Chocolate Salty Balls, part 1

I smile as Cosima hugs me from behind. Leaning back against her, I delight in the feeling of her slender body pressed to my back, her arms wrapped snugly around my waist. "Hello, chérie. You must have been working late."

"Hello, yourself," she murmurs between my shoulderblades. "Didn't realize what time it was until my eyes started bubbling. Forgot to eat dinner so my blood sugar got super low."

Turning, I drape my arms around her shoulders and kiss her softly. "I hope you ate something."

"Scott gave me a, um, vintage Twinkie that he found in his desk drawer. Then we went to Smoke's and split this ridiculously huge order of poutine. I'm still burping cheese curds."

"Pouah!" I can't help laughing. "What were you working on that had you so enthralled?"

"We kinda fell into a pharmacogenomics rabbit hole."

"I can see where that could get distracting. Did you find anything interesting?"

"Well, for one thing, I have a *4 allele for CYP2D6, which explains why I don't really respond to codeine for pain. That shit jacks me up and makes me puke, anyway, so until I find something more effective I think I'll stick to weed. Whatcha making? I could smell chocolate from the elevator."

"This is for dessert tomorrow night. You did say you didn't want to go out for dinner."

She makes a face. "Yeah, not interested in fighting with hordes of people all trying to make romantic gestures in the middle of an overcrowded restaurant. Take it from a former server: Valentine's Day is one of the worst times of the year to eat out. We used to call it amateur night."

I rest my forehead against hers, watching the play of light in her eyes. "I can think of nothing I would like better than to stay in and have a nice romantic dinner at home with you."

"And then fuck like bunnies until we're so exhausted we stumble in to work at like noon the next day?"

Smiling, I kiss the tip of her nose. "That too."

Cosima burrows into my neck, pressing her lips softly to the hollow of my throat. "Seriously, though, what are you making? 'Cause this looks amazing." Before I can stop her, she reaches out to swipe a finger through a bowl of cooling ganache. Her eyes close as she licks her finger clean. The lazy cat curl of her tongue mesmerizes me. "Holy shit, that's good. Way better than stale Twinkies." She tips up her head to kiss me. "Dude, is that bourbon and salted caramel in there?"

I kiss away a bit of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. "Yes, along with butter and a little strong coffee. No more sampling," I say sternly, pushing away her wrist to prevent her from stealing another taste. Sliding my other hand down, I pinch the curve of her bottom.

"Hey!"

"And for your information, I am making truffles. Furthermore, the ganache is perfectly emulsified and at the correct temperature right now, and if you don't let me finish them I'll have to re-emulsify the mixture and then let it cool again. Which means we will not be able to start 'fucking like bunnies' tonight until — "

"Okay, okay, I'll be a good girl." Teeth gently nip at the junction of my neck and shoulder. "But what happens if I'm a very bad girl?

I smack her smartly on the ass, leaving my hand in place to enjoy the feeling of caressing her firm warm flesh encased in velvety finewale corduroy. "Then you don't get any truffles. I will give them all to Scott and make sure he eats every single one in front of you."

She deliberately grinds her hips, pressing her buttocks into my hand. "That's just playing dirty, Dr. Cormier." A slim strong thigh insinuates itself between my legs, making me hiss when firm muscle presses against my sex through my jeans.

"Petite peste!" I swat her on the butt again, then propel her over to the breakfast bar with a little push. Laughing, she sticks out her tongue at me, hops up onto a stool and props her head on her hands to watch me.

Using my smallest disher, I scoop the ganache into identically sized half moon lumps. I pull on a pair of nitrile gloves and quickly roll each lump into a perfectly round ball, spacing them evenly on a parchment-covered sheet pan. Setting the pan into the refrigerator to let the balls cool and firm up for a few minutes, I make sure everything else is ready.

Working quickly, I drop each one into a bowl of tempered dark chocolate, then lift it with a fork, tapping it against the side of the bowl to shake off the excess. Some of them, I immediately roll in a pie pan filled with finely chopped toasted hazelnuts; others I roll in cocoa powder or sprinkle with a tiny pinch of fleur de sel. With a grunt of satisfaction, I strip off and discard my gloves and inspect my handiwork, critically looking over the neat rows of truffles and finding nothing to fault.

Cosima's eyes are wide behind her glasses. "That is, like, sex on a plate. Literally."

I smile at her. Carefully poking at one of the salt-sprinkled truffles to make sure it is firm enough to handle, I take it over to her and pop it into her mouth.

"Duuuuude," she moans, chewing happily.

Leaning over the bar, I capture her mouth in a deliciously chocolatey, sweet-salty kiss. "Mmm." Suddenly I get an idea. I reach out to grab what's left of the tempered chocolate, then move around the other side of the bar, spinning her stool around to face me. She lets her legs part so I can sidle between them, cupping her cheeks in my hands and kissing her deeply again.

I trail my hands down over her torso, slipping them beneath the hem of her sweater and skimming it up and off her body. Undoing the clasp of her bra and flinging it after the sweater, I sigh with pleasure at the sight of her bared skin.

Nimble fingers undo the buttons of my placket and slide my shirt off my shoulders. She pulls me closer. We both groan at the sensation of her breasts pressing against mine.

Reaching for the bowl, I dip a finger into the chocolate, then paint a line along each side of her jawline and daub the rest over her lips. Moving slowly, I kiss and lick away every trace of chocolate, paying extra attention to her mouth until it is parted and swollen.

Cosima sticks two fingers into the bowl to scoop up a big dollop, splotching it at the center of my chest and feathering smears around my breasts. Copying my example, she kisses and licks all the chocolate off my skin, adding nips of her teeth to the sensitive undersides of my breasts until they are tingling and I am arching toward her, all but shoving them into her mouth. Looking up at me with a naughty grin, she scoops up more chocolate and coats each of my nipples with a thick layer. I wind my hands into her dreads and insistently guide her head down, crying out when she licks and sucks first at one nipple, then then other, sending little jolts of arousal straight to my thrumming cunt.

Panting, I free my hands from her hair and dab chocolate into her belly button. Kneeling on the floor between her legs, I swirl my tongue into the little cavity until she is gasping and giggling helplessly.

I start to undo the button of her waistband but she stops me with a hand on my wrist. "No chocolate below the waist, babe. Not unless you want to have to treat me for a raging yeast infection."

Tugging her down so I can kiss her, I plunder the depths of her mouth and let her do the same to mine. "Then it's a good thing I don't need my hands to eat you out, chérie," I murmur against her lips. "Now. If you have no further objections, your pants are very much in my way."

"Ooohhh, Dr. Cormier..."

Sorry for the short but (I hope) sweet chapter — I have Big Plans for my wife for tomorrow *eg*. Happy Valentine's Day to all, and à bientôt, j'espère!