Chapter 2: Midday and Chocolate
....absolutely vibrating with anticipation.
I was a complete spaz at work. My brain was on him, not my job, and that didn't help me come up with new and zippysnappypoppy advertisements, at all. This was all insane. I didn't even know this man – had barely even had a full conversation with him – and here, now, I couldn't take my mind off him.
…How his fingers felt on my skin.
…The briny taste of his shoulder, slick from rain and sweat in my mouth.
…The mind-numbing feel of him inside me.
"Bella, what the fuck is up?" hissed the only other Account Manager besides myself. After I'd stared at the Photoshop window on my laptop, gazing at the white and grey checkered boxes, obviously others started to notice.
Alice snapped her tiny fingers in front of my face, whispering, "Bella. Snap the fuck out of it. Victoria is on a rampage this week with this new campaign. You have got to get it together. Now, what the fuck is up with you?"
I looked at her: her jet black hair, short spikes jutting out in all directions in back, juxtaposed with the slick electric blue stripes of her side bang swooping across her forehead. How do you tell your best friend that you've had the best sex of your life, complete with multiple orgasms, with a stranger whose last name you don't even know and now? How do you explain that you can't focus because your thighs keep squeezing together just from thinking about him?
I needed him.
Three days was too long. I wasn't sure why I'd allowed so many days to pass without seeing him again. Better yet, I didn't know how I'd even been able to stand it. I guessed I was too chicken shit to go knocking on his door. What would I say exactly?
'Er, excuse me Jacob (insert unknown last name here), that sex was the most toe-curling experience of my life and, well, I wanted to know if we could do it again, like, now?'
Not so much.
I looked at the clock; fifteen minutes until lunch.
Maybe he'd be home. He was a freelance writer, so, it wasn't like he had a typical 9-to-5.
Maybe he'd take mercy on me.
Maybe he was losing his shit after our sex as much as I was.
Minutes later, after I'd assured Alice that I was fine and blamed my spaciness on PMS and too much caffeine, I jumped from my chair with my keys in-hand. My Prius flew the ten minute drive it took to return home, and I crept down the hall to find the door to Jacob's house slightly cracked. I paused, and then pushed it open to find him sitting with his laptop resting in his lap, tapping away at the keys.
He glanced up at me, expectantly. His eyes softened, almost like he'd been waiting on my arrival. Then he moved his laptop to the space on the pricey-looking brown leather sofa beside him.
"Hey," he almost whispered.
"Hey," I parroted.
I crossed the distance between us in a moment, stopping to stand directly in front of him. I had no clue what I was doing, or if he wanted me even a fraction as much as I wanted him. All I knew was that I had to throw myself out there, go for broke, and hope that he'd reciprocate.
His eyes twinkled mischievously, though, not a feature on his face moved.
Expressive.
He slid to the edge of the sofa, until his face was just inches from me, and waited a moment, as if he were looking for any signal – any sign – that I didn't want this. When he received none, he buried his face in my abdomen, inhaling deeply.
Oh god...
My body ached for him, and I dug my fingers into his gorgeous hair, which, even from where I stood, smelled of myrrh and clove. I clutched him close to me, and we paused, breathed, and the feeling was so intensely intimate.
He looked up at me, sliding his fingertips over my sandaled feet. His hands ghosted over my ankle, up the curve of my calves, to the backs of my knees, and then thighs, and I gasped. The wetness was already there, pooling, and waiting for his touch.
His hands traveled higher still, caressing and squeezing my thighs until he met the warm, dampened lace of my white thong. I didn't move, not a muscle, awaiting his next move with excitement. He stroked there - stroked - until I was breathless.
He paused, one hand holding the curve of my hip and the other looping fingers under the thin strap, and pulled them down in one quick motion. I cried out at the feel of the fabric being snatched so abruptly from me, causing an immediate reaction and quiver over my throbbing clit. Instead of dropping them on the floor, or even throwing them across the room, he pocketed them. I was sure I would explode.
He bent and grabbed my ankles, yanking my feet apart. I whimpered his name, wobbling before finally catching my balance.
He slid his palms up my calves, next my thighs, and then finally met with my quivering pussy. He caressed me there, just along the lips, toying with me and fanning the flames. But then, he went deeper.
"I have to...I have to go back to work...lunch," I muttered as his fingers began pumping into me, a muted sloshing noise filling the air.
