pattern at all. It’s a heating element, and onto it the waiter puts a heavy stone pot—
le caquelon
—filled with partially melted chocolate. Another waiter has a basket of all sorts of dippables, ranging from juicy strawberries to tiny squares of cheesecake. I grin at Damien like a kid in heaven. “Chocolate fondue?”
“I had considered cheese,” he says, after the waiters have slipped out and shut the panel door again. “But this way will ensure that I’m not punished by the withholding of sex.”
I must look confused, because he continues. “Alaine imports the chocolate from the Swiss subsidiary I mentioned earlier.”
“Really?” I peer into the pot. “I already know you’re delicious. I suppose your chocolate will be, too.”
As if to prove the point, I reach for a strawberry, but he gently smacks my hand. “No, no,” he says.
I stare at him. “Um, hello?
Chocolate
.”
He laughs. “Close your eyes.”
I narrow them but don’t close them.
“Disobedience, Ms. Fairchild? You do live dangerously …”
I smirk, but I also close my eyes. After a moment, I feel something soft brush my cheek, then cover my eyes. A napkin or a handkerchief? I’m not sure, but whatever it is, Damien is using it as a blindfold.
“What—” But my question is stalled by his finger on my lips.
“I made you a promise, Ms. Fairchild.”
I nod, my nipples tightening and my sex clenching as I recall Damien’s words. “You’re going to make me come.”
“That, too,” he says, and I can hear the laughter in his voice. “I also said I was going to feed you. Conveniently, I think the two may go together very well.”
For a moment, I feel nothing. Then the cord that is still between my legs tightens as Damien tugs gently at it from behind. I gasp, and when I do, something cold brushes my lips. “Open for me,” Damien says, and I do. He brushes the mystery item over my lips again. It’s soft and rough at the same time, and though I try to catch a scent, the heady smell of chocolate in the room is overpowering.
“Now bite,” he says, and when I do, I moan with pleasure as the sweet strawberry bursts in my mouth. Juice dribbles down my chin, and then there is Damien, the tip of his tongue stroking up, dipping into the corner of my mouth, tasting the juice that escaped and teasing me mercilessly in the process.
“I thought you weren’t going to touch me,” I say, turning my head to try to find his mouth. I want his kiss. I want his touch.
“Holding me to my promise, after all?” he asks as he once again tugs at the cord. I whimper, my hips shifting on the seat. I can feel how wet I am, how slippery the cord is. It’s so close to my clit, but not quite there, and I’m craving that sweet, specific attention.
“No,” I breathe. I want to beg him to touch me, promise be damned.
He chuckles. “Ah, but I’m a man of integrity. But let’s agree that I’ll keep to the spirit of my promise and not the letter. Do you want me to gently press my fingertip against your clit? To feel that hard nub beneath my finger? To tease it, stroke it, to play with it until you come?”
“I—”
“Shhh. You don’t speak, Nikki. Not until I say that you can. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Good. Let’s continue to discuss the parameters of my promise. Perhaps you want me to slide my hands between your legs. To spread you wide. To lay you back on this bench and kiss my way up your legs. To breathe in the scent of your sex, and dip my tongue in your sweet folds, more delicious than any chocolate could ever be?”
Yes
, I want to say.
Oh, yes, please
.
“Maybe you just want me to fuck you.”
I whimper, but Damien ignores the sound.
“To all of those possibilities, Ms. Fairchild, I am saying no. I promised I wouldn’t touch you, and I won’t. I won’t touch your sex, at any rate. As for the rest of you—well, perhaps we shall make one or two small exceptions. Nod if you understand.”
I nod.
“Good
le caquelon
—filled with partially melted chocolate. Another waiter has a basket of all sorts of dippables, ranging from juicy strawberries to tiny squares of cheesecake. I grin at Damien like a kid in heaven. “Chocolate fondue?”
“I had considered cheese,” he says, after the waiters have slipped out and shut the panel door again. “But this way will ensure that I’m not punished by the withholding of sex.”
I must look confused, because he continues. “Alaine imports the chocolate from the Swiss subsidiary I mentioned earlier.”
“Really?” I peer into the pot. “I already know you’re delicious. I suppose your chocolate will be, too.”
As if to prove the point, I reach for a strawberry, but he gently smacks my hand. “No, no,” he says.
I stare at him. “Um, hello?
Chocolate
.”
He laughs. “Close your eyes.”
I narrow them but don’t close them.
“Disobedience, Ms. Fairchild? You do live dangerously …”
I smirk, but I also close my eyes. After a moment, I feel something soft brush my cheek, then cover my eyes. A napkin or a handkerchief? I’m not sure, but whatever it is, Damien is using it as a blindfold.
“What—” But my question is stalled by his finger on my lips.
“I made you a promise, Ms. Fairchild.”
I nod, my nipples tightening and my sex clenching as I recall Damien’s words. “You’re going to make me come.”
“That, too,” he says, and I can hear the laughter in his voice. “I also said I was going to feed you. Conveniently, I think the two may go together very well.”
For a moment, I feel nothing. Then the cord that is still between my legs tightens as Damien tugs gently at it from behind. I gasp, and when I do, something cold brushes my lips. “Open for me,” Damien says, and I do. He brushes the mystery item over my lips again. It’s soft and rough at the same time, and though I try to catch a scent, the heady smell of chocolate in the room is overpowering.
“Now bite,” he says, and when I do, I moan with pleasure as the sweet strawberry bursts in my mouth. Juice dribbles down my chin, and then there is Damien, the tip of his tongue stroking up, dipping into the corner of my mouth, tasting the juice that escaped and teasing me mercilessly in the process.
“I thought you weren’t going to touch me,” I say, turning my head to try to find his mouth. I want his kiss. I want his touch.
“Holding me to my promise, after all?” he asks as he once again tugs at the cord. I whimper, my hips shifting on the seat. I can feel how wet I am, how slippery the cord is. It’s so close to my clit, but not quite there, and I’m craving that sweet, specific attention.
“No,” I breathe. I want to beg him to touch me, promise be damned.
He chuckles. “Ah, but I’m a man of integrity. But let’s agree that I’ll keep to the spirit of my promise and not the letter. Do you want me to gently press my fingertip against your clit? To feel that hard nub beneath my finger? To tease it, stroke it, to play with it until you come?”
“I—”
“Shhh. You don’t speak, Nikki. Not until I say that you can. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Good. Let’s continue to discuss the parameters of my promise. Perhaps you want me to slide my hands between your legs. To spread you wide. To lay you back on this bench and kiss my way up your legs. To breathe in the scent of your sex, and dip my tongue in your sweet folds, more delicious than any chocolate could ever be?”
Yes
, I want to say.
Oh, yes, please
.
“Maybe you just want me to fuck you.”
I whimper, but Damien ignores the sound.
“To all of those possibilities, Ms. Fairchild, I am saying no. I promised I wouldn’t touch you, and I won’t. I won’t touch your sex, at any rate. As for the rest of you—well, perhaps we shall make one or two small exceptions. Nod if you understand.”
I nod.
“Good
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