This week a little chocolaty smooch from Smut for Chocoholics...
Red Carpet Sweat by Lily Harlem
Hollywood star Tatyana has just been tempted to eat a bar of chocolate by her bodyguard Krane who is concerned about her fainting on the red carpet due to lack of food. She's now panicking about the calories and how she will look in her slinky designer dress - there's only one solution in the time she has before the Oscars begin, but can she persuade him?
“The trouble is, Krane.” I walked to the window, being sure to sashay like the fabulous Hollywood A-lister I was. “You’ve left me with rather a dilemma.”
“I have?” I’d put money on him staring at my ass right now. What man wouldn’t given the chance?
I pulled the curtains, dimming the room to a warm amber glow. “Yes, and since it was you who created this problem…” I turned. He was standing with his hands in his pockets and his eyes narrowed. “It’s only fair that you help me out with it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Where’s your gun?”
“Where it always is.”
“Put it on the side.” I pointed at the table.
“Why?” He made no move.
“Because I don’t want it going off accidently when you help me burn off those calories.” I walked over to him, pouted my lips and put my hands on my hips. “Go on.”
A muscle flexed in his cheek.
“Gun,” I said again, standing close and looking up into his shadowed face. I could make out every dot of stubble over his top lip and across his chin. “Lose it.”
His nostrils flared then he reached into his holster and set his weapon on the table where he’d put the chocolate.
“Krane,” I whispered, going up on tiptoes and leaning into him, much closer than I ever had before. Breaking all the rules of personal space. “You think you can bring chocolate in here, tempt me to fill up on sugar and fat and get away with it scot free?”
“I’m not sure what you mean?” His breath was hot and masculine, maybe with a hint of coffee.
“One hundred and seventy five,” I whispered.
“One hundred and seventy five what?” he repeated in a low, growling tone.
“Calories, that’s how many calories that chocolate bar was, and…” I glanced at the clock. “I have a fraction over half an hour to burn them off.”
His gaze was roaming my face, it slid downward, to my neck and the hollow of my throat. “So you want me to take you to the gym?” He swallowed tightly.
I shook my head, loosened the belt on my robe. “No time for that, more drastic measures are called for.”
That muscle flexed in his cheek again and a darkness filled the depths of his eyes. “The words drastic measures are ringing alarm bells for me.”
“Alarm bells? Why, you don’t think you handle me?” I gave a cocky smile.
“I can handle you just fine. It’s all the lunatics out there who want a piece of you that scare the shit out of me.”
I opened my robe completely, let it slide to the floor and gather around my feet. I wore a pale aqua bra and pantie set. A tiny white flower sat at the center of the bra, between the cups.
“Tatyana,” Krane said, roaming his gaze over my body. “What are you doing?”
A flash in his eyes told me he was surprised by my action. But being a man in absolute control he didn’t step back, he stayed up close and personal. His body heat radiating onto my flesh and making me want more. More of him; all of him.
Fuck he was hot, standing there all dangerous and hard in his pristine suit. There was a mysteriousness about him, an untamed, uncontrollable wildness that said he would never be ruled by anyone but himself.
But still, he was mine, to a degree. I paid his wages, he was duty bound to bend to my needs, wishes and today, my desires.
“I think you know what I’m doing?” I said quietly.
“I really don’t.”
I rested my hands on the smooth lapels of his jacket, stroked the fine material. “I need to burn off those calories, right now, right here and there’s only one way to do that efficiently in the time I have.”
He looked at my fingers caressing his clothes. “And that is?”
I paused for dramatic effect. It wasn’t everyday a guy was invited into Tatyana Starr’s bed. In fact it had been over a year since I’d made that offer. “I need you to make love to me… now.”
He tipped his head lower, toward mine and swept his tongue over his bottom lip. “Making love to you isn’t in my job description.” His voice was a fraction deeper. But again if he was shocked by my demand, he hid it well in his facial expression.
“It’s in the job description now.” I slipped my hands beneath his jacket, pushed it from the first slope of his shoulders. He made no move to help it on its way.
“Trouble is,” he said, “in my mind making love is exactly that, between two people in love.”
I shoved his jacket a little harder, still with no effect. “Not always.”
“Yes always, and we’re not in love, are we?”
I paused. “No, I guess not.”
He captured my chin in his hand; a big, hard, hot hand, his fingers digging into my cheek. He dragged in a breath. “If it’s not making love its just sex.”
I stared up at the rigid, almost feral look in his face. It did funny things to the tremble between my legs. Made me feel excited and also a little bit scared. “Just sex?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Is that what you want?”
I nodded and succeeded in slipping his jacket free. It fell to the carpet. “Yes, sex. I want sex of the energetic, sweaty variety, to burn up those fucking calories you gave me.”
“That’s the only way I have sex.” He wound an arm around my waist and snapped me against his body, whooshing the air from my lungs. “Energetic and sweaty is what I call fucking,” he said and lowered his lips to mine, hovered them there. “And I fuck fast, hard and for a reason, Tatyana.”
I gripped his crisp white shirt. Beneath it he was like a damn brick wall. “And that reason is?”
“To find satisfaction in the quickest, most efficient way possible, for both me and the woman I’m with.”
Oh fuck. That sounded like an excellent plan. “Okay.” I wriggled against him and found what I was looking for—a hard wedge of flesh pressing into my abdomen. “So you think you’re up for the challenge? One hundred and seventy-five calories in half an hour.”
“You do realize how dangerous it is to set an ex-marine a challenge?”
“Danger is my middle name,” I said, sliding my hands over his collar and linking my fingers at the nape of his neck.
“Generally I like to make sure it isn’t, but for the next thirty minutes, if you’re sure it’s what you want, then I’ll make an exception.”
“Yes. It’s what I want. Krane—”
My words were cut off as he took possession of my mouth.