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‘There’s something I want you to do for me.’
Her eyes were cloudy, acquiescent, desire-drugged.
He walked to the kitchen drawers and pulled out the length of black fabric from the second one down, where he’d stashed it earlier.He held it out and it unfolded into a mask.
She looked at him wide-eyed.
He smiled.‘Nothing kinky, honey.But I do have a test for you.’He spoke quickly, not wanting the heat in her face to be replaced by fear or uncertainty.‘You say you have bad taste, that you have terrible judgment.I think you’re wrong.So what if you made a mistake in the past?I think you need to trust your instincts more.So I have a selection here of fake and of genuine.Fake maple syrup and the real thing, pure virgin olive oil and the chemical crap they mislabel, genuine French champagne and synthetic bubbles.See where I’m going with this?’
‘This is like some game at a kid’s party.’
‘Right.The blind taste test.Maybe your judgment will be better when you can’t see.Interesting idea, don’t you think?’
Her lips twitched and he relaxed, pulling out one of the kitchen stools, which she immediately hopped on.He set out the items on the bench in front of her.A small smile played on her mouth—she was buying in now, well and truly.
‘Close your eyes.’This time he didn’t need to tell her twice.
Her lids fluttered shut and he suppressed the flare of satisfaction at the sight of her quick and quiet acquiescence.He placed the silk band over her eyes and tied it at the back.Without her eyes on him he was able to study her freely.The need for her was intense and the need to know she wanted him as badly was even more intense.
‘Let’s start with the champagne.’
Her breathing had accelerated, just a fraction, but he was so attuned to her he picked it up right away.Faster and shorter.He poured a small amount from each bottle into two glasses, then held them in turn to her lips, watching as she drank.
‘Which is it, the first or the second?’He set the glasses down as she deliberated.
‘The first.’
‘Right first time.’
The smile on her lips deepened.
‘Now the oil.I’ll dip a little bread in some, okay?’
He stood close, fascinated, as her mouth took each morsel in, her tongue appearing out for a tantalising time to lick the crumb from her lips.
‘The second.’
‘Correct,’ he muttered.
‘And now the syrup.’He poured some straight from the bottle onto his index finger and held it up to her lips.Stroked their softness just a little, to tease her.‘Suck it off.’
He waited, tormented, as the colour tinged her cheeks.And then her mouth opened and she took him in.Her tongue swirled around his finger and then she gripped and he nearly groaned, the gentle tugging of her mouth an erotic experience unlike any other.He didn’t want to pull out.But he did, replacing it with the other finger, the other syrup, and he no longer cared about anything but how soon he could get the rest of him into her like this.Hot and wet and just how he wanted her.
‘Which is it?’he whispered hoarsely.
She shook her head a little.‘I’m not sure.I think I need to try them again.’
Minx.
He did groan then, half delight, half amusement, wholly desire.‘I think we should skip it and move on.’
‘There’s more?’
‘A lot more.’He paused, only a second longer.‘What about this, Cally?Is this genuine?’
And he pressed his mouth to hers, tasted the last of the sweet, sticky syrup.And then it was just her and she tasted divine.
‘Does this feel real to you, Cally?’
