Making the Hook-Up (23 page)

With a loud moan of surrender, I gave into the craving I'd
buried and confessed how desperately I needed him to make love to me.

“Now you're ready for me, baby.” He eased his penis into me knowing better than I did what I really needed. If he had been too rough, I would've had more pain than pleasure. I wanted to make up for all the times I'd denied myself but a frenzied fuck wasn't the best way to do it.

The slow steady sensation of him made me realize he'd made the right decision. It would've been easy for him to pound into me like there was no tomorrow but there was, and he wanted us to have more experiences like this one. I felt his teeth biting into my shoulder, his hands gripping my hips, testing and waiting until I was ready, until I was so slick he moved inside me with fluid grace. Only then did he increase the rhythm, allow the animal in him to take over.

I wasn't screaming anymore, I was growling. I wanted to get down on my hands and knees and rut in the dirt while he pumped me from behind. I'd never felt so alive. I felt myself falling and crying, crying and falling, as something broke inside. Everything I'd gone through over the last few months came rushing to the surface, the shattered dreams, and the definition of myself then and now. It came out in my tears and my juices, running down my face and thighs as I came in an explosion of pleasure and pain. I heard Xavier, grunting his way to release behind me. When his body finally stilled, I felt the warmth of his release inside me, just as the clouds climaxed and poured down on us.

Xavier released my hands and spun me around to face him. I couldn't look in his eyes but openly admired his beautiful semi-hard cock. I pushed him up against the wall and eased him into me.

The rain turned hard, matching the tempo of our frantic thrusts. It felt like tiny pieces of ice beating an island rhythm
on my back and behind. My skin felt raw and alive under the onslaught of the wet spanking.

I buried my fingers in Xavier's hair and cried out as I came. The rain suddenly turned softer and heavier. I started crying as it washed over me, therapeutically washing away the self-deprecating pain I carried with me for so long.

Afterward he took me inside and we had sex again and again and heaven help me again. Even after he fell into exhaustion, I couldn't shut down. He'd just given me the most incredible experience of my life and I wanted to relive every delicious moment. I decided a soak and a glass of wine was the best way to do it.

While I lounged in warm water and spun sonnets describing Xavier's cock, sleep finally claimed me. The dream came again. Feeling Jasmine-scented water cover my face woke me up fast. I sat up sputtering and coughing.

Suddenly something flashed in my mind, a long-forgotten night a few months before my mother died. What I'd thought was a dream was actually a repressed memory. I remembered my mother lying in the same tub. I remembered my father kicking open our front door. Grandma was at church and I was in my room. I heard him shouting and cursing at my mother. I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom door just as mom threw her wineglass at him. It cut his arm, the blood quickly staining the whitewashed floorboards. He cursed and lunged at her, pushing her down into the water. I screamed and he released her.

“You better not become a whore like your mother!” he shouted at me before leaving.

I hadn't understood all of the names he'd called her but I knew what it all meant. He didn't like Mom because she had other men and the things she did with them were bad. If I wanted him to love me, I had to be a good girl. That message had been ingrained in my subconscious and it had set the tone for my life.
I wasn't frigid; being with Xavier had proven that. But knowing the source of my misconception was even more liberating.

I considered confronting my father, but I knew there would be little point. He wouldn't see how much he'd hurt me and getting him to see things my way wasn't important anymore. I had to let him and my desperate need for his approval go and move on with my life without the restrictions he'd placed on me.

Instead I cried for the little girl I used to be, the little girl I'd held on to until that very moment. I allowed her to flow down the drain. Then I got into bed and woke Xavier up by running my tongue down his back.

 

“Are you coming back to bed, baby?” I turned from the stove and smiled at Xavier standing naked in the doorway. It was only half past seven in the morning yet the kitchen was balmy from the heat and my cooking. I was wearing nothing but an apron and a contented smile. My torrid night spent in Xavier's arms had reawakened my creativity in other areas as well.

“Come here and taste this bread. I haven't had bread like this since my grandma made it.” I held out a piece of warm coconut bread.

He took my hand by the wrist but didn't take the bread. Instead, he lowered his head and stole a kiss. “Taste like heaven.”

I gave him a reproving look. “Baby, I'm serious. I finally feel like I'm making the right kind of food. I want your honest opinion because this will be my menu when I finally open.” My hand swept over the kitchen. Almost every available surface held a tempting dish in various stages of completion.

Xavier took the bread and chewed on it slowly. “It is perfect. Your food will always be perfect when you allow the flavors to just be themselves.”

“Yeah, I know that now,” I said softly.

“It's Sunday. So why don't you come back to bed and allow me to feast on something I really feel like eating right now?” Xavier whispered.

I pushed him away playfully. “I can't. I have melted chocolate on the stove. I can't just leave it.”

“I can think of a better way to use that chocolate.”

Xavier pulled me into his arms and kissed me so thoroughly, all thoughts of cooking went out of my mind. He backed me up against the kitchen table and my bare behind landed on a loaf of warm bread. Surprisingly, it felt good, tactile and pure. I sighed blissfully at this new experience. Sensing it, Xavier untied my apron, spun me around, and bent me over the table. My breasts sank into the loaves.

I moaned and seconds later, I felt warm chocolate being spread with a big wooden spoon on my behind, down my legs then up my back. I felt covered in a big, warm orgasm. Xavier playfully knocked the spoon against my behind when he was done.

“Oh, do that again, that feels nice,” I cooed.

“You just love a good spanking, don't you, girl?”

I smiled. “Isn't that what you do to bad girls?”

“And you've been such a bad girl, haven't you?” He hit me again, this time without mercy, and I begged for another.

“What do you feel when I hit you? What does the pain do for you?”

