Cravings (10 page)

Chapter 20

B
ack in the condo, Sanj checked out their room more closely. All of the decor related to chocolate and it bordered on the tacky. But it was Resort d'Chocolate, he told himself. The room's fabric and furniture were colored in warm chocolate tones, the bathroom held chocolate bubble bath, body cream, and shampoo. The kitchen was fully stocked with gourmet chocolate syrups, chips, and candies.

Sasha's eyes found his, pleading. Did she want him again? Could he possibly?

On the counter, several plastic squeeze bottles sat with different shades of chocolate in them. Sasha reached for the dark-chocolate syrup with a gleam in her eye.

Sanj's first reaction was
too messy, don't even think about it
. But when he thought about the dark syrup on Sasha's lovely peaches-and-cream white skin, he stiffened.

The next thing Sanj knew Sasha had popped the bottle of chocolate syrup in the microwave and disrobed in the kitchen. Yes, right in the kitchen. Yes, nothing but skin. She was all long legs and boobs, a bit on the skinny side.

Sanj pulled her to him and kissed her. His arms wrapped around and cupped her ass as his tongue explored her lips, tongue, and mouth. He hadn't planned to have sex this evening—they had had sex that afternoon, twice. But his body was alert and ready for more. He'd never felt quite like this before—Sasha touched something in him, something fierce and yielding all at once. How could it be?

She began to unbuckle his belt, no fumbling—this woman knew how to undress a man. She pulled down his pants, his underwear, and knelt down in front of him. She gasped a little. She liked what she saw.

He drew in a breath, poised between reality and, and, and—
Sasha.

The tip of her tongue ran along the tip of him. Such heat, such moisture, he thought he would explode any minute.

The microwave beeped.

“Lie down,” she told him forcefully.

Something about the tone of her voice frightened and excited him all at once. Ordering men around came easily to Sasha. But did he want to be one of those men?
What the hell is wrong with you, Sanj, just do it. A beautiful, naked woman is asking you to lie down. Just fucking do it.

“Here?” he whispered. Barely.
Where did that voice come from? What was she up to? Stop thinking, Sanj, and let it ride.

“On the table, on the floor, wherever. Lie down.”

He lay back on the floor. It was chocolate-brown-and-white tile, cool on his ass and back. Sasha poured the warmed chocolate over his nipples. His body reacted with a shiver.
Whoa!
She continued to pour it over his stomach, and then a bit lower.

“Mmmmm,” she whispered. “Nice and dark. Now, where shall I start?”

She straddled him, in all her glory, boobs with ruby-red nipples swaying, leaned over him, and licked his nipples. Ate the chocolate off them. He gave into the soft and rippling sensation—then she bit him, hard.

“Ow!” he said.

She laughed. “A little pain for you,” she mumbled, looking up at him from his chest. “Do you mind?”

“Well, um, I—”

“Just a surprise, then?”

“Yes, I, ah,” Sanj said. Could he think to communicate right now? She focused on his other nipple, eating the thick brown liquid off it, swirling her tongue around on it. She licked her way down his stomach, sending goose pimples all over his skin.

“Mmmm, so responsive,” she said. A hoarse, thick whisper.

He could only moan. Words would not form in his mouth.

When her lips touched the rim of him he shuddered, trying to hold back. She reached up with her hands and twisted his nipples as she took his whole length into her mouth. His nipples burned. He thrummed with pleasure on the edge of pain and pleasure in a wicked, wicked mesh of feeling.

He knew he would unleash at any moment and started to pull away.

“No,” she said. “I want to taste you.”

“What?” he managed to say.

“It's okay,” she whispered. She took him deep in her mouth and throat and sucked him like he'd never been sucked before. He was undone, had no control at all. He was his cock, her mouth, all moved as one. Her hot wet tongue and lips moved over him in a fast rhythm. And when he released into her, he nearly sobbed with relief, with joy.

Sasha sat up on him again. Had nobody ever done that for him before? Poor man.

She took his hands and placed them on her breasts—her nipples hard, breasts swollen from the intense pleasure of having him in her mouth. Moist and needing relief, she wondered if he was spent.