He shushed me, distracted, and I felt myself drawn into the rhythm of his fingers inside me: pumping, then swirling around my clit …pumping, then clit. He whispered, "Feel good?"
"So good...so fucking good..." I responded, needing to steady myself with my palms on his shoulders.
His lips fell open, but he never took his eye off me – not for a second, even when he slid his fingers out of me to taste them, before quickly returning to my clit. I moaned and begged him to somehow put me out of my misery.
"...Oh, Jacob...so good..."
"...Good..." he murmured, as I felt the beginnings of the waves take over my body, panting and moaning. I could barely remain standing in front of him.
He pulled his fingers from my body again and my closed eyes snapped open to meet his, dark and dangerous gaze- like I was his defenseless prey. He leaned back, and I could see the large outline of his cock pressed against the sweatpants he wore, stiff and ready. I'd made him like that. I was doing that to him.
I reached down, unable to help myself. It was a thing of beauty to be admired and loved. I slid those pants over his hips and he used the back of the sofa for leverage as he lifted to assist me. He reached behind his head, pulling the tank from his body, and every inch of his copper skin sat there, exposed and beautiful.
He grabbed the backs of my thighs, pulling me forward, until I bent my knees and straddled him. Just as my mouth met his, tasting his deliciously sweet hot mouth, I glanced at the wall clock.
I'll have to make this quick.
I yanked my fitted black skirt to my waist, and took the length of him, rubbing the head over my clit: back, forth, slick, and slippery, mixing with the excitement from both of our bodies. He groaned my name, a plea to sit on his cock, and I obliged him. I finally positioned the thick head just so, and then sank down onto him, bouncing lightly, until his dick was coated sufficiently and I slickly rose back up.
I moaned into his mouth as his fingers arched, locking under my arms and over my shoulders pressing me harder and deeper onto his cock. I could feel every inch of him. As we began moving against each other, moaning and panting, that flint, the spark, stirred inside me.
"Fuck, Bella....God..."
My hips moved, grinding, gliding back and forth on him, while I frantically attempting to get us both off quickly. He was making it so hard for me, though. He tried to slow my hips with his hands on my waist, and milled into me so deeply it was almost immobilizing.
I pushed him flush with the sofa and away from my body. He gripped my hips tighter, squeezing and guiding them over him, again and again. I felt the fire burning brighter, more intensely inside. I clung to his shoulders like they were the only things tethering me to the earth, as I fell over the edge and the shivers overtook me, once more.
He held me, pressing my body forward, which set off another orgasm within me. His hold became tighter, his rhythm more frantic, until he jerked and I felt him surge inside me. At the same time, his teeth bit my right nipple through my blouse.
Our breathing slowed, and I tore my eyes away from his to look at the clock, again.
Fuck.
"I gotta go...work," I said breathlessly. He grasped me firmer, and I knew he didn't want me to leave; he didn't want to let me go. I didn't want to leave either, but I pleaded with my eyes.
"Don't worry." I kissed him once more and I rushed to his bathroom to clean up.
"Soon," he promised. Then he kissed me deeply, taking my breath away before I jetted back to the office, already fifteen minutes late.
"Yeah, so, his name is Jacob," I said, stabbing at a cherry tomato in my salad. After over a week of hot, spontaneous romps with him, I thought it was about time I shared this new development with her. Alice had all but stopped everything she'd been doing to gawk at me with her perfect mouth forming an 'O,' and her eyes widening.
"What?" I questioned.
"What, Bella? What?! You tell me this sex god comes and fucks you blind, and I'm supposed to… what?"
"You don't have to do anything at all, Ally. I just..." I searched for a piece of grilled chicken, hoping that I wouldn't have to look at her again, because the redness had long-since spread across my cheeks. "I just wanted to let you know why I've been acting so insane, lately."
"Oooooh, Bella. You've got it bad. Bad!" she mocked, laughing. "So, have you guys, like, been on a date yet?" She leaned forward, glancing around. "Wait, wait. Before you tell me about all the boring details, tell me how big his cock is again."
"Ally!" I was mortified. This was the most horrid thing I'd done in my relatively humdrum existence. And, outside of Alice's insistence on telling me every little detail of her and her fiancé, Jasper's, very active sex life, my world was pretty vanilla.
"Well, Bella, you've already told me everything else and, from what I can tell, you need to ride this thing out – milk it for all its worth...Pun intended."
"You're disgusting, Mary Alice."
"...And you're a slut, Isabella." She smirked.
