw pillows.

  Nicole swayed her shoulders to an imaginary tune, running her palms over her own body, cupping her breasts in her hands, feeling the fine texture of her lace bra and the weight of her breasts straining against it. She smo
othed her thumb over her nipple, feeling it grow taut. His erection pressed through denim and sweats to rub against her clit as she danced to the musical beat of her own desire.

  She felt moisture soak her shorts, reaffirming her decision not to wear the matching white panties, then the answering throb of want deep within her. She moaned, her inner thighs gripping his jeans-swathed body.

  “Will you move now?” she purred.

  Marcus’s only answer was a movement of his head that made his denial clear.

  “Well, then . . .” Nicole put her hand to her mouth, smoothing her thumb across her lower lip. Parting them slightly, she used her tongue to dampen the pad of her fingers, taking more time than needed to make sure they were wet. She then replaced her hand to her breast, the lace becoming transparent as it dampened. She plucked at her hard nipple while biting down on her bottom lip to stifle the moan of pleasure bubbling forth.

  Watching the desire darken Marcus’s eyes from twilight to midnight, Nicole flicked the hook holding the front of her bra closed and allowed the flimsy straps to slide over her shoulders and down her arms. With both hands she cupped her breasts, kneading her soft flesh in her palms, stroking her nipples until they peaked, then rolling the tight beads between her thumbs and index fingers.

  Nicole released her breasts when Marcus trembled between her legs. Leaning forward, she slid her hands beneath the smooth mesh material of his jersey and pulled up the shirt, exposing his abdomen, then farther, until his dark, flat nipples came into view.

  Marcus assisted by lifting his arms and shrugging his shoulders. “Kind of you,” she murmured as she lifted the garment from his body and tossed it aside.

  He nodded his reply as he lowered his arms and reached for her, but Nicole slapped his hands away.

  “I said no touching.”

  “Let me touch you, Nic.”

  Nicole smiled at the hint of desperation in his voice, though he did what she told him and replaced his elbows on the couch. To further his torture, she ground her hips into his lap in a tight circular motion, her hips undulating against his jeans-clad erection.