Seven Deadly Sins

by K D Grace

  Silence tugged at them, before Ali said simply, “It’s Chief Smithson to you now, Captain Jacobs.”

  Ali turned on her heel and left the squad room feeling a mixture of pride, glory, and elation. But Captain Jacobs had been right — a deep sadness seemed to bubble somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

  “You feel it don’t you?”

  She spun around to see a grade two detective standing before her, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed at his chest. Her breath caught in her throat, he looked so different in his uniform.

  “Abaddon,” she breathed softly.

  “Detective Mac Riley, “ he said, extending his hand and shaking hers in his firm grip.

  The formality of the gesture hit her like a ton of bricks. She wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms, to rest her head on the large expanse of his chest as he ran his hands lovingly along her curves as he had done so many times over the last week.

  She nodded and averted her gaze, instantly assuming the persona of Parisa. “Detective Riley, nice to meet you.”

  Gripping her arm as she turned to leave, Riley bent down, his lips at her ear. “You could’ve had it all, Chief — the friendship, the sex, the...the love. If only you hadn’t let the greed grip you, you could’ve been happy.” He dropped her arm and walked towards the elevator, stopping just before he entered. “You could’ve had me.”

  Ali watched with tears in her eyes as Detective Riley disappeared into the elevator, vowing to stop at nothing until she had his love. Aliyah Smithson, Chief of Police, was feeling greedy once more.

  Gluttony

  Glutton to Gourmet

  ♦♦♦♦

  by Victoria Blisse

  “No, thanks, I ate before I came out.”

  I smiled at Janet and she walked off towards the buffet alone. A year ago I would have been the first in line, my paper plate groaning under a pyramid of pork pie, sausage rolls, sandwiches and those little bits of stuff on sticks.

  Not now. I’ve worked damn hard to loose fifty pounds of flab and I sure as hell am not going to put it back on. Even if the sandwiches do look fancy and the cheesecake for dessert appears decadently divine. There’s also one of those chocolate fountains bubbling away, sending out its sinful scent and making my mouth water. But no, I can’t afford the calories. According to my weight loss manager I had hit my target weight. But to me I still had too much curve to say that. My dress size was still considered plus size and I wouldn’t stop until I was thin and gorgeous. So, although I’d been told to up my calorie intake a little and to maintain my weight as it was, I was still pushing to lose more. It was tough. I had to really restrict my intake to get any positive response on my scales.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat when I noticed the hot guy staring at me again. I knew I shouldn’t have worn a dress. I was showing far too much leg and cleavage, I was sure he must have been horrified by the sight of my blobby body. I had a moment of confidence, though. As I fitted comfortably into the red dress I’d had hanging in my wardrobe for years and never worn once because it was just far too small. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw the difference in me. The curves I wanted accentuated and those I hated hidden away. So I went with it, but when I drew the attention of the hottest man in the room I wished I’d gone with one of my bigger items, something that would have protected me from the heat of his stare.

  He’s tall, hard and walks with a self-assured swagger. He strolled in to the party with a stunningly beautiful blonde. She was svelte and sexy and virtually invisible side-on. I assumed she was his girlfriend; she looked right on his arm. He’s the kind of man who attracts beauty — you could see that in his self-assured smile. He wears a suit with ease, the pale lilac shirt below highlighting the gold of his hair and the light, airy sparkle of his eyes. His girlfriend has been gone quite a while and he’d nursed a half drunk pint for a good twenty minutes. I wonder if they’d had a falling out. As I watched him, he downed the last of his drink, stood up and walked towards me. I supposed he was on his way to the buffet table. Then he stopped right by my side.

  “Would you like a drink?” He asked and I stuttered my response.

  “I’m ok, thanks.”

  “But your glass is empty, what were you drinking?”

  “Just diet coke.” I was stunned, so I just told him without thinking twice.

  “Then I shall get you one. Have you tried the buffet yet?”

  “No,” my practised lie rolled off my tongue. “I’ve already eaten.”