I could smell the buttery chocolate aroma as soon as I'd hit our floor. It was amazing, and chocolate had been my favorite for as long as I could remember. Where the hell was that coming from? I stopped to gather my stack of mail and lock the mailbox, shifting my graffiti-covered laptop bag over my shoulder. I entered the elevator, and then exited to my floor when it stopped. The smell became stronger the closer I got to his door.
4A
The door was slightly ajar. My heart jumped and butterflies swarmed in my stomach. This had been the pattern from the beginning.
…Had been the pattern for last two weeks.
He was waiting for me. It wasn't a coincidence. The latch wasn't broken. It was an invitation. I silently thanked God, again, that I'd had the foresight to wear my sexy pink lace bra and bikini set.
He'd love it.
I smoothed my hair and popped out a stick of lip gloss, before pushing open his door. I walked through his neat apartment like second nature. The lights were dimmed. Only the faint sound of motion in the kitchen and the television in his bedroom with the volume turned low could be heard.
Finally, I saw him. I didn't know what I expected. Coming here was always a surprise.
Sometimes he'd be naked; sometimes in the shower or casually lounging on his bed. Today, though, he had never looked sexier.
Well, save for that rain thing. That shit was epic.
He stood there, peering into a pot on the stove, carefully stirring, and then fiddling with the knobs. He was so distracted - so...beautiful – as his face frowned in concentration. His jeans hung dangerously low on his hips, the black classic Deadhead shirt he wore sinfully hugging his body, and he was casually barefoot. His hair looked slightly damp and I quickly wondered if he'd just showered.
The thought of him in a shower, again… Well, that was beyond sinful.
"Hello there," he said, not looking up from the pot. How the hell did he know I was here?
"...Hi," I squeaked. He removed the pot from the burner, clicked the eye off, and turned to me, finally, with those eyes.
"Come taste this."
My body ached, and my feet were moving toward him of their own volition. Before I knew it, I was standing before him, every part of me alive, needy, and painfully throbbing with every breath.
"...Is it chocolate? …Because it drifted to the hallway and smelled amazing."
Instead of a reply, he dipped a finger in the cooling pot, coating it with the dark syrup, and lifted it to my lips. I parted them, and then sucked his finger into my mouth. It was delicious, just melting onto my tongue. It was perfect, buttery and silky, and I tasted just a hint of rum. I had to pause, briefly, to get my bearings.
"Oh my god, Jacob..."
"I know, right?" He purred with a wicked smile, "Good?"
"Better than good," I answered. He turned to dip his finger, again.
"Can I...have a taste?"
I coughed, trying to find my voice. I barely whispered, "Yes."
He smiled, again, his eyes darkening, and offered his finger to me. I took it, wrapping my lips around, sucking and licking eagerly. He slipped it out with a slick pop, and covered my mouth with his in a leisurely, sensual kiss, that nearly drove me insane. His fingertips skated up, cupping the side of my head, just at the nape of my neck, as his teasing lips and tongue languorously slid against mine. I squeezed my eyes shut, allowing my own hands to roam up his ribs, stoking the muscles crossing his abdomen.
I hummed into his mouth when he pulled me closer, never parting our lips. In a moment, my slacks fell with a swish to the ground, as did my blouse. He paused to look at my body, appreciatively, and said something in a sing-songy language I assumed was his native. Whatever it was, it sounded vulgar, and made me a bit wetter than I already was.
I slipped my fingers along the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, and his hair fell in disheveled layers around his shoulders. I pulled his jeans open, finding nothing but his naked body beneath, to my delight. My panties were gone in the next second, and my bra unlatched and on the floor, right after that.
He lifted me, with no effort, onto the kitchen table, which I discovered was pretty damn sturdy. He parted my knees, and pulled a chair directly in front of me, sitting and looking at my pink folds like it was the most beautiful thing he'd laid eyes on. He widened my thighs a bit more, running a finger between my lips. Then, pressing two inside me, he leaned forward, and licked the place his fingers had just been. He lapped greedily, and then finally rested along my clit, placing tight circles there.
"Oh...Jacob." I moaned. At that moment, I caught a glimpse of our reflection in the kitchen window to the left of me. Our bodies looked so hot – so beautiful together.
My back arched against the intense pleasure he was eliciting from my body. My thighs parted, his head sinking further between them and bobbing as he worked against me with his tongue. He reached up and held my breasts in each hand, skimming my nipples between his fingers, while never taking his mouth away from my clit.
