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“Baby?”
“Yeah?” She looked up at Michael who took a small bite of the strawberry.
“You ready for me to clean you up now?” He gave her a saucy grin.
The chocolate had cooled. What her flesh needed now was Michael’s warm lips. “Oh, yes, I’m ready, Michael.”
“Mmm, me too.” He lowered his head and swirled his tongue around one nipple, licking the chocolate from her puckered skin. “Delicious.” He snickered. “And the chocolate’s not bad either.”
Her cheeks warmed. His tongue was smooth compared to the dimpled fruit of the strawberry. And warm, oh so warm. Despite its warmth, shivers coursed through her. Her clit throbbed. Damn, why hadn’t he painted her down there? Painted the lips of her pussy, the crease between her ass cheeks? Oh, to feel his slippery tongue there…
Her nipples hardened as he cleaned the other one and headed downward to the trails of chocolate that had dripped over her breasts and belly. His cock jutted outward. God, was it even larger than before? Large and beautiful and just waiting for…
“Michael…”
“What, beautiful?”
“Is there…more chocolate?”
“Of course, there’s plenty. Your sandwich is here too.”
Sandwich? Right, she’d been famished. She still was…though not for food at the moment. What she wanted now was one giant chocolate-covered cock.
She glanced over at the table where the food sat. A small silver bowl held the chocolate, surrounded by the strawberries in a larger bowl. She grabbed several strawberries and picked up the bowl of chocolate.
She turned toward Michael. “Get on the bed,” she said, her voice an octave lower than normal.
He smiled and arched his eyebrows. “What do you have in mind, Stace?”
She winked at him. Winked! Stacy Oppenheimer winked at a man! Stopping the train of thought, she headed to the bathroom for a towel. No use soiling the sheets if the chocolate didn’t stay put.
When she returned, Michael was lying on his back, his cock at attention, his grin saucy and wicked. “Got plans for me?”
“Oh, yes.” She positioned the towel underneath him. “I just love chocolate, don’t you?”
“I’d say I’ve already proved that.”
She stared for a moment, fear threatening to paralyze her. Quickly, she channeled Starr again. She’d come this far, and she couldn’t stop now. The few times she’d given David head had been failures in her mind. He hadn’t said anything bad about it, though he hadn’t said he enjoyed it either. God knew Michael had experience. He’d know she was a novice as soon as she touched her mouth to him.
Starr, I need you! Starr gave great head. All the men she slept with raved about her oral skills. Just pretend you’re licking an ice cream cone, Starr often advised other women. It was a line Stacy had heard in a movie once. It worked for Starr, but Stacy made it work for Starr.
Would it actually work in reality?
No time like the present to find out. She’d have the chocolate to make the illusion even more real.
She knelt between Michael’s muscular legs. Another part of him that was perfectly formed. They could have been sculpted by a Renaissance artist. Dark hair dusted the sinewy flesh. His balls hung under his penis, beckoning to be touched, licked.
“Wow,” she said.
“Wow what?”
“Wow, you are one finely made man, Michael Moretti. But I’m sure you hear that all the time.”
“It’s never sounded sweeter than right now.” He stroked his fingers through her damp hair. “And I mean that.”
A line, of course. But a damned good one. She smiled and twirled the tip of a strawberry in the chocolate. “Such a finely made man should be painted, don’t you think?”
“I’m game for whatever you have in mind, sweetheart.”
