"Well, love, at least you didn't bring strawberries," Sean laughed, meeting me at his door and taking the box of cherry cordials from me. I shoved a playful finger in his face.
"Listen, buster. Number one, you told me ANY chocolates, you had an urge for ANY chocolates. Bingo, this is `any'. Number two, all of the other stuff was that nougat crap, and I didn't feel like driving elsewhere on the way over here in THIS rain. Number three, I remembered you telling me one time that you didn't like the crème cordials, only the syrup ones. These're syrup. At least give me credit for remembering."
He grabbed me up in his arms, and gave me that heart stopping smile. Damn, he made me breathless…
"Feisty wench," he nuzzled into my neck, his breath searing my skin.
I dug my fingers into his hair, forcing his nuzzle to become a series of spicy openmouthed kisses. "Aye, milord," I giggled into his ear, playing along. "Verily, I require suitable punishment for being so tart-mouthed."
That remark sent Sean into snuffles of laughter in the curve of my shoulder, and he slid me down the length of his perfect body. His cock was already hard, straining against the confining denim. It was going to be a looong night. Fine with me… He picked up the box of cherries again, eyeing them and eyeing me. "I do believe, wench," he growled, "that your punishment will be to share these with me… in the bedroom." Turning me around by the shoulders, he nudged me with his hips. "Off with thee, saucy girl."
"You start in with the Shakespeare, and I swear I'll beat the piss out of you," I airily warned over my shoulder as I flounced into the bedroom. I stopped short in the doorway, gasping at the sight. Holy… wow…
The lights were off, and candles glittered all over the room, all of them the same French Vanilla scent, it seemed. The light scent lingered in the air, mingling with the fresh smell of the evening rain outside. The hot tub was bubbling away in the corner, laden with bubbles that sparkled like miniature jewels in the candlelight. And the huge bed had not only tons of velvet oversized pillows piled atop it, but a new canopy of sheer burgundy and gold gauze that fluttered in the slight breeze from the open window. Sean wrapped himself around me from behind, pulling my shirt aside with a fingertip and tracing my collarbone with a seductive, teasing tongue. I gave in to the sensations he aroused in me, closing my eyes. My head lolled back onto his shoulder, and my hands crept back and around his hips, hugging his firm ass to rub his cock against me. We swayed to and fro for an endless moment to the wordless, sensual music surrounding us; Sean then abruptly picked me up and laid me on the pillows, following me down. As we unbuttoned each other's clothing, peeling off layers in an erotic, horizontal striptease, he intoned,
" `Come live with me, and be my love; And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys, groves, hills and fields, Woods or steepy mountain yields.' "
I smiled and nipped his nose. "Saving yourself from a beating by quoting Marlowe. Very ingenious, milord."
Sean smiled that smile again, and the butterflies danced madly in my stomach. "Well, we all know who wrote Shakespeare's plays," he giggled sarcastically.
Rolling my eyes and laughing, I groaned, "Oh, god… is this going to be a discourse?"
"No, love," Sean murmured, picking a cherry out of the box and biting a hole in the chocolate. "This is going to be a seduction."
"Oh, good, `cause I was getting a bit worried there – " He stopped my cheeky reply with his lips. Mine parted to allow his tongue to slide deliciously inside, twining with my own and setting me on fire. Hands roved over my nude skin, and when he had coaxed one of my nipples to a hard little peak, I felt a warm drizzle oozing onto it. I pulled my lips away from his and looked down. Sean had drained the cherry syrup from the one he had bitten, letting it fall into lacy, sticky-sweet patterns on my breast. Bringing the spent cordial to my lips, he placed it in my mouth. I bit down on it, feeling the ripe cherry pop between my teeth; at the same time, Sean dipped his lips to my nipple, licking the syrup off with long, sweeping strokes of his tongue, stopping to suckle after each lick. Cherry juice and chocolate still in my mouth, I leaned my head back and moaned through it, savoring his touch…
"My turn, love," I heard his breathy whisper in my ear, a chocolate placed in my hand. He lay back completely, and I simply stared. I had a beautiful picture before me; golden skin kissed by candlelight, blond hair tipped with pale shades of the sun, sinewy muscles bunching and smoothing with every move, those lidded green eyes salaciously gazing at me… and that cock. Standing upright and rigid from a dark blond patch of curls, smooth as polished wood. Thick. Throbbing ever so slightly. The temptation to start with his cock was strong, damn was it ever… but I bit the bottom rim off of the cordial and, from a foot above him, let it trickle in a languorous stream onto his chest. The clear syrup glistened as it oozed across his hot skin, trailing down to his navel. Bending my head, I licked, tasting salt and sweetness, lapping like a feline and purring as I did. I slipped the chocolate into his wet mouth; then my fingers went to his nipples, pinching and rolling them, and the syrup coated my fingertips… Sean arched up and groaned deep in his throat. As I continued to lave his chest, he took my hand and sucked the syrup off my fingers one by one, his tongue sweeping around and between them. Mid-whimper, I plunged the tip of my tongue into his navel where the syrup had pooled. Sean shivered and grunted. It was one of his most sensitive spots, and I used that fact to full advantage, making him writhe and moan as I licked it clean…
When I thought I'd driven him sufficiently insane for the time being, I sat up and grinned evilly.
" `Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.' "
Sean quirked an eyebrow at me. "What, Macbeth isn't good enough for you?," he teasingly groused. I reached for a cordial and dropped it into his hand. Settling back with a sigh and a snuggle, I said mock-seriously,
"Honestly, I think the mad Prince of Denmark suits you better than the gloomy Scottish King."
