Better Than Chocolate Read online

  BETTER THAN CHOCOLATE

  A collection of erotic Valentines stories

  Edited by Miranda Forbes

  Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2011

  ISBN 9781908086303

  Copyright © Accent Press Ltd 2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

  These stories have also been published in Sex, Love and Valentines – ISBN 9781907016103 2010

  Winner of Jade Erotic Awards:

  Erotic Fiction Publisher 2010

  "Xcite has delighted its readers with a wealth of superb titles and first class storytelling. Their titles have far outstripped the others for both quality of the product and sensual erotic content."

  Contents

  Better Than Chocolate Amelia Thornton

  The Stocks Roger Frank Selby

  E620 Lucy Felthouse

  Crush Primula Bond

  A Weekend Retreat Izzy French

  Better Than Chocolate

  by Amelia Thornton

  God, it had been a long day. Work had been a constant stream of rude, difficult people all deciding today was the day to call up and make incredibly awkward requests, and the new temp had misfiled nearly all of my customer records, resulting in me spending my whole lunch break hunched over the filing cabinet trying to resolve it. The admin girls all seemed to think February 14th was carte blanche to do no work whatsoever except giggle over who got which Valentine’s card, and if I saw another Interflora moron coming in with a personalised bouquet I swear the whole office was going on lockdown. By the time 5 p.m. rolled around, I was in no mood for enjoying any kind of romance, especially as I still had a huge pile of invoices to go through before I could even think about getting out of the office, not to mention the cloyingly sweet goodbyes of all the girls as they left to head home for boxes of chocolates and rose-petal-strewn beds

  It was nearly 7.30 by the time I finally switched off the lights and headed for the lifts, my head developing an irritating ache and blisters rubbing on my feet. Aaron was no way getting lucky tonight. Part of me felt bad, as he always loved Valentine’s Day and all of that kind of thing, but I could just never get myself into the spirit of all that commercial junk. “Just a marketing ploy by the card manufacturers and confectionery industry!” I had grandly informed him on our first Valentine’s together. I smiled to myself as I thought about him. Maybe we could still have a nice evening together, even without all that Valentine’s junk. Maybe I’d be in the mood by the time I got home

  By the time I’d endured the bus journey back to my place, I wasn’t feeling any more inclined, and in fact just more tired and irritable than before. I ran a hot, steaming bath, peeling off the layers of my work clothes and slipping beneath frothy lavender-scented bubbles, and gradually began to unwind a little. I guess some nice underwear could probably do it. That wouldn’t be too much effort. I had bought a nice burgundy set back in the sales he’d not had a chance to see yet, and it would at least get me in the right frame of mind. I towelled off my wet body and rubbed my favourite moisturiser into my skin before dressing myself in the new lingerie and a simple black cashmere sweater and short, pleated black skirt. Surely he would appreciate that, at least. I touched up my make-up, grabbed my coat and car keys, and headed over to his

  He opened the door, planted a kiss on my cheek and just wordlessly led me through to the lounge. This wasn’t like him, to be so quiet, and I began to puzzle at his mysterious attitude. Had he gone and got me some stupid present, like I asked him not to? Well. What I saw certainly beat a box of Milk Tray, there was no denying that. There it was, right in front of me – just about the finest Valentine’s present an anti-Valentine’s girl could hope for. Around his tightly muscled torso was a large red ribbon, tied in an elaborate bow at the front, and on his bottom half was nothing but some tight black briefs. Certainly not what I expected to find in the middle of the lounge on a chilly February 14th. I turned to Aaron, grinning stupidly like a kid in a candy shop, and saw that he was beaming just as much as I was

  “Is this really for me?” I asked incredulously

  “Of course. I know Valentine’s isn’t really your thing, but I thought this might change your mind.” He put his arm around me and turned appreciatively to the toned young man in front of us, surveying his lean arms and broad chest with admiration.

