The ganache was thick, rich, so dark it was almost black. I traced a half-moon through the unmarred surface, and then, moving until I was only inches away from him, I held out my finger. “What do you think?”
He was breathing heavily now, the air between us thick with tension. Locking eyes with me, he took my wrist. I felt his own hand shake slightly as he guided my finger into his mouth.
The cold ganache melted instantly. I felt his tongue curl around my finger, sucking longer than was necessary.
I leaned even closer. “Do you like it?”
My other hand had found his arm, and his skin was hot to touch. His eyes were hungry as he searched my own, as his hand came up to grip my arm in return.
“Delicious.” His voice was scratchy, so low now I could hardly hear it. “Can I have some more?”
I pressed forward, and his hands found my waist, then the back of my neck. I could feel him hard against my hip as his grip tightened, and I gave him my most inviting smile before our mouths touched.
“His hands were fumbling slightly, and I guided them inside my towel. He was already moaning, running his palms over my torso, down over my ass.”
My nerve endings were like bright points of light, oversensitive to everything, greedily demanding more. He kissed me hard, eagerly, but I could feel a tremor run through him. His hands were fumbling slightly, and I guided them inside my towel. He was already moaning, running his palms over my torso, down over my ass. My towel dropped to the floor.
