When you own your own business, you can close up shop whenever the mood hits. Amber was all too glad to do that for the ultimate date. She hadn’t seen Jason for so long, and she wanted everything to be perfect, from the food to the blush and bashful polish on her toes—pink and pink, in other words. Her mother stole the phrase from Steel Magnolias, but nothing about that evening was going to include her mother. She had done enough damage by listening to Detroit’s mouth of the century—Cassie Morgan. No, tonight belonged to her and Jason.
Before getting home, she picked up a package of crab legs and a bottle of Chianti for a meal prepared for a king, her king. People came from miles around for Amber’s grilled crab legs, and the butter—God, the butter! Melted down to perfection and seasoned with lemon juice, garlic and onion powder with a pinch of Cajun seasoning. Amber knew if the meal couldn’t trap his ass, nothing would. However, that was her least concern. From her kiss alone, he was hooked like a giant swordfish.
As the crab legs cooked to tenderness, Amber showered in her favorite shower gel, Pheromone, savoring it and letting it drench her body in all the perfect places, all the places she hoped Jason would conquer again, starting south, working his way north, with a lingering visit midway! Yes, the thought of Jason touching any part of her body sent her on a physical journey that had bypassed any trip previously taken. That included anything Maurice tried doing to her—poorly.
The messy crab legs would ruin a dress, so she decided on a tight pair of jeans and a clingy T-shirt with the silhouette of a black cat stretched across the breasts. The damn thing would meow like crazy after being stretched by her voluptuous breasts. After she put the shirt on, she stood before the mirror, smiling at how it stood out against perky bosoms. “Yeah, he’ll love this since he’s a breast man, anyway!”
By seven, everything was done. There was a nice Caesar salad awaiting him, buttered rolls, and of course, the crab legs. For dessert, her. If that was too presumptuous, there was always the key lime pie she bought. Looked good as hell, but she knew she tasted better than a store-bought pie. After fixing the table with her best silverware and china, with the crab basket in the middle, she lit a Blue Nile incense in the living room, ready for a perfect evening with a perfect man.
Seven-fifteen on the dot, Jason’s Cadillac bounced into her driveway. She was rocking to the sounds of Unwrapped’s “Tupac Tribute Medley”—a total jam to get up and boogie to, but she decided to stay on the sofa and let him ring the bell two times. After all, she didn’t want to seem too anxious, despite the fact that all she wanted to do was swing the door open and jump him. Not sophisticated enough.
On the second ring, she was on it! When she opened the door, she was nice and calm, smiling at the sight of him and relieved that he’d actually showed up. “Jason, you’re just in time. The crab legs and rolls are almost done.”
He stepped inside, toting a bottle of wine and something else in a pretty, lavender bag. “Crab legs? Really? I love those things. Good thing I dressed for the occasion. Seems you’re dressed for it, too.”
She smoothed her hands across the tight-fitting top, making damn sure her breasts were accentuated. “These old things. I just threw them on so as not to ruin a dress.”
His eyes slowly scanned her super-shapely form. “You look good, girl; good enough to eat. Forget the crab legs. And I’ve got just the thing for that top.”
“Really? What?”
Amber watched him walk across the room sporting his own pair of tight jeans and a grass-green polo, one that showed hints of muscles everywhere on him. He was strong, lean, and stacked, everything she liked in a man, everything that made her drool. She knew by the end of the evening she’d need a bib. So would he, if she had things her way.
Before that evening, the only thing she’d seen him in were dress slacks, nice business shirts, and, oh yes, his own flesh. Yum! However, his casual appearance was something she could definitely get used to.
He sat down on the sofa, spread his thighs apart, and patted them. “Come on, sugar. Let me give you what that kitty shirt needs.”
Amber proceeded to sit next to him, but in one movement, he hoisted her into his lap. Their faces were so close together that she could see tiny, dark brown freckles on his face, something she hadn’t seen before, something that made him sexier—always something more to discover on him. A thin film of sweat formed above his stripe of a moustache, which she proceeded to kiss.
“Hold on, Amber. Let me give you what you need to really set you off.” He pulled an orchid corsage from the lavender bag. “All beautiful women need flowers. I thought about a rose, but that’s too typical. You need something exotic.”
“I love orchids.”
“You are an orchid, and I’d love to smell you every day.” Jason grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, tossing the garment to the chair across the room.
“Jason, what are you doing?”
“Putting the flower where it needs to be.” He pinned the flower to her bra strap, then squeezed both breasts together, staring down at the plump mounds with wide eyes. “Girl, my nose is so wide open for you that I can smell chicken frying in a kitchen somewhere in lower Ohio.”