  “I’ll bring you a selection of the best bits,” he said. “There’s always room for party food.”

  Before I could get my lips to work he’d gone. What an arrogant man! I was not used to someone completely ignoring my wishes. What was he doing? He didn’t know me from Adam but he was attempting to control my life. No one does that but me.

  He did smell good though, like expensive tea and cakes in a posh hotel, bergamot and lime, chocolate and vanilla. He looked even better close up but I was not going to be swayed by his pale blue eyes or his wide, claspable shoulders. I was not going to wonder how it might feel to pinch his tight buttocks even though they looked firm and muscular and I couldn’t take my eyes off them as he walked away.

  “Where’s your girlfriend?” I asked when he came back and put a plate and glass down before me. I was determined to talk this time and not let him cow me.

  “I don’t have one. Oh, you mean Gloria. No, she’s my sister. “

  “Oh.”

  “So the position is open if you’re interested.” He winked.

  “Yeah, right,” I scoffed indicating all of me with a dismissive wave of my hand. “Because a hot guy like you would love to go out with this.”

  “Go out, stay in, I wouldn’t mind as long as I got to touch and hold you.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, a witty rejoinder was just on the tip of my tongue but words wouldn’t come. I was incapable of thought let alone articulation.

  “But I should at least ask you for your name first. My name is Roman, yes it is stupid, and no I wasn’t conceived in Italy. And you are?”

  “Anabel and I have no witty remarks to help you remember it.”

  “Belle is beauty in French. I’m going to call you Belle.”

  He didn’t ask if it was ok, I normally hated my name being shortened but for some reason I didn’t tell him that. Maybe I liked being called Beautiful.

  “Now, Belle, I’d start with the smoked salmon, it’s delicious.”

  “Pardon?”

  “The food I brought, you should try the salmon.”

  “Oh, no. I’m really not hungry.” I prayed my stomach wouldn’t rumble and give me away.

  “Nonsense, I can see you salivating. You’ve been eying it up all night.”

  “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

  “I get really turned on watching a woman eat and your lips are so plump I know that watching you will be highly pleasurable for me.”

  He’d stumped me again. I am usually well known for my quick wit but with him I struggled to form sentences. Was he really saying it’d turn him on to see me eat?

  I’ll prove it to you.” He grabbed my hand and held it to his chest. “Feel my nipple.”

  “Oh, uh, yes. Nipply.” I stuttered. I wanted to run my hands all over him to follow his linear planes and push them against my curves.

  He laughed, prodded the pink piece of Piscean pleasure and pressed the proffered gift to my lips.

  The smoky scent was strong and filled my senses. The wet fish bumped against my plump lips and my mouth watered in anticipation. I slowly widened my mouth, careful to be demure and lady-like. I was very aware of his heavy gaze focused on my lips and wondered how I could get the morsel off the fork without pornographically sticking out my tongue or salivating all over him. I s
lowly opened my lips and clamped them around the fork before pulling back and delicately chewing. I felt Roman’s nipple harden and heard a gentle moan. He was watching me intently. The warmth of the smoke and the fresh silkiness of the salmon seemed to be enhanced by his pleasure. I chewed and enjoyed my morsel and didn’t think about the calorie content once.

  “See,” he covered my hand with his own. “I am turned on by you eating. Please try something else.”

  “Maybe you were just cold,” I shrugged, a little annoyed by his tone but mostly by the way I wanted to respond to it.

  “Alright, eat something else and I will give you definitive proof that it turns me on.” He slid my hand down over his chest and stomach and rested my palm over his crotch. I gulped. I could feel him inside the confines of his trousers, he was firm and his cock twitched at the pressure of my hand on him.

  “Now eat.”

