Smut for Chocoholics Read online

  She gasped and held on tight. Simon filled her to the brim and stroked. Sweat trickled down his temple and glistened on his chest. Each time he thrust up into her, his muscles bunched and swayed.

  Elysa swallowed a gasp and hugged him tighter. Each bump and ridge on his dick caressed her from within. Her back clunked against the wall and his fingers bit into her sore ass.

  “So fucking hot.” His words came out in a staccato tempo in time with his thrusts.

  She breathed through her mouth and whimpered. “Simon.”

  “Right here with you.” His thrusts turned chaotic and he gripped her tighter. “Jesus.”

  Elysa closed her eyes, swept up in the tidal wave of desire and love for Simon.

  “Oh God.” Simon slammed his hips hard into her and his seed coated her womb. Her orgasm crashed within her belly and centred in her pussy. Her juices spilled out around him and she panted. Her arms and legs refused to cooperate.

  “Can’t move.” Her vision fuzzed. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” Simon pulled out and set her on her feet, but kept her close. “That was amazing.” He rested his head on her shoulder. His hair tickled on her skin. “Can’t,” he puffed, “wait to see how the pictures turned out.”

  She pressed her lips together. The pictures. All the words of love, the sexy looks, the sex... was all for naught. He wanted the images for the catalogue. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. She’d been a fool to think he meant anything other than to use her for his own gain. She wriggled from his embrace. “I need some air.”

  Elysa strode away from him and grabbed the robe. She hated hiding from him, but damn it, she needed a moment to think. Simon couldn’t be like the others. Not at all.

  “Where are you going?” His footsteps padded behind her. “El? Wait. Fuck.” Something clunked on the ground, but she didn’t dare look over her shoulder.

  She strode out of the studio, down the hall to the restroom. He wouldn’t follow her there. Head in her hands, she sank down onto the plush couch. The door thumped. “Elysa?” Simon sat opposite on the couch. “You ran away again.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “I forgot my place. This is a job, not a chance for us to have something more.” She shook her head. The words tumbled out faster than she could think them through. “I went into this knowing this was just another modelling job. I figured I wouldn’t see you at all. Then you walked in and my brain switched off. I remembered all the good times we had and fell into those old feelings.”

  “We did have good times.” He handed her a tissue. “Tell me why you left.” He wrapped his arm around her. “I let you push me aside once. I’m not doing it again.”

  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” She elbowed him, but he didn’t budge. “You required me to be nude, fine. You let me do my job. Perfect.” More tears slipped down her cheeks and landed on her robe. “It all went perfectly. Just like I wanted...but not.”

  Simon stroked her hair and rocked her in his arms. He didn’t say anything for a long time. “I get it.” He stopped rocking and tilted her chin to look into his eyes. “When you can keep things at arm’s length, you’re fine. I wanted more and you freaked. Now you’re afraid it’s happening again. I called you in for a photo shoot, but we tumbled into bed like before.”

  Elysa stared into the depths of his green eyes. He knew her down to her soul, every last imperfect part of her. He understood her fears and wasn’t backing down.

  “That’s it completely. We moved too fast and you can’t keep up because you’re scared. Then I brought up the pictures. I sounded like an ass and hurt your feelings. I shouldn’t have.” Simon pulled her into his lap, then wrapped his arms around her again. “What happened?” He wiped the tears from her face. “Let me in. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “We had four dates then you told me you loved me. Two more and you wanted to marry me.” Her voice cracked. “You’re the Casanova of Chocolate, the guy every woman wants to be seen with and the man most guys envy. I’m a second tier model with trust issues. Why in the name of God you picked me, I’ll never know. I run away from trouble because I don’t want to be left again. I thought I could do this. I could pose for you without losing my heart all over again. But it didn’t work. The past is kicking my butt. Again.”

  “Don’t let the past win.” Simon squeezed her to his chest. “Who left you?”

  “Everyone.” She averted her gaze. “I’ve never been enough to make people stick around. First my dad, then my mom. I came to New York because I wanted somewhere to fit in.” She swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. Mascara smeared on her knuckles. “When I met you, I knew I’d fall for you but I got scared because I didn’t want you to abandon me, too.”

  “So you left me first. Get out before your heart gets broken, but the logic didn’t work, did it?”

  “Nope.” She buried her face against his neck and sobbed. All the pent up frustration, rage and fear flowed out of her with the tears. “Nothing I’ve tried has worked to get you out of my system.”

  “It won’t. I’m not them.” He rubbed her back and kissed her head. “I don’t want to be. I’m going to keep loving you, flaws and all. You’re the one I’ve waited for. The one I’ve dreamt of drizzling in chocolate and making love to each night.”

  “Me?” She shoved a tangled lock of hair from her face and leant back in his embrace.

  “Yes,” he tucked the lock behind her ear, “you. I love you, Elysa and I want you to be my partner. Marry me. Make me an honest man.”

  “You’re silly.” She shook her head. They couldn’t marry. Not with all her baggage.

