Page 27 of Lavish Loving

“Great choice.”

She heard fingers popping, smiled when she saw the lights dim. The teapot hissed, mimicking the heat London felt between her legs. She dressed the tea just the way she liked it and hoped Ace would, too. After unwrapping the other caramel ingredient, she picked up the mugs and edged toward the living room to peep Ace’s location. He sat on the couch, head bobbing. She imagined his eyes closed. Perfect. Her stilettos made soft clicks against the hardwood floor as she walked into the room.


He slowly lifted and turned his head, then jerked his whole body around. “London!”

“What?” She continued toward him, completely naked except for the heels.

“What is this?”

She placed the mugs on the table and climbed on Ace’s lap. He was too shocked to move. It was exactly as she’d expected and hoped. She then reached around for one of the mugs. “It’s cinnamon tea with a caramel twist.”

“The caramel being you?”

“Some of it. Here. Taste.”

“London…”

“Shh. Just taste it.”

He blew on the hot concoction, then took a sip. “It’s delicious.”

She set down the cup. “Now, taste this.”

Her head lowered. She placed determined lips over his, swallowed his objection and felt a part of Ace’s anatomy coming out of shock. A slow grinding of her hips encouraged this unruly member to keep doing what came naturally.

“London, stop…” An objection, true enough, but without much conviction.

She outlined his lips with her tongue, slid it to the earlobe she remembered as sensitive and swirled it inside.

“You know we can’t do this,” he whispered, even as his hands slowly, almost begrudgingly, came up and cupped her booty.

“We can, and we should,” she whispered. Running her hands across his chest, she bypassed the buttons on his shirt and went straight for the belt buckle. Who knew how long the shock would last? She reached back for the packet she’d set next to her mug. “I promise to give you Clarisse Alana tomorrow,” she said, ripping open the packaging with her teeth and retrieving its contents. “Let me be London tonight.”

He’d been stiff, guarded, but either at her request or the sound of foil being torn, his body relaxed. Strong thighs that could have made him a star of track and field as well as the runway lifted them both up slightly, enough for him to slide the slacks down and expose a pair of the underwear he’d made famous.

London didn’t hesitate. Her body already thrumming, her folds already slick with anticipation, she reached between her legs, slipped the condom around his missile, and guided it home. With a sigh, Ace leaned toward the nipple within sight and gently pulled it into his mouth. He placed his hands around London’s taut waist and aided her exuberant ride. Up. Down. Swirl. Grind. The connection was electric. Their sexes were a perfect fit. Both had been without it for too long. When London’s pants increased and soft oohs spilled from her mouth, Ace put those thigh muscles to work, repeatedly tapped her hot spot and sent them both over the edge.

Ace had barely stopped pulsating before lifting London off his lap and into his arms. He stood. “Where’s the bedroom?”

“Upstairs. But that’s okay. I’ll wash off in a bit.”

“Wash off? Do you think this is over? You started this, London, against my wishes. Now I’m going to finish it.”

Several positions and a few hours later, Ace had done just that.

The next morning found the two lovebirds totally satiated, sexually satisfied and absolutely starved. London went downstairs and pulled a menu from one of several kept in a kitchen drawer. An hour later the table was laden with enough food to feed a family: blueberry waffles, turkey bacon, pork sausage, scrambled eggs, English muffins, hash browns and, for Ace, a pot of coffee, piping hot.

“Food’s here!”

Ace ambled down the stairs, his hair still damp, body fresh from the shower. At London’s suggestion he’d scrounged through drawers and closets and found a black button-up and a pair of black jeans. He looked like what he was: model, lover, boss, conducting business on his cell phone as he entered the room. London had put her freshly washed hair up into a ponytail and pulled on a halter-style minidress. She had no idea whether it belonged to her sister, Teresa, or one of her brothers’ ex-lovers. Whoever it was she thanked them. It was cute, loose and comfortable, and since she wore no underwear, it would provide quick and easy access to what she hoped for—another lovemaking round.

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