III

A storm is raging overhead, the lightning flashes across the window, whipping rain towards it, lulling me to sleep. Trying to wake up, I lit my Vanilla candles, and mused that my house usually smelled of something sweet—cinnamon or cream. And perhaps this is my downfall…the point where dreams and reality blend together sensuously…I am thankful that my dreams have evolved from the adolescent fantasties to dreams of a woman, which is why I ams moaning when I felt my mattress dip under someone’s weight.

“Hey, Mario Lopez, finally tired of being anti-social?” Mario was my black and white, 2-year old cat I found abandoned in a bookstore. How he got there, I never knew. I pause, stretching, before rising on my elbows, staring.

I meet the dark, hazy-like star of blue eyes. Though, the person is a silhouette in darkness, I stupidly blink, my breath catches in my throat. “Ravyn…?”

The silhouette bends forward, and yes, it is my Irish, raven-haired, blue-eyed best friend Ravyn. He sits himself comfortably on the bed before giving me a lopsided grin, his eyes taking me in. “I told you I’d be over, didn’t I? But I was so looking forward to that come fuck me now sign.”

I swallow, and blink—stupidly—again. I knew I recognized that voice1 He barely spoke with his tilting accent, and when he did that, gave that look, he always—always got the girl. Suddenly, us sitting here together didn’t seem so innocent, and neither did that dark look in his eye. I was aroused, nipples heavy, and straining through the thin shirt, and his eyes purposely focused there. Before I can react, he is on me, his member hard and big against my thigh. It didn’t exactly help that he smells like chocolate.

“ Ravyn?” I whisper, hating the fact that my voice was so breathless, and realizing how close his lips were. If I angle my head slightly, and if his wicked lips tilted diown slightly, we’d kiss. Did I really want that? The answer was yes. But could I easily blame that on the bit of (actually it was four glass full) wine?

Funny, at an odd time like this I realized my favorite pick-up line: I’m horny, you’re horny, let’s do it.

I was hungry for chocolate.

I was hungry for Ravyn.

I was horny.

But he’s engaged.

“ Yes, Aubrey?”

My lips tremble. Calling Ravyn was a bad idea. The room is too hot. I close my eyes and feel Ravyn shift, his length—against my burning womanhood. I close my eyes tighter when I felt Ravyn’s weight draw back and lean forward. He’s rocking against me.

I moan quitely.

“ Yes, Aubrey?” Ravyn repeats, taunting.

“ Do you consider chocolate naughty…or nice?”

He leans forward and his lips are against my ear. “ Both.” He replies. His hand moved higher and rests on my breast. I gasp, moan, and open my eyes.

“ Do you trust me, Aubrey?”

“ Yes.”

“ Then tell me,” he squeeze my breast and I jump at the sudden touch, “ do you want me to stop?”

I whimper.

“ Yes or no?”

“ Yes or no,” he confirms.

“ Don’t…” I don’t know what to say. ‘Don’t do it’, or ‘don’t stop’.

His lips move to my collar bone where they lightly brush me. His hand moves from my breast and lifts my shirt over my belly-button. “ Don’t what?” He stops abruptly.

“ Don’t stop, damn it!” My eyes widen, and I gasp. I didn’t mean to say that. “Ravyn, we can’t do this, you’re engaged.”

He continues as if he doesn’t hear me. “There are rules to this. Can you follow rules Aubrey?”

I nod my head. I don’t give a damn about rules. I am tired of my damn virginity…but didn’t friends always get weird after they slept together? I wasn’t that drunk, but I was horny and in serious need of chocolate. Screw chocolate, I had a stronger desire for Ravyn than chocolate. But enough to jeopardize his relationship with what’s her face.

“ The rules are for you not to say a word. I am in control.You’ll obey my every word. Understand?”

I nod my head again. “Ravyn, what about her?”

He stares at me a moment longer, before that famous half-smirk tugged at his lips. “What about her?” He lets his hand grip my shirt, and yanks it off my body so fast I barely felt the loss of its warmth. I flush as his lust-filled eyes ravish my breasts. I know they are large, but still…my breath hitches in my throat. He just sits there, innocently, but I know there is nothing innocent about that…incubus. I lay there waiting as he continues to look at them as if he'd never seen any before (but I knew he's seen plenty). I am ready...and he just sits there. My hot blush quickly turns into anger, and I struggle to get up.

He pulls me back down. Prick!

I grab his black shirt and tug—hard—and head the fabric rip tensely in the silence. Before my eyes, I see his firm and sculpted chest glisten in the shifting candlelight and the happy trail leading to his lower half. He wore neither pants nor boxers, he had clearly removed them before-hand. The only thing that separates our bodies is my sexy and brazen ‘Lucky You’ lingerie bottoms.

My hands follow the path my eyes made from his face—chiseled with manly and god-like perfection—to his torso, and finally his manhood. My hand close over him and the gentle and curious touch sent electricity shocking through both of us. He hiss and groan, and I gaspeas I felt him pulse and twitch in my hand. I look…oddly at the organ that protruded from a nest of dark raven curls.

He leans forward, and I wait patiently.