  “And I’m in love with you.” He rubbed his index finger over her bottom lip. “Okay, I admit it. We moved at warp speed before and we’re moving pretty damned fast now. But I know what I want. You. I also know we need time to sort everything out and we will - once we’re done having hot sex. But we’ll do it together.” He grinned. “I can’t get enough of you. I want to know everything - what makes you laugh, cry, scared, your favourite colour and all the gritty history. No holding back.”

  Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he understood her. He wasn’t shying away from her needs and loved her despite her faults. What girl could turn him down? Not her. “You’re right and we will. I’m still scared, but not that you’ll run. I’m afraid I’m in over my head, but I love you, too, so why not be in over my head with you?” She hugged him tighter. “Yes, I’ll marry you. With my entire heart, yes.”

  “Good.” He arranged her astride his lap. His erection tapped her pussy, despite the cloth between their bodies.

  “Simon?” She rocked on his cock, ready to engage in round two.

  “That’s me.” Simon moved her hair off her shoulder and nipped her neck. His breath tickled in her ear and he cupped her jaw with his left hand.

  “How did you know we wouldn’t be interrupted?” She wrapped her arms around him. “Here or in the studio? This is a public bathroom. For all we know, Paolo could’ve come looking for us.”

  “Nah. He’s got his own trouble to deal with,” he said against her throat. “And this floor is my personal space. The rest of the building is open to just about anyone, but this one is all for me. No one gets up here without access.”

  “So that’s why the receptionist shot me that dirty look.”

  “She’ll have to get used to it.” Simon disengaged from her neck and kissed her hard on the lips. “You’re the one I want to drizzle in chocolate and chocolate diamonds.”

  “Drizzle away - but not in the bathroom.”

  “No?” He chuckled, then scooped her into his arms and stood. He carried her down the hall to another door. “Did I mention I’ve got a suite on this floor, too?” Simon nodded to the door. “I’m yours forever. Just open the door.”

&nb
sp; “You got it.”

  Not Just Desserts

  By Lucy Felthouse

  Chapter One

  Hilary left the pub feeling downcast. It was the second time she’d been in that week - dressed to the nines - and still he’d barely noticed her. Aside from cleaning her table when all the waiting-on staff were busy, and saying “Thanks! Good night” as she left, he’d paid her little attention. It was clear that her tight clothes, bold eye contact and wicked smiles were not getting through to him. Despite her best efforts, he still saw her as just another customer. It spoke volumes for his commendable professional attitude, but showed that his sex radar was way off. She’d been making it blatantly obvious she fancied him for months, and yet... nothing.

  Of course, it could just be that he didn’t find her attractive and was therefore ignoring her advances. But on the occasions where they did exchange a few words or a glance, she was sure there was a flicker of interest there. And she wasn’t going to stop until she found out one way or the other. But how could she get - and retain - his attention for long enough?

  The question troubled her over the next few days. There were answers - obvious ones - but they weren’t right for her. She couldn’t give him a note, or leave one on the table, with her phone number on it. That would be supremely embarrassing. Plus there was a chance that it could fall into the wrong hands - she’d noticed the sleazy waiter eyeing her up a few times. She supposed she could ask to speak to the manager - he didn’t wear a name badge, so she didn’t know what his name was - as if to complain about something. But she’d seen people do it before. They had the conversation right there at the table, or across the bar, for everyone to hear. Not in a private place, like his office. There was no way in hell she was going to try and chat him up with people eavesdropping on them.

  Bollocks. What the hell could she do? She’d been checking him out for quite some time now - his firm-looking arse, slim hips, bright blue eyes and smile to die for. He even had dimples - one of her weaknesses. He was seriously sexy. And that was before you even took into consideration his work attire. The rest of the staff wore black trousers and a uniform t-shirt with the pub’s logo emblazoned on it. He too, wore black trousers - which were not so tight as to be obscene, but tight enough to give the perfect view of his rear end - and a smart white shirt. Hilary was a sucker for a white shirt, too. Thankfully she didn’t go to too many funerals - crushing on someone while at a church service or burial would be wildly inappropriate.

  The perfect plan finally came to her just as she was nodding off to sleep a couple of nights later. It was so fantastic that she sat up in bed, excitedly wondering when she could execute her idea. And what she would wear while she did it.

  Chapter Two

  Hilary could barely concentrate at work the following day. Thankfully, a problem with the office servers meant she couldn’t really do anything, anyway. So, along with her colleagues, she spent an afternoon cleaning, tidying and throwing out old, unwanted stuff from drawers, desks and filing cabinets. It didn’t exactly occupy her mind, so she was able to daydream uninterrupted about the gorgeous pub manager and how she was going to find out if he liked her, too.

  When her working day was finished, she hung around chatting to her work buddies for a while rather than rushing off. She wasn’t doing it because she felt like it, more because she had an ulterior motive. She didn’t want to get home too early, because she’d be tempted to get showered and ready and head straight to the pub. The plan, however, dictated that she’d go much later, hopefully as the place was clearing out - of customers, anyway. The staff, of course, would be around until everything was cleaned and tidied away.