It was all enough to bring me over the edge and I writhed, moaned, and gyrated my hips against his skillful tongue. He mumbled something that I couldn't understand, and then slowed to a stop, just as I was on the verge of the peak brought on by his mouth. I snapped my head up, eyes dropping from the ceiling to meet his, which staring back, darkly.
"Watch me, Bella," he whispered. Then, he snaked his tongue back to my body, adding more focused pressure to my clit, and slid his long fingers further inside me, curling them...curling them deep, beckoning me, pulling me all in one rhythmic climb.
"Ohhhh, fuck..." I rocked my hips along his fingers, meeting each thrust forward with my body, "...Oh, God..."
...And I was falling, tightening over his fingers, vibrating under his tongue, and moaning his name. I felt the gush of wetness pooling between my thighs, as I shook under his touch. He slowed his mouth to a stop, and pulled his fingers from me. Then, he stood, his cock stiff and proud, and just inches from where I needed him.
He ran his hands up and down the length of my body, my neck, and down my nipples, pausing there to lick and suck them until I was whimpering and begging. His mouth continued to the curve of my hip. He took his cock in his hand and, after seeing at the pained expression in his eyes, I knew neither of us could stand it for even a second longer.
I pushed my hips closer to him, grabbing for his body, and he bent to place a hard open-mouthed kiss on my lips as he eased into me. His fingers gripped the edge of table for leverage while he pumped into me. I couldn't help threading my fingers in that hair.
He was beautiful. The muscles of his chest and abdomen tightened with every inward push, focused and steady. This was different. It wasn't frantic; it was methodical, and I could feel every ridge, and swell of him stroking me – making me feel so much fuller than any other time.
He stared into my eyes, his jaw tight, and I moaned. I moaned loud and long.
Shortly, just after our bodies had formed a thin sheen of sweat, he gently pushed me onto my back and gripped his hands under my knees, lifting them to his shoulders. He tightly held my waist with one hand, while rubbing my clit with the other. Following, he hissed through clenched teeth, clasping my hips with more force, each plunge boring deeper, until he was biting his bottom lip.
"Fuck..." he whispered, leaning his body over mine until my thighs where almost at my chest. After crushing his mouth to mine, he steadied his palms on the table, at each of my sides, stopping my body from rocking against his deep thrusts.
"...Oh Jacob...Oh, fuck..." I moaned feeling the surge and contractions begin. He kept his pace, muffling my cries with his mouth and massaging my tongue. My body dripped with sweat, covering my bouncing breasts.
"...I can feel you," he murmured, "Come on, Bella. Cum with me." His voice was like honey, smooth, sweet, and delicious, enveloping every cell in my body, as I came.
I came so hard, panting his name and curling my nails into his ribs, that parts of wanted to slap him and kiss him, all at once.
"Shit..." he ground out. He was squeezing his eyes closed, gripping my thighs, and biting the fleshy skin at the side of my bent knee as I felt the pulsing heat and wetness inside me.
He carefully let my thighs down, both of us catching our breath. I rose to my elbows, looking at this beautiful man who had just taken my body places it had never been before. Then he turned to me, and quirked his eyebrow.
"Have you eaten?"
I smiled as we both reached for our clothing. I opted for sliding into his t-shirt, which reached just past my thighs, and my panties. He pulled on his jeans and walked over to something I hadn't noticed earlier that was covered in aluminum foil.
"No. I had a long day at work and haven't even been to my apartment yet."
"Well, we can't have that," he said, finally stepping toward me and placing a peck on my lips. "I made lasagna and...You've already seen what I made for dessert." I blushed, and his eyes softened as he bent to kiss me again. I was speechless.
Wait...HE COOKS TOO???
Ok. So, he's intelligent, hotter than should be legal, has a cock the size of two Pepsi cans stacked on top of each other and knows what to do with it, and he COOKS?
He'd won all around on personal attribute day in heaven.
"Wine?" He asked me, turning away.
"You have white?"
"I have a little white and some good red," he said, while peering into his refrigerator, and then above it at his wine rack with several bottles of red wine. "I got this red in South Africa about a year ago; I hear it's very spicy. I've been saving it for a special occasion, such as this."
"Well, let's have that then." I was in the twilight zone, being swept up in his gaze, and smile, and voice all at once.
Who was this man?
…This man who had just fucked me senseless and was now inviting me to drink wine at the scene of said fuck.
