Claim Me: A Novel

must look confused, because he continues. “Alaine imports the chocolate from the Swiss subsidiary I mentioned earlier.”
    “Really?” I peer into the pot. “I already know you’re delicious. I suppose your chocolate will be, too.”
    As if to prove the point, I reach for a strawberry, but he gently smacks my hand. “No, no,” he says.
    I stare at him. “Um, hello?
Chocolate
.”
    He laughs. “Close your eyes.”
    I narrow them but don’t close them.
    “Disobedience, Ms. Fairchild? You do live dangerously …”
    I smirk, but I also close my eyes. After a moment, I feel something soft brush my cheek, then cover my eyes. A napkin or a handkerchief? I’m not sure, but whatever it is, Damien is using it as a blindfold.
    “What—” But my question is stalled by his finger on my lips.
    “I made you a promise, Ms. Fairchild.”
    I nod, my nipples tightening and my sex clenching as I recall Damien’s words. “You’re going to make me come.”
    “That, too,” he says, and I can hear the laughter in his voice. “I also said I was going to feed you. Conveniently, I think the two may go together very well.”
    For a moment, I feel nothing. Then the cord that is still between my legs tightens as Damien tugs gently at it from behind. I gasp, and when I do, something cold brushes my lips. “Open for me,” Damien says, and I do. He brushes the mystery item over my lips again. It’s soft and rough at the same time, and though I try to catch a scent, the heady smell of chocolate in the room is overpowering.
    “Now bite,” he says, and when I do, I moan with pleasure as the sweet strawberry bursts in my mouth. Juice dribbles down my chin, and then there is Damien, the tip of his tongue stroking up, dipping into the corner of my mouth, tasting the juice that escaped and teasing me mercilessly in the process.
    “I thought you weren’t going to touch me,” I say, turning my head to try to find his mouth. I want his kiss. I want his touch.
    “Holding me to my promise, after all?” he asks as he once again tugs at the cord. I whimper, my hips shifting on the seat. I can feel how wet I am, how slippery the cord is. It’s so close to my clit, but not quite there, and I’m craving that sweet, specific attention.
    “No,” I breathe. I want to beg him to touch me, promise be damned.
    He chuckles. “Ah, but I’m a man of integrity. But let’s agree that I’ll keep to the spirit of my promise and not the letter. Do you want me to gently press my fingertip against your clit? To feel that hard nub beneath my finger? To tease it, stroke it, to play with it until you come?”
    “I—”
    “Shhh. You don’t speak, Nikki. Not until I say that you can. Do you understand?”
    I nod.
    “Good. Let’s continue to discuss the parameters of my promise. Perhaps you want me to slide my hands between your legs. To spread you wide. To lay you back on this bench and kiss my way up your legs. To breathe in the scent of your sex, and dip my tongue in your sweet folds, more delicious than any chocolate could ever be?”
    Yes
, I want to say.
Oh, yes, please
.
    “Maybe you just want me to fuck you.”
    I whimper, but Damien ignores the sound.
    “To all of those possibilities, Ms. Fairchild, I am saying no. I promised I wouldn’t touch you, and I won’t. I won’t touch your sex, at any rate. As for the rest of you—well, perhaps we shall make one or two small exceptions. Nod if you understand.”
    I nod.
    “Good girl. Now try this.”
    I open my mouth, and discover a truly decadent treat. Creamy cheesecake that Damien has dipped in chocolate. I moan and swallow it, then lick every bit of chocolate from my lips.
    “Naughty girl,” Damien chides. “Not even leaving a taste for me.” As he speaks, he plays with the cord again. Behind the blindfold, I close my eyes and let the sweet sensations roll through me.
    All too soon Damien stops. It’s time for another treat. This time, a piece of dipped pound cake. Then a dipped marshmallow. And then—oh, God—it’s Damien’s finger in my mouth. I lick the chocolate off, then greedily pull him in. I run my tongue over his skin and suck and draw his finger in and out until I hear his soft moan and know that, yes, I’ve gotten to him.
    I wait for the next treat, but instead, Damien tugs at my sleeve. “Pull your arm in,” he says, and I do. He repeats on the other side, until both my arms are out of the sleeves and he is able to pull my shirt all the way up to my