  “I was kind of hoping you might want to share though,” he added wickedly, his eyes still running across the tight muscles of the shoulders, the strongly featured face with welcoming eyes and an even more welcoming smile. I felt a flicker of excitement in my stomach as I thought about Aaron’s hands running across this strange new man’s skin, their tongues twisting around each other, bodies pushed close together …

  “So where did you find him?” I asked, pulling myself back to the reality of the moment. I was quite aware I was still talking about him like he wasn’t there, but it was very hard not to objectify a man standing half naked with a ribbon around him

  “A little bit of internet research, that was all,” he replied casually, smiling at the man. “It’s amazing what you can find when you put your mind to it … Dylan, isn’t it?”

  For the first time, my Valentine’s present spoke, sounding almost shy, which just made him seem all the more endearing

  “Er, yeah … nice to meet you,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I hope I made for a good surprise?”

  “Well you could say that!” I laughed, stepping closer to him, reaching for the ends of the ribbon, and releasing them with a tug. “I’ve not had anything quite so enticing to unwrap before, that’s for certain …”

  His sharp blue eyes met mine with a teasing glint. “Well, for the next 3 hours, I’m all yours … so I hope I can do more for you than just get unwrapped?”

  I barely had time to cringe at the cheesiness of his line before his soft lips were on mine, pressing gently at first, tentatively almost, until my tongue slipped into his mouth and he began to respond more intensely, biting on my lower lip, his strong hands gripping my hair, a tiny whimper escaping from my mouth as his teeth teasingly clamped down on my tongue. There was something strangely exciting about kissing a man who wasn’t Aaron, the different feeling of his mouth, the rush of adrenaline of someone new. Yet this was nothing compared to the knowledge that he was standing right there, watching me, his eyes darting all over my body, drinking in the sight of another man’s lips on mine.

  I pulled away from Dylan just long enough to glance over at Aaron, his cock straining against his jeans, a wicked grin on his face, his hand gently rubbing the bulging denim, moving nearer and nearer to us. He wanted this as much as I did. With Dylan’s lips hungrily caressing my neck, I pulled Aaron towards me, my tongue instantly in his mouth, his kisses just as passionate back. Like a tangled mess of limbs, we fell back on the sofa, Dylan’s hands running across the swell of my breasts beneath my tight black sweater, Aaron’s caressing the length of my leg, encased in shiny black stockings, gently lifting my skirt to expose the glimpse of pale thigh above them. As he slipped it back down over my legs to reveal my deep burgundy suspender belt and panties, I was suddenly very glad I had bothered to put decent lingerie on after all …

  His fingers inched further up my thigh towards the damp lace of my panties, my breath quickening as his thumb pushed aside the flimsy fabric, moving towards the slick wetness of my opening. Gasping, I felt two fingers pushed roughly inside me, curving around immediately to hit my g-spot a
s Dylan pulled my legs further apart. Aaron’s strong hand thrust deeper inside me, hitting me just right to make me moan each time, as Dylan pulled my sweater above my breasts, revealing the firm curves of my cleavage, framed by deep burgundy lace. My nipples were teased to responsive erectness beneath his fingertips, his tongue wetly fucking my ear as Aaron continued to massage my g-spot, his thumb curling around my throbbing clit and rubbing in a circular rhythm just the way he knew would drive me crazy as his mouth found my other nipple and began to suck

  “God … yeah … don’t … stop …” I managed to stammer, as the intensity began to agonisingly build, my whole body alive with sensation as two sets of hands and mouths continued to pleasure me, until finally I felt myself come crashing over the edge, my muscles rippling tightly around Aaron’s fingers as orgasm engulfed me