“Mmmm, this is good chocolate,” she said, bringing her finger to her mouth and licking it.

His eyebrows raised. She had his attention.

She poured a little on her finger, smeared it on her breasts. It felt soft and gooey as she spread it on herself.

Sanj drew in a breath.

“Nice,” he said, almost growling.

He didn't seem spent at all as he rose and leaned into her, pressing her back against the floor, tonguing the still-warm chocolate from her breasts. The cool tile floor surprised her back. As he licked from her nipples, she reached her fingers to herself, found her bud, and started to finger it. When he noticed, he sat back and watched.

“God,” he whispered. “You are . . . amazing.”

He spread more syrup on her belly and started to lick it off as she continued to play with herself. So many men liked this, but she always felt herself disengage as she moved her fingers around on herself. She was so swollen, so thick, loved the feel of herself. She brought his hand to her.

“Inside,” she said.

His fingers entered her, touching hers inside, too, while his mouth lapped up the chocolate.

“You . . . are so . . . hot,” he said.

“On fire,” she said.

He brought his mouth to her center.

“So right, Sanj . . . more . . .” She took his back her in her hands and pushed him into her again. His lips wrapped around her clit. He bit her ever so gently—just the right amount of pressure at just the right time.

Sasha's body became a torrent of a fiery river, pulsing, not stopping. She fought to breathe. It would not stop. He held his mouth on her as she bucked hard against him—until she had to pull away from him.

They tangled together on the floor in a mess of chocolate and other stickiness. Breathing, sighing, stroking.

Sasha was content—ridiculously content.

“Are you okay?” Sanj asked, propping himself on his elbow.

She nodded. “I don't think I've ever come so long,” she said with a laugh. “I didn't think it was going to stop.”

Sanj looked pleased, like the cat who swallowed the canary. In one huge bite.

“Maybe we should get some rest,” he said. “In the bed.”

“Oh yes,” she said, still feeling high. “We should.”

He helped her to stand and they made their way to the king-sized bed.

“Let me get a towel, at least,” he said to her. As she watched him walk across the floor with the towel, she took in all of him, especially his ass, so firm and round. A momentarily flash came to her: that ass reddened by a riding crop. She blinked. What was happening to her? She'd left the dominatrix persona behind when she stopped working. But the image delighted her, alluring as it played in her mind.

Sasha didn't have the energy to vanquish the image—or take a shower. It would wait until morning. She drifted off into bliss, only to be awakened by Sanj poking at her—already hard.

“Good morning,” he said, opening her legs with his knees.

Indeed. It was a good morning.

Chapter 21

“H
ave you tried these muffins?” Jennifer asked.

“Exquisite,” Sasha said. “So rich. Is it the freshness of the chocolate? I've never had anything quite like it.”

Sanj looked over his laptop while they sat at the table in his room, eating breakfast.

“It might be the butter they used. Butter does make everything better, even chocolate,” Jennifer said. “At least that's what Sanj says.” She grinned slyly at him.

He totally ignored her.

Sasha was sick of her insinuations. Okay, so Jennifer and Sanj had been engaged and of course were lovers, but did she really need to keep reminding him?

“Excuse me, ladies,” Sanj said, rising from the table. “I need to make a few phone calls.”

Oh no! Don't leave me here with her,
Sasha mentally pleaded.

“But Sanj,” Jennifer said. “We'll be leaving in a few minutes for our workday.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbled. But he left the table anyway.

Sasha finished her muffin and took one more sip of her coffee.

“Do you think Maeve could be here?” Jennifer asked.

Sasha shrugged. “I hope so. If she's not here, I don't know where else to search.”

“What is it you want from her?”

Sasha sat back in her chair. “I need to see her, to let her know . . . some things.”

“You're lying.”

“I am not lying.”

“You are.”

“Look, of course there's more to it, but it's really none of your business.”

“Sasha, Maeve Flannery is always going to be my business,” Jennifer said.

Just then, their driver walked in. “We really must be going,” he said.

“Sanj?” Sasha called out.