Giggling at his response, she said, “Where in hell do you come up with this stuff?”
“It’s easy when I’m around you. I damn near went crazy those weeks not being with you.”
“Can’t have that, can we?”
Their lips met in passionate waves of desire, nibbling, sucking, gently pulling. His tongue circled hers, dipping into corners that missed him so much. His hands moved up and down the softness of her back and sides, toying with her bra, wanting to snap it apart but not wanting to spoil her excellent evening by moving too fast. Judging from the aromas coming from her kitchen, he knew she’d gone out of her way to cook something grand for him. Had he taken that bra apart, dinner wouldn’t have mattered to him anymore. He’d have been too willing and ready to eat her in luscious tongue strokes all over her body. The idea of touching her pristine body in such erotic ways almost made him let go, saturating his pants to the max. With her, he couldn’t help it. Just hearing her name made his body react in ways no other woman had ever inspired. For the time being, he settled for a sensational kiss, drawing from her well of desire as much as possible while his hips rocked to her rhythm.
Amber could feel the power in his kiss and in his hip movements. He drained her every time his thick, wild erection pressed against her fragile, soaking-wet core. She briefly thought back on the first time she saw him, having not seen a man that pretty before. She was stunned, awe struck, but knew someone like him could never be in her life. No one as fine as Jason ever gave her the time of day, other than that sickening Maurice. That was then. Now the unthinkable was in her arms and delighting her senses with every kind of excitement imaginable.
She continued to move against him, rock to his flow, and kiss him in ways she’d only seen done in erotic movies. The heat and friction were so powerful that she took his hand, placed it against her throbbing crotch, and let him rock her.
For Jason, that wasn’t enough. He had to feel the real heat, stoke the real fire. He slid her zipper down, quickly found that throbbing G-spot, and massacred it. It hummed proudly for him before exploding. He bucked a little, enticing her with words he only used with Amber. “Do it, girl; drip all over me.” He felt her tension release, squeezing his fingers within her pleasure spot. He looked into her flushed face in amazement, his voice soft and withered. “What do you do to me, girl?”
“Everything you want me to.”
He fingered the now-crushed orchid. “I’m afraid I crushed your flower.”
“Let’s set it in a plate of water. I wanna keep it forever, as a token of you.”
“A token of my love for you.”
Jason saw the immaculate kitchen with a perfectly set table. “I’ve got a good idea.”
Amber turned in time to see him stretch the polo over his head, showcasing pecs and ripples to slaughter for. “Why are you taking your clothes off?”
“My idea, have a picnic in the middle of your bed. We can spread a blanket over the bed, sit in the middle of it, and get just as wet and greasy as possible. For dessert—massage in the oil and have a funky good time. Sound good?”
“Only if you pour the Chianti.”
He grabbed the Chianti, a shitload of crab legs, and followed her into the bedroom.
Sitting in the middle of the bed on a blanket with crab legs and wine never felt so appetizing. She did that all the time, but being almost naked and sitting across from a bare-chested Jason took everything to a new level. As promised, they got as greasy, sticky, and juicy as they could.
In the background, The Lover was playing on Amber’s VCR, left over from the night before when she fell asleep to it. Watching it now would completely set the mood, help hot love scenes of their own to come to fruition. Jason started the game after dinner, smearing more of the leftover butter sauce across Amber’s nipples and aggressively sucking it off.
She giggled at his advances. “Don’t you want to watch the movie?”
“I want to do exactly what they’re doing, but more, so much more, Amber. Get what I’m saying?”
Amber seductively smeared the runny butter across her warm flesh, feeling it trickle across her body, drain down, and saturate all the right areas. She patted the pillow next to her. “I get it, baby. Better yet, I’d like to get it, and in just the way they’re doing it.”
Both briefly looked at the TV screen, seeing the actors making love in an art form so poetic, so artistic that Amber and Jason were enticed to go beyond, way beyond anything any Hollywood cameras could capture. And doing it their way was the only way to get things done in her bedroom.
As Amber laid back to accept him, he climbed aboard, straddling her, forcing her to stare up at the massive bulge pressing against his zipper. Nervous excitement warmed her hands as she pressed against a clothed rod seemingly the length of her arm, wanting only to peel off his pants.
Jason was no help. His words beckoned her, encouraging her. “Slide it down, baby, and take it.” He massaged her buttery breasts, taking them into his hands, rolling his thumb across the hardened buds, loving the sight of her back arching to him. The more he massaged her breasts, the more she rubbed his crotch, creating friction, heat against her palms. He stiffened within her grasp, allowing the feel of intense pressure aching to be set free. She felt his form, the tip of an erection so ready to plow through her that it felt rock hard.