I thought about it for a second. “I guess it gives me power over my pain, physical and emotional. It allows me to turn it into something that's beautiful and feels so damn good. I thank you for showing me how to do that.”

“I can show you because I've been there myself. But right now I just want to taste you.” He cleared a path with his tongue
from my cheeks to the nape of my neck. “It tastes even better paired with your skin.”

He licked the spoon clean before rubbing it against the folds of my pussy. The big spoon cupped me perfectly. I reached behind, cupped my cheeks, and opened myself up to him. He ran the spoon over my clit, pressing gently into the tender nubbin. I started hissing like a feline. There were no words to let him know how exquisite it was.

He seemed to know exactly when to replace the spoon with his penis. I stretched out my hands and grabbed the other side of the table. He reached his long body over me and placed his hands on either side of mine. My body pressed into the food as we used the table to drive him deep into me.

I started humming. It was the only thing I could think of. I hummed a nonsensical song over and over until my thoughts jumbled into each other and nothing made sense except the force of his thrust, which I felt in every fiber of my being. When we came, Xavier buried his face in my neck and released a string of curses into my hair. It seemed a long time before we could move and even longer before my body wanted to be separate from his.

Finally he lifted himself from the table and pulled me up. I laughed as I gazed down at the food stuck to my body and the chocolate covering his.

“We desperately need a shower.”

Xavier swung me up into his arms. “I can't think of a more perfect place for dessert.”

I learned he had an insatiable appetite for food and sex, and I was like a virgin. I couldn't seem to get enough of him.

Our weekend together inspired my most popular desert at the restaurant, a decadent delight I call sex and chocolate. In the year I've been open, Xavier has inspired many of my dishes.
The island people have embraced my food, and I finally feel like I'm living my dream. The weekends are for adults only, and we feature the pairing of sensuality with food. Now that I know it's okay for me to be a sexual being, I've had so many amazing sexual experiences.

I'm not afraid of life anymore, and I don't spend much time stressing over what other people think of me. It's not my job to make everyone like me. It's my right to be true to myself and trust that the universe will bring people into my life who will love me just the way I am. I know it sounds like something a therapist would say. Maybe I've just done enough work on myself to sound like one.

 

 

 

 

 

I
t was one of those weekends I wanted to stay in bed and enjoy the feel of my soft sheets and blankets on my face and legs. A weekend where I could possibly relax, take in a few movies, eat only when I absolutely needed to, and sleep whenever I felt the need. I had no idea it would be so drastically different until Friday night when Denise roused me off my couch to try out some film festival with her.

“It's called Horrorfest, but don't get all anti until you hear me out,” she said.

I had her on speakerphone while I looked through my closet, not even wanting to brush my hair. It'd been a long week at work and I just wanted to relax at home alone. Even my roommate was gone for the weekend.

“So,” she continued, “my friend directed a movie in the festival and he's bringing along some of his friends.”

“Male?” I was starting to warm up to the idea of an outing.

“Very,” she said. “I think they're young and single, too.”

I pulled out a formfitting black shirt and some designer jeans. My straight dark hair looked limp in the mirror. Why couldn't I have gotten my mother's light brown curls? Instead I was stuck with my Chinese father's straight and unmanageable hair.

“My hair looks horrible!” I shrieked.

“I'm sure it looks fine.” She sounded distracted, like she was putting on her makeup. But what would she know about my straight hair? She had hair like my mother's.
At least I have a booty and boobs,
my inner critic said. I got dressed.
At least I didn't get the flat-chested and flat-butted gene from my dad's side.

I put some shimmery lipstick on my lips, ran a comb through my hair. My slightly almond-shaped eyes looked back at me mischievously.

Nerves settled in my stomach on the drive to the theater. For some reason, this night felt more intense than others. Maybe it was because I was getting out of the house, but maybe it was something else. My jeans felt like they were fitting perfectly and my smile felt just right. It could be my lucky night.

Denise's friend Greg met us outside in front of the box office.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said, encircling us both in a hug. I almost teetered off my high-heeled boots, he pulled us in with such force.

“So you directed this movie, huh?” I was impressed. Call it silly for me to be impressed by such a thing when I lived in L.A., but I couldn't help it.

“I certainly did. Thanks for coming out tonight,” he said.

I laughed at his enthusiasm. “No problem. I was just going to stay at home on my couch anyway,” I admitted, a slight blush creeping up my cheeks.

“Well, come on in. There's a big group of us in the last few rows.”

I followed after Denise. I wasn't exactly a horror fan, and I felt a little anxious that I'd have to pretend to act normal and nonscared in a theater full of boys. And wow, what a crowd of boys it was. When we entered the auditorium, the smell of men flocked to my nose. That sweet smell of shower and after-shave stuck to my skin. And to think, I was going to stay home. The smell of men quickly grabbed my attention and made me anxious.

“Everyone, this is Denise and Lizzy,” Greg said to the crowd.

The testosterone-heavy crowd looked our way and waved. They all shouted, “Hi, Denise and Lizzy!”

I couldn't help but giggle at all of their grinning faces. My eyes scanned the crowd of men and immediately settled on one. Right away I noticed the quiet guy at the other end of the row in front of me, checking his phone and not really looking around much. He was in jeans and a buttondown shirt. His head was shaved and his dark skin looked smooth, like it would be soft to touch.

“Let's go sit at the other end,” Denise said, pointing to the seats in front of my sexy target.

I knew exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to squeeze by the entire row of men. If only I could be as bold as her. I grabbed her arm and she led us to the other end, where, of course, I tripped and fell backward onto the sexy Adonis I'd been eyeing.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” I attempted to scramble back up, only to be accidentally knocked down by Denise, right back into his lap.