  I was hypnotized by those eyes. I can’t think of any other reason why I did what he bid and didn’t run away shouting ‘pervert’ at the top of my voice. I picked up a little cracker. It had cheese and some kind of pickle on it. As I pulled it closer to my mouth I picked up the onion and spice of the relish and my stomach rumbled in anticipation. I looked up and realised he was staring at me. I couldn’t pull away from his gaze. I lost myself in him and watched his pupils dilate as I eased the morsel into my mouth. His cock twitched and ballooned at my touch. I chewed. Heavy cheese, mellow and crumbly with the sweet, sour tanginess of the onions. I was euphoric, the food seduced my taste and Roman romanced the rest of me.

  “Proof enough for you?” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear and sending a wave of goose bumps over my skin. I nodded, still finishing the morsel in my mouth.

  “Good, so what are you going to try next?”

  He kept my hand on his crotch as I tried a vol-au-vent with a creamy mushroom centre. He tightened his grip on my wrist when I slipped a breadstick between my lips and slowly sucked off the hummus I’d picked up on it. My eating became a show, I wasn’t worried about calories, I just wanted to make Roman’s dick dance. By the time I finished the last salty olive on my plate he was straining inside his trousers. His erection thick and strong. I was thrilled to know I’d been the one to cause it.

  “Delicious.” I said, licking my lips. I had enjoyed every mouthful. I’d not worried about fat or sugars once. I knew it would be flying straight to my hips but I didn’t care. It was nothing an extra hour at the gym wouldn’t fix. I had been hungry, as much as I’d denied that to myself and it was good to feel the comfortable weight of a light meal inside me.

  “I enjoyed every mouthful.” Roman pulled my hand from his crotch and lifted it to his lips. He gently kissed the back of my fingers making me drop my gaze and giggle. “I can’t wait for dessert.” He finished with a seductive lick of his lips.

  “Oh,” I looked up, eyes wide with panic. “I don’t do desert. No, not at all.”

  I used to regularly have whole meals that consisted of cake and chocolate and all things sweet. It was a strange kind of rebellion when I left home. As a child, I was never allowed a dessert after my meal, not even a piece of fruit. I was too chubby and so my sweet tooth and urge for seconds had to be denied.

  So when I ended up under my own roof and under my own rules I often had chocolate cake for breakfast, muffins for lunch and cheesecake for dinner. It wasn’t big and it wasn’t clever but it made me feel like I was in control and no longer under Mum’s thumb.

  So when I ballooned into a size of dress that took my breath away the sweet treats were the first things to go. It seemed Mum had been right, I had to keep away from all things sweet if I had any hope of becoming a normal sized person. A person who could walk into any shop and find clothing to fit.

  “Oh, come on,” Roman exclaimed. “There’s a chocolate fountain. Everyone loves gooey, melted chocolate.”

  “I don’t have a sweet tooth.” I ducked my head and looked to the floor.

  “Belle, don’t lie.” His tone was stern and it made my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment.

  “Please, Roman. I just can’t. I’m not allowed sweet things.”

  “Are you diabetic?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “But...”

  “Are you allergic to chocolate or dairy?”

  “No, but...”

  “Have you eaten anything sweet in the last few days?”

  “No!” I shouted forcefully, frustrated that he wouldn’t let me finish my sentence. “But I am not allowed sweet things. I am on a diet.”

  “A diet so constricting is not a healthy thing, Belle.”

  “But I am so fat, Roman. I need to lose weight or I will get diabetes and heart disease and have a stroke and die at an early age.” I was flustered. One minute feeling good about myself and feeling hot and horny for a guy who obviously felt the same for me, and the next I was back to feeling fat and frumpy and having a panic attack over chocolate.

  “You are perfect just the way you are.” He gently put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “I know you want to be healthy and that’s a good thing but denial isn’t healthy, guilt isn’t good for you and a little bit of a sweet treat isn’t going to kill you.”

  I could feel tears pricking at my eyes, I fluttered my lashes to hold them back.

  “Look, we’ll go and have some fruit. Fruit is healthy, right? I’m going to dunk mine in a bit of chocolate but if you don’t want to you don’t have to.”

  “Okay,” I conceded. Fruit is healthy, I knew I needed to have it to get my vitamins and minerals and if I could eat a few cubes of pineapple and keep Roman happy without breaking my diet then it’d all be good. And I hoped there was a chance I’d still get laid even though I’d just given him a full showing of my neurotics.