  Panting, I lay there recovering as the familiar glow began to subside, both men grinning at each other like they had just discovered some exciting new trick. Neither even needed to speak as they leaned right across me, hungrily grabbing for each other, their tongues darting inside each other’s mouths, two hardened cocks begging for release. Dylan reached for Aaron’s flies, frantically tugging the jeans off as Aaron yanked his T-shirt over his head, Dylan’s hands deftly pulling Aaron’s straining cock from his boxers. I watched, entranced, as this strange young man began to play with my boyfriend’s rock-hard cock, his fist tightly gripping the shaft, his free hand caressing his balls. I soon forgot all about my fading orgasm as Aaron slipped Dylan’s snug black briefs to the floor, revealing his short, thick cock and tight balls, and dropped to his knees, his lips closing over the throbbing head. Dylan’s fingers gripped his hair as Aaron’s mouth worked on his cock, saliva running the length of his as he took it deeper and deeper, my eyes never leaving the sight of the mouth that kissed me goodnight sucking cock on the floor of his lounge

  Slowly, I slipped my fingers back inside my soaking panties, my clit still hypersensitive yet longing to be touched. Gently, I began to rub back and forth, keeping with the building rhythm of Aaron’s mouth on Dylan’s cock, sparks of the beginning of another orgasm darting through me as I quickened the pace of my fingers. Just as I finally began to pay no attention to them, and was closing my eyes, leaning my head back to allow another wave of pleasure to peak inside me, I realised they had both stopped, and Dylan was now standing in front of me, rolling a condom onto his throbbing purple head. Aaron stepped behind me, spreading my legs apart as Dylan pushed inside me, his thick cock widening my tight, wet hole and thrusting roughly into me. My fingers snaked back to my swollen clit, rubbing furiously as he pounded my aching pussy, Aaron’s fingers tightly gripping my nipples as I finally came in a shattering jolt. As my muscles clenched even tighter around Dylan, he plunged into me one final time and with a guttural roar came himself.

  We both lay, spent and exhausted, sweat clinging to our skin. I glanced over at Aaron, and saw that his cock was still firmly standing to attention, his fingers tightly gripping it and slowly pumping, droplets of precum glistening on the head

  “Come here,” I murmured, motioning him next to me, taking him deep into my mouth. Running my tongue along the length of his shaft, I moved aside to allow Dylan next to me, his own tongue hungrily lapping at my boyfriend’s cock. The two of us took turns swallowing him, kissing each others’ lips over the swollen head of Aaron’s cock, my fingers gently probing his balls as we both sucked him. Dylan reached over to his rucksack, lying upturned on the floor next to the sofa, and scrambled around until he pulled out a travel-size bottle of lube, and flicked the lid

  “You wanna fuck me?” he asked, an impish glint in his eye. “You wanna feel your cock pushing on my tight little asshole?”

  The eager expression on Aaron’s face told him all he needed to know. Bending over on all fours, he offered his tight, tanned butt to the other man. Skilfully, Aaron rolled a condom down the length of his cock, pouring a generous dribble of thick gel over it, and worked a little into Dylan’s asshole with his fingers. Spreading my legs in front of him, I pulled Dylan’s face towards my already-longing cunt, and sighed with pleasure as his tongue began teasingly flicking against my clit. He grunted deeply as Aaron began to ease the length of his cock into his slick hole, slowly working his way in, Dylan’s tongue still darting hungrily between my legs.

  I looked up at Aaron, his eyes closed in satisfaction as he made his final thrust and fully entered Dylan’s ass. It was so sexy, to watch him begin to slowly fuck the other man, his balls slapping against his toned cheeks, Dylan’s own cock already beginning to get hard again. Moaning gently, I pulled Dylan’s mouth closer, rocking back and forth as his lips sucked on my swollen clit, my fingers pulling on my own nipples as I felt yet another orgasm gradually escalating inside me. Dylan’s panting as Aaron fucked his ass only excited me more

  My whole body bucked forward as my third orgasm ripped through me, my fingers almost pulling out Dylan’s hair as I buried his face between my legs. As if spurred on, Aaron plunged ever more frantically inside Dylan’s entrance, pounding him until he almost collapsed on top of him as he shot his load. At last, it seemed like all three of us couldn’t take any more. We lay, sweaty and panting, in a heap on the floor, at last all completely satisfied

  An hour later, as I curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine, Aaron on one side and Dylan on the other, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all. I mean, it might still be a bit of a marketing swizz, sometimes … but I’ll bet those card manufacturers certainly hadn’t planned on a Valentine’s present anything like mine

  The Stocks

  by Roger Frank Selby

  ‘Ah, there you are, Mr Finch.’