That’s what she wanted, and that’s what she got. Hurried fingers slid the burning zipper down, inching closer to desire that was only a slice of material away. Her anticipation for him was so great that she could barely breathe. She exposed his taut thighs, sliding his jeans to his knees. Unexpected words escaped: “I want more, Jason.”
“Then take it.” He lifted the band of his Jockeys, reached inside, and stroked himself, squinting his eyes to the idea of those fingers being hers. He replaced his hands with hers as they both slid his underwear down.
Outstretched to her was a phallus so hard for her that it was pumping, moving on its own from desire. God, he was so beautiful, every part of him, from his hair to the purplish tip of an erection that could, did, split her in two. The feel of him in her hands tightened her core, doubling the intensity of her arousal. Her whisper-soft voice called to him. “Now, Jason. Now. I need it. I need it hard, hot, and raw, every single inch.”
“You do, indeed, but you need it my way.” With her hands still wrapped around his throbbing shaft, he reached for the rest of the butter and handed her the tiny dish. “Drip it on, slowly. Cover every inch and suck me the way you did those crab legs. Girl, you sucked that meat out so good that I almost came from the sight of it.”
“Was it that good for you?”
“Not as good as what I want now. Pour it on and annihilate me.”
The first drop of butter gave him a buzz and he wanted to let loose on the still-warm butter, but needed to give his Amber something real. Yes, she was definitely his, wanting to explore wild and exotic venues the way he never thought to with another female. Amber took his mind on a journey south of the border, and his body straight to Erotic City!
The butter dripped across his shaft as Amber, with haste, rubbed it in, paying attention to every vein and ripple before working her way back to a demanding tip. Her slippery, butter-soaked fingers played in his center, forcing moisture from it, wanting to taste his nectar once again. Her excitement rose, making her body writhe for him, making already hot nipples feverish.
Jason’s feather touch across her cheek barely took her attention. “You want it, baby, don’t you? Talk to me.”
“I can’t talk, Jason, just give it to me.”
“Take what you need; suck me dry and drain me, girl.”
He leaned forward above her, bracing his hands on either side of her head and positioned a super-fine, juicy ten-incher at her lips. The buttered tip played at her lips, and he smiled at her enjoyment. “Claim what’s yours.”
Amber wanted him so badly that her cheeks caved in from each stroke; taking him in, sliding all of him against and down her throat. Looking up and seeing his hips thrusting against her was but another dream come true. The man she knew she loved was loving her back, not hovering above some lake sporting a diamond. He was really there with her, and she took full advantage until she literally felt like bursting from need of another type of satisfaction. Those pleading, needing words briefly forced her lips away from him. “Now, Jason. Now!”
At her very command, he pulled back, stood from the bed to rid his jeans and hers. With longing, lust, and love in his eyes, he mounted his angel, kissed her soft lips once again, then slowly fed inches upon inches into an open, dripping well. Thighs soon wrapped high around his body, giving him the warmest, most incredible feeling he’d ever had. Suddenly, nothing was more important in life than taking Amber to new heights. And with that in mind, he rocked her, pumped and pulsated so deeply within her that he felt crazy. Yet, he continued, staring down into a face so pristine and perfect that sex alone couldn’t have accounted for it. She was naturally beautiful.
Amber’s screams set him off. Feeling her hands all over his body, including his scrotum, made him pump harder. Hearing his name being called with his primal, thunderous thrusts destroyed his sanity, and he delivered, over and over, rocking her steadily until both were too exhausted to know their own names.
Jason collapsed on top of her.
For Amber, the heavens opened then. Jason belonged there with her, in the intimacy of her bedroom. Her home was really a home, now.
Late the following morning, Amber rolled over to an empty pillow. She could smell him, smell their lovemaking in the air, but where was he? In the past, her first instinct was to assume their good thing was now gone. But there was something in Jason’s eyes last night that told her he was hers, for real and forever…yeah, right. She told herself not to be so romantic—then saw a folded piece of paper sitting on top of the television. Amber quickly opened it, reading the brief note. Meet me at two. 1306 Lafayette . I’ve got the ultimate surprise for you. I love you, baby. Signed, your man.
Yeah, like he hadn’t already given her the ultimate surprise weeks ago and again last night. Lafayette, though? What was down there other than the downtown district? A special lunch maybe? For the next hour, the only thing that occupied her mind was seeing Jason again, not his surprise for her, not anything except seeing him.