Free Bittersweet Chocolate by Emily Wade-Reid

won’t be gone long.”
    Curiosity ended her resistance. They climbed over the rail and entered his apartment. She’d learned his place was larger than hers, with three bedrooms, two and a half baths. Graham and Richard had their own rooms that shared a bath. The other two occupants, Dalten and Barry, who were cousins, shared a room and the other bath.
    She found herself in a large bedroom, her fascinated gaze taking in every facet of its decor. It had to be his room, because the setting suited Graham.
    In the center of one wall was a king-sized bed with some sort of animal-print bedding and a small sofa at its foot. Taking her time, she moved toward the sofa, assimilating the masculinity of the room. Clean and uncluttered, its walls decorated with African art strategically placed, the ambiance embodied the essence of the man, erotically stimulating. Dropping down on the couch, she watched the sheer power of rippling muscle and aesthetics of movement as he walked about the room lighting candles and incense.
    He came to the sofa, settling beside her. She couldn’t resist running her fingertips down the corded muscle of his arm while observing his every action as he rolled a joint. Their gazes converged when the tip of his tongue snaked out to moisten the paper, and a shiver of excitement rocked her body. His stare never wavered as he lit the joint, put it to his lips, inhaling deeply, and created a red glow as the paper dissolved. A spiral of smoke billowed up between them. He passed the joint to her.
    Eyes warming, he watched her sorry attempts to draw on the reefer and inhale. She started coughing. “It burns...my nose.”
    He kept up a gentle persuasion, encouraging her to keep trying. By the time she had the hang of it, she was high. Taking the joint from her nerveless fingers, he leaned close and whispered, “Open for me, Marissa.”
    Eyebrow arched, she leaned away.
    “Come on, I think you’ll enjoy this. It’s called the shotgun.” She frowned and he laughed. “It’s not dangerous. All you do is inhale when I exhale. It won’t hurt.”
    Suspicious but curious, she slightly parted her lips. He drew on the joint, placed his mouth over hers, and exhaled. She inhaled. Before she could move away, he grasped the back of her head, held her immobile, and slipped his tongue into her mouth.
    Drawing the velvety softness into her mouth, exploring, the tang of licorice-flavored Sen-Sen coating his tongue ambushed her taste buds. Tongues dueling, he gained control. The man knew how to kiss, jump-starting her pulse.
    He released the first three hook-and-eye fasteners on her bustier and brushed his hand across the fullness of her breasts before slipping that hand down beneath her waistband. Head dropping to her chest, she squirmed beneath an onslaught of sensations from the stroke of his tongue teasing each nipple. Sighing, she closed her eyes as jumbled thoughts skittered across her mind.
    What was she doing with this man? How could she have changed so radically from her all-consuming feelings for Joel? It had taken little effort for Graham to arouse her.
    Soft mewling noises escaped her and he pulled away, eyeing her skeptically.
    “You really like this, don’t you?”
    “I’m not supposed to?”
    “No-yes...I’m just surprised.” He continued to regard her. “I like it, those sexy sounds you make.” Smoothing one hand up and down her back, he nuzzled her neck. “Mmm, you smell good. How far are we going with this?”
    “How far do you want to go?” Damn. Still unable to curb her insatiable sexual curiosity, and probably never would.
    His voice was a breathless whisper. “When?”
    She stood, smiling down at him while she adjusted her clothing. “I have to get back to my guests.” She left him scrambling to pull himself together.
     
    Marissa reentered an apartment shrouded in darkness. Once her eyes adjusted, she walked cautiously through the hallway, following the soft glow emanating from the living room.