  Finch lifted the plane from his work, mentally noting where the last shaving had been cut from the table leg he’d been squaring off for Smythe Minor, one of his less able students. He was glad his female visitor had chosen break time; his woodwork classes tended to be somewhat noisy and chaotic. A previous visit by the voluptuous drama teacher had generated anonymous embarrassing remarks and even wolf-whistles from the class. Unfortunately, he’d been unable to deal with the situation effectively until her glare and natural authority had silenced the room

  He brushed the shavings from his apron. ‘What can I do for you, Miss Curzon?’

  ‘I was wondering if you could make a prop needed for our forthcoming play?’ She sounded slightly breathless.

  ‘Just a single prop?’ Not hordes of swords and axes like you had me making last term?‘Shouldn’t be a problem. What is it exactly?’

  ‘Well, it’s quite a big item – a set of stocks, actually. You know, a sort of plank thing, holding one’s head and hands …’

  He immediately imagined the woman before him bent well over, her wrist and neck clamped in broad, polished mahogany, her round backside raised high… Finch stopped his rampaging imagination when he found himself looking intently at her… She was blushing!

  ‘What an interesting project. Do you have a drawing or picture I can work from?’

  ‘Well no, Mr Finch … Perhaps, you could sketch something?’

  Finch grabbed his 2B pencil and flipped to a virgin page on his pad. He sketched rapidly, hearing her sharp intake of breath as the drawing of device and captive took shape. As a hard-up student, he’d made money on the streets of Paris and London from his swift artistry. He resisted the strong temptation to impart Miss Curzon’s likeness on the captive wench. ‘Is this what you have in mind?’

  ‘Oh, Mr Finch! That’s it –exactly!’ She blushed again.

  ‘Well, technically, this is a pillory. I believe stocks just hold the ankles when seated – but that would not be so suitable for the play, I’d imagine.’

  ‘I agree … The script does, actually call for “stocks” but I think I rather like the idea of being … I mean, I had imagined something just as you have so ably drawn, and that would work far better with an audience, I should think.’ The woman seemed to ha
ve come alive with that sketch, showing – not too explicitly – the vulnerability of one so captured.

  ‘So, Miss Curzon, we’ll continue to call our pillory “stocks” just in case some spoilsport makes me build ankle restraints instead?’ He allowed himself a small grin

  ‘Quite!’ She laughed into his eyes, then looked up as the bell rang. ‘Oh dear, I have to go. Is that enough for you to get started?’

  ‘What about the size of the thing. Is it for the seniors? I could do with seeing the actor who’s to fit in to it – make it bespoke for him … or her.’

  ‘Must dash. Can I see you about that later?’

  ‘After school?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She was late. She saw him through the corridor windows, lounging against his desk with his pad, sketching in the empty classroom. He cut a fine figure but always looked happier without his class. She knew he had trouble keeping order, sometimes. If only she could show him how she controlled a class. A matter of confidence, really.

  But he also had this reputation of being something of an artist. She had seen one or two of his caricatures in the staffroom, and that sketch of ‘stocks’ and captive confirmed it. She wondered just what he was drawing now

  ‘Hello. So sorry I’m late.’

  He closed his pad rather quickly. ‘Hi. No problem.’

  ‘Have you been doing some more sketching?’ She lounged beside him, conscious of his height, maybe a little too close, as her breast brushed against the hairs of his bare forearm

  ‘I have.’ He opened the pad at an early page, showing a drawing of an empty device

  ‘Wow! Look at all that detail. Hinges, clasps …’

  ‘I’m assuming you want a robust, realistic device, with things working just as they should.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘And have you decided on the size?’