Spicy Hot
Célia
The robe is now wide open on me, held only by my position and his. The fire caresses my bare skin. His fingers, free between bites, trace paths on my sternum, around a breast without ever touching it directly, making it tremble with anticipation.
— The strawberries, he says finally, his voice hoarse with contained desire.
He takes a perfect red strawberry, dips it lightly in the bowl of fresh cream. He brings it to my mouth. I bite. The fruit is sweet, tart, the cream rich. Juice runs down my chin.