  It is very easy to refuse chocolate when you are nowhere near it but when you can see a silken waterfall of sweet cocoa goodness and smell its molten appeal it becomes much more difficult to resist.

  I was really good, I looked past the marshmallows and the chunks of fudge and I speared a juicy looking strawberry.

  “Good choice.” Roman nodded and pushed his freshly speared mallow into the flow of gooey goodness. “I love strawberries.”

  I watched transfixed as he opened his mouth, held his head back and dropped the chocolate treat inside without spilling a drop. He moaned and masticated and I felt a dampening in my mouth and my knickers. Maybe Roman was on to something — watching someone else eat is sexy.

  “Please, Belle, you’ll make me blush.”

  “Sorry,” I gasped and lowered my gaze to the floor. It was me who blushed from the intense heat that gathered in my cheeks.

  “I was only pulling your leg, beautiful. Do you want some chocolate on your strawberry? It’s a lovely combination.”

  I meant to shake my head, I really did, I promise but my head dipped and lifted and I swear it did it independently of thought. Damn chocolate, it addles my brain.

  “Here,” he grabbed my hand and pulled it towards the fountain. “It’s flowing the thickest just there.”

  I watched in a trance as the bright red of my healthy treat dipped into the glossy brown chocolate until most of it was covered. I didn’t move, Roman dictated what I did and it was his hand that guided mine round until the strawberry butted against my lips.

  “Quickly,” he gasped, hauntingly pale eyes focused on me. “Before it drips.”

  I opened my lips and felt the bulbous fruit push in. Roman watched intently and I imagined it was his cock that I sucked eagerly. The chocolate coated my mouth and throat, reminding me of its decadent comfort that I had neglected for so very long. I was overwhelmed by the blast of familiar creamy sweetness and I moaned, low, soft and deep. Roman bit his lower lip and scrunched his eyes tight closed as if it was all too much for him.

  I chewed through the soft, fruity nugget and enjoyed the fre
sh blast of strawberry juice after the cloying chocolate.

  “Belle, you missed a bit.” Roman pointed down to a point below my chin, before I could look or respond he’d bent his head and lapped up the spillage from my exposed skin, just below my collarbone.

  I held myself stock still; desire shot through my veins, shock mellowed into sexual heat and I didn’t push him away. People were probably watching but I didn’t care.

  “That’s better,” he licked his lips and went back to the chocolate fountain. I didn’t dip anything else, Roman did it all for me. We shared everything. Tart pineapple, softly giving marshmallow.

  I gloried in the sweetness, the decadence and overall his touch. He licked my lips clean, caught drips with his tongue and disappeared into my cleavage to retrieve warm drops I am sure he’d angled to fall there in the first place.

  Then as he finished off a chocolate dunked marshmallow and a stream of the molten goodness slipped down onto his lower lip I kissed it clean, sucking until I could taste chocolate no more.

  Roman kept our lips connected as he held me close and pulled me tighter for our first proper kiss. And what a kiss, chocolate soaked and passionate our lips danced erotically. I forgot where we were and threw my all into my response. When finally we separated, both panting, chests heaving I noticed several people staring.

  “Let’s go.” Roman pulled on my hand and I followed him. I waved to Janet as he dragged me to the door. She smiled and stuck both her thumbs into the air.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Somewhere I can fuck you properly.”

  I’m British, I don’t expect such bluntness, especially not from a man who sounds so proper. I liked it though. I didn’t think, I just responded.

  “My flat is only a few minutes walk away.”

  “Brilliant! Let’s go, Belle.”

  It seemed surreal to be walking along the main road back to my flat with a tall, handsome man on my arm. I had struggled so long with my self-image that I’d barely had time to date. I’d had the odd encounter with guys, managed to stay with one long enough to lose my virginity but not long enough to form a real relationship. I think the final straw came when he told me I was sexy, but had I thought about losing a pound or two?