a/n: This is my Valentine's
Day treat for you all ;) Enjoy. It's solely for fluff so this is
a one-shot :)
Chocolaty Sweet Surrender
It
was the day after Valentine's Day, the morning after the most
romantic night of the year, yet Sara woke to an empty bed and a foggy
recollection. Tongues crashing together, hips jarring, sweat,
fire. Was it real? His hands on the tender skin of her
inner thighs, expertly probing, flicking, flashing away. Maybe
it had been a dream, though she shivered a little with pleasure as
she remembered…or was it a memory? Surely the memory of his
rough lips on hers and his hands finally where she had wanted them
ever since she had met him were not figments. She felt a flash
of heat as she remembered his lips trailing down her neck as he held
her from behind, their oily bodies sliding back and forth gently.
Still in the sleepy fogginess of morning, her mind
couldn't—or wouldn't—wake up. The sheets felt like ice
on her skin and Sara realized she was naked. What had
happened? Maybe it had just been a vivid dream. That had
to be it. Otherwise, her every fantasy of him would be
shattered. If it were real, he'd be here in my bed with me,
she thought to herself. He's not a coward to run away in the
soberness of morning after a night of…passion? Had he been
drunk? Wait, no, this wasn't real so it didn't matter.
Though, she could hardly imagine him ever letting go— let alone
ending up in her bed. No matter how much she wanted him there.
Another dreamlike memory rose to the surface of her
thoughts. His eyes, so dark with need, flickering like black
fire, as he attacked her with his body. His thick, gentle
fingers—the same ones she had stared at, feeling guilty as she
fantasized— began to massage slowly down her hips and between her
legs. Even as she clutched him desperately, his lips brushed
hers with infinite softness, making her whimper.
Calming her racing pulse and reluctant arousal, she slipped back into a thin sleep.
-- -- --
Leaning in the doorway, he watched the sunlight stream in
through the windows. It was truly the most beautiful time of
day, now, when the desert wasn't yet hot, when the sun was still
gentle. She looked so achingly lovely, with a curl of
sweet-smelling hair that tickled her cheek and the loose sheet that
had slid away from her shoulder and betrayed the curve of a breast.
For a minute, he could forget his worry.
The truth was, he
had no idea what to do. Should he leave now before more damage
was done? Should he stay with her, whispering in her ear
until she stirred and disappear after breakfast? Should he
slide under the sheet with her, as his body ached to do, and make
love to her again until she screamed his name?
It wasn't too late, not yet. He could still make his escape.
He could pull back in to the shell he had built himself into and
pretend he had never let himself go. Maybe she didn't
remember. Sara had, after all, been tipsy, to put it lightly.
She probably didn't
remember putting her cool hand on his thigh and leaning in so close
her lips brushed his ear as she spoke with the sweet smell of rum on
her breath. "Do you want me?" Her words
had given him chills. Maybe it was the buzz of liquor in his
veins, or just plain lust, but he had turned to her and captured her
mouth and pushed her against the bar hard enough to bruise her pale
skin.
He didn't want
her to forget.
-- -- --
When
she woke, she was more confused than before. Bare skin—not
hers, was pressed against the length of her body. She opened
her eyes to the sight of salt and pepper stubble and familiar (though
slightly swollen) lips. Baby blue eyes gave her an appraising
look before he inclined his head and pressed his lips to her
forehead. One arm lazily snaked down her shoulder. "It
wasn't…" she was afraid to ask as if questioning it would make
him disappear.
"No,
Sara, it was real," he rumbled. Her fingertips brushed his
bare chest and felt the gentle thrum of his heart beating. He
stiffened against her touch and tried to pass off a gasp as clearing
his throat. She smiled and licked her lips, inches from his
face. Their legs touched barely.
In a sudden
movement, his hands cupped her cheeks lovingly and brought their lips
together. Her mouth was sweet. It tasted of milk chocolate, soft
and creamy, and of tangy champagne. When had they had that? Her
hands slid down his neck and trickled over the curve of his ass. He
inhaled sharply as her teeth grazed his lower lip. The taste of
chocolate became almost overwhelming, he moaned and his mind went
blank.
With a barely perceptible bucking of her hips, their bare
bellies met. It was all the encouragement he needed.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Sara," he whispered, and pulled her on
top of him.