  She managed to waste twenty minutes by pretending to be interested in soap operas and who was getting voted out of the jungle. It wasn’t ideal, but every minute she was delayed made her one minute later arriving at the pub.

  Dawdling was the name of the game on her drive home, too. Normally she’d hit the accelerator hard to get into gaps in the traffic and be overtaking all the slow vehicles on the dual carriageway. Today, though, she waited patiently at every junction and roundabout, and didn’t even get irritated when some roadwork’s held her up.

  Hilary pulled onto her drive a full forty minutes later than she would on any other day. It was still earlier than she’d like, though. She’d just have to adopt some will power to stop her heading out too soon. Have a bath, instead of a shower. And paint her finger and toe nails. Dry and straighten her hair. She nodded. By the time she’d done all that, it’d be getting pretty late. Perfect.

  Much, much later, she grabbed her handbag and car keys, and left the house. By now, she was about ready to tear her sleek, straightened hair out with impatience.

  But it paid off. After parking her car and walking across the car park and into the pub, she was pleased to note how few people were left. The young families had long gone to tuck their children into bed. The couples who couldn’t be bothered to cook were probably now at home chilling out on the sofa and watching crappy TV. Or having sex. The hairs on the back of Hilary’s neck stood up. God, she wished she was having sex - with him.

  It wasn’t until his face appeared in front of hers that she realised just how engrossed she’d been in her dirty daydream.

  “Are you all right? Do you need help finding a table?” he said, looking concerned.

  Her cheeks flamed and she smiled tightly, failing miserably to get her embarrassment under control. Hopefully he’d attribute her high colour to her coming indoors from the cold.

  “Yes,” she said, eventually getting a grip of herself, “that would be lovely, thank you. Also, I wonder if I could ask you something.”

  “Of course,” he said, his dimples appearing as his mouth curved up at the corners, his lips looking oh-so-kissable, “fire away.”

  “Well, I’m here on a mission. I want to take the Chocolate Feast Challenge.”

  His eyes widened, and he looked her up and down, as though assessing her capability of completing the challenge. “You do?” A tiny frown line appeared between his eyebrows, but when she blinked, it was gone. “So what’s your question?”

  “I just wanted to know if you can just take the challenge straight off, or whether it’s in the rules that you have to have had a main meal first.”

  His eyebrows raised, and he pursed his lips - which just made Hilary want to kiss him all the more. And have his mouth explore her naked body... she shook her head to rid herself of the image before she turned into a slack-jawed, drooling mess right in front of him.

  “Do you know, I’m not sure. People usually have them after a main meal, and of course they’re already so full that they never eat all of the Chocolate Feast. No one has ever completed the challenge! Not in this particular pub anyway.”

  “Well,” she replied, her hopes rising, “they’re obviously not as smart as me. Or perhaps they’re just greedy and then get stumped by the sheer size of all that Chocolatey goodness, right after a huge dinner.”

  He nodded. “Come on, let’s find you a table. Then we’ll discuss this some more.”

  Inside her head, Hilary gave a fist pump and jumped for joy. Result! Not only had she gotten his attention, but they were going to have a further conversation. Granted, it was about a silly challenge the pub chain had set for its customers, but it was a start. If she played her cards right, she could be leaving the premises tonight with a date - or at the very least, his phone number. Oh, and with one hundred pounds worth of vouchers. That would keep her in meals at the pub for some months to come. Which was no hardship, because eye candy aside, the place did damn good food.

  Snapping out of her thought process, she concentrated on what was in front of her. The view was sublime. A grab-able arse, and a slim athletic body that she wanted to render naked and do unspeakable things to. She was so engrossed that she almost collided with his back when he st
opped at an empty table and gestured to it.

  “This one okay?” he said, turning to her with a smile.

  “It’s fine, thank you.” She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the back of her chair before sitting down. “Thanks for your help...” She deliberately tailed off, hoping he’d get the hint and tell her his name.

  Thankfully he did. “Oh. It’s Stephen. And you?”

  “I’m Hilary.” She held out her hand.

  He took it, and they shook. A zing of heat shot up from her hand, through her wrist and right up her arm. Her entire body tingled, and she sucked in a hasty breath.

  Judging by the way Stephen was staring at their entwined hands, he’d felt something, too. Shifting his gaze up to her face, he smiled weakly. “I - I’ll just go and find out about the challenge small print for you. Can I bring you a drink when I come back?”

  He’d definitely felt something. She knew it. The thought bolstered her confidence and she was now less nervous about making a move on him. He wouldn’t do anything during working hours - he was just too professional - but that wouldn’t stop her now. Not now she’d discovered he was interested in her, too.

  “Yes,” she said suddenly, remembering he’d asked her a question. “A lime and lemonade would be great, thanks. No ice.”

  He gave a curt nod and glanced at the corner of the table, checking the small brass circle which held the table number before heading off in the direction of the bar. Hilary watched him go, admiring his bottom for the umpteenth time and grinning at the warmth that still pervaded her body as a result of the two of them shaking hands. God, if she reacted that way just from the most innocent touch, what would happen if they did end up kissing, or even better, in bed together? It would be explosive.