“I'm sorry, ladies. I'll catch up with you later,” Sanj said.

“You'll have to get used to that if you're going to be in his life,” Jennifer said with a sigh as they gathered their bags.

Sasha shrugged. As long as she had nights with Sanj, she didn't really much care what he did during the day. She wished he was going with them—just to have a third pair of eyes to glance around the plantation.

But she wondered if Sanj was not really “working” as Jennifer had thought. She noticed his posture stiffening, his voice lowering. Who was it he was really talking with? No. Her gut told her Sanj was not working. In any case, she moved along, hoping to get her hands dirty at the cacao plantation, as well as find out what could possibly have happened to Maeve.

 

By noon, Sasha was rethinking everything.

What was she thinking when she thought this would be the life for her? She loved to get her hands in the soil, yes. But this was no quaint garden experience. The cacao pods were rough and hard on her hands. Sasha felt a headache come on from a mixture of the permeating bitter smell and the sun beating down on her. She was dirty, sweaty, and only wanted to find a bath.

Maybe Sanj was right. Maybe her study of chocolate should be taken up in a chocolate shop in Paris, in the lovely air-conditioning.

Paris. The thought of it provided her mind with enough texture and fancy to get through the next fifteen minutes until lunchtime. She thought about the last time she visited Paris. She was with a client. A client who was collared, who liked her to wear spike heels and grind them on his hands as she stood over him, otherwise completely naked.

A high official in the French government, he loved his humiliation. He never had sex with her—like most of her clients. He only wanted to please her. And he did have this exquisite way with his tongue. He had always been so grateful after. Even when she'd bruised him. Especially when she bruised him. So grateful that once he gave her a $500,000 bonus.

“You'll never know how much this means to me,” he said. “To simply focus on my needs for a change.”

If she missed anything about her work as a dominatrix, it was this filling a void in someone's life. But she didn't miss the rest of it—Snake taking her money, the constant partying, and the continual paranoia about getting arrested.

“I'm so ready for a break,” Jennifer said, throwing the last pod in their bucket.

Sasha nodded.

“No Sanj,” Jennifer said, taking off her hat and wiping her brow. “I hope he's okay.”

“I'm sure he's fine,” Sasha said. Jennifer's expression of concern was unmistakable. “You still care about him.”

It was a statement, not a question.

Jennifer pursed her lips. “We didn't break up because I didn't care about him.”

“Of course not. You were going to marry,” Sasha said, suddenly feeling compassion for Jennifer, whose eyes revealed a depth of hurt, briefly. Then she blinked it away.

“Yes, marriage is about, well, more than love,” she said. “We had other issues.”

“Like what? Do you mind my asking?” Sasha brushed the dirt off her hands and searched for their guide, nowhere to be found.

“Complicated,” Jennifer said and shrugged. “A culture thing. He's very Indian, even though he's well traveled and educated and modern and all. He's very traditional when it comes to things like marriage.”

“Humph,”
Sasha said.
Good thing I'm not interested in marriage.

“So you may be barking up the wrong tree,” she said.

“Look, I like Sanj,” Sasha said. “But we just met. Besides, I'm not really the marrying type,” she said and grinned.

“Ladies,” came a woman's voice from behind them. “Lunchtime.”

When Sasha turned around, a light-skinned, auburn-haired woman stood in front of her. She resembled Maeve, only she was much thinner and shorter than Maeve. Damn. This was the woman that Mozingo took off with—not their Maeve!

“Are you American?” Jennifer asked.

“Why, yes, I am,” she responded. “I'm from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. You?”

“I live in New York City,” Jennifer clipped. “What are you doing here?”

She laughed. “Follow me,” she said. She led them around the hill to the main house, where the others in the group waited for them, including a tall, dark, elegant man. José Mozingo.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke. “I hope you've learned a bit about the plantation and are now ready to take a break with the lovely lunch my new wife, Emma, has prepared for you.”

New wife? Sasha's eyes met Jennifer's.

The woman laughed. “New wife, indeed,” she said. “We were married last week, a few days after we met in Ecuador. Welcome to my new home.”