I suddenly wanted to know everything about him.
What were his wants and desires? What were his goals for life? Was he close to his parents? Shit, what was his last name?
He eased the corkscrew in, twisting it with practiced ease, and then pushed down on the levers. He peered into his cabinet for the appropriate glass, poured the mahogany liquid, and set it before me on the table. I smiled and took the delicate glass between my fingers, pausing to smell it. It was heavenly, and woodsy.
He stood there, waiting for me to taste, which I did, and fell in love. I pinched my eyes shut, swirling the fluid around in my mouth, and then swallowed, nodding my head in approval.
He nodded his head as well, elated. Then he grinned, and poured himself a glass, before turning to prepare our plates.
His eggplant lasagna was amazing. Said it was something he picked up travelling with a Sicilian writer friend of his while he trekked through Europe, earlier this year. Everything about him intrigued me, from the tribal masks hanging from his walls, to the way he pursed his lips in thought, and even the way he'd savagely stab away at pieces of food on his plate and shove it into his mouth.
I let him know I'd only ever been out of the country when I went to Costa Rica on a high school senior class trip eight years ago, and had had wanderlust bubbling in my veins since then. I told him some about my work at the agency, how I was close to my mother who lived right on the west side of Jacksonville, and that my father lived in a tiny town in Washington State.
He was close to his father and sisters and his group of friends he'd known since birth. Unfortunately, his mother had passed when he was just a boy. My heart ached for him, even though I'd never met her.
"Ready for the complete desert?"
He cleared our plates and placed them into the sink. I bobbed my head in response, secretly hoping it was just a replay of what had happened an hour ago. Instead, he reached for two small bowls and opened the oven to reveal something dark and sinful-looking bubbling in a glass dish.
"Hey Jacob..."
"Mmmhmm?" he replied, scooping what looked like some kind of brownie-cake hybrid with nuts into a bowl. I felt like a six-year-old again, brimming with excitement at the thought of the rest of this dessert.
"What's your last name?"
"Ha! I haven't told you, yet? Sorry about that...Well, I'm Quileute," he said gesturing to his hair and body, "Native. In Quileute, it's Sh`ipa - Black. Jacob Ephraim Black."
I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew he had to have been Native American, but I couldn't place exactly where. I felt a little more at ease; I may not know everything about this man, but at least I knew his last name.
"Now, Miss Swan," he said with a smile, "Mr. Black presents...dessert. I call this, Death by Chocolate."
I looked down and was met with the most delicious-looking thing I think I'd ever seen. What he was stirring was chocolate sauce, of course, which he'd poured all over the brownie-cake thing. He nodded toward the bowl, urging me to taste. I picked up the spoon, scooped off a hunk of cake-brownie-sauce and slid it into my mouth.
I died.
…Died.
"How do you like it?" He smiled, watching me closely.
"Oh my god...I'd give up all other foods and eat this for the rest of my life."
Chuckle. …Deep, baritone, genuine.
He stepped toward me and kissed me, again. Then, I noticed there was only one spoon. I scooped another hunk off, and lifted it toward him. He took it between his lips, locking eyes with me, and slowly eased it out of his mouth.
It was a thing of beauty. This man was really giving me an oral fixation.
"Mmmm..." He paused, the mischief returning to his eyes. "This is delicious," he said, suggestively, and I quivered a bit more.
-
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A/N - I have a thing with sauces, so, chocolate syrup seemed a natural choice. I think something with honey may be appropriate in later chapters. Hmmm.
This chapter is dedicated to every girl (and guy) who's ever really needed some midday love. Hope Jake lived up to your little fantasies.
Thanks to my beta, Kay Cannon, and all you little chickies. You make me smile.
Also, thank you to all the boss girls (and some boys) out there that voted for The Neighbor: Anytime, Anyplace.
Jake and Bella placed first in the blind public poll for the Team SOB Rain Scene Challenge (fanfiction(dot)net/u/2046940/) because of you and all your awesomeness. I thank everyone that clicked that button for my entry. There were quite a few amazing stories, and I am just happy to be counted among all the Wolfpack lovers out there.
And, if that wasn't amazing enough, TNAA was also selected as a favorite by one of the judges, BloodofBeckie, which is an awesome honor in itself.
You can check out the banner here, as well as all of the other winners: teamsob(dot)blogspot(dot)com/2010/02/and-winners-are(dot)html
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