“It’s a bit of a cliché, isn’t it?” she says on a playful grin.

Yes, yes, it is but, fuck me, this cliché looks pretty fucking perfect to me. I have another quick hit of cream, thinking how much better it’ll taste when I’m licking it from her flesh. “The old ones are the best.” Old. Like me. I kick that ridiculous thought away and focus on the woman before me.

The woman who finds me irresistible.

Now, time for part two of my plan. I go to the cupboard and rummage. “Here it is.” I eye up the jar of chocolate spread, my mouth watering. This has got to be up there with the greatest of desserts. I grab a spatula and casually hit the top of the jar with it, delighting in the satisfaction growing on her face.

I get rid of the lid, mirroring Ava’s curious, raised brow as I plunge the spatula inside, loading it with as much chocolate as I can get.

And smack it on her boob.

“Ouch!”

My grin is irrepressible as I spread it far and wide, coating her everywhere, her hums as constant as the throbs in my cock.

She’s covered. I’m done. And a fucking amazing job it is too. “My very own Ava éclair.”

She peeks down at her coated body. “I guess now you’ve had your fun,” she says, her arms wedging onto the counter. “I should go take a shower.”

What? I’m on her like a wolf, locking her to me, the slap of our chests deafening. She laughs, squirming against me, making sure I’m as covered as she is.

“Sneak,” I grumble, looking between us as I peel myself away, pouting. It’s all ruined, like a squished, melted, chewed-up eclair. Damn her.

Time to sweat, baby.

I lower her to the counter. “I’ve not even started with the fun part, lady.”

“I’m filthy,” she says around a dizzying grin.

“Oh, I love that grin.” It’s light, it’s happy, and I put it there. It’s fucking life. “You won’t be filthy for long.” I bend over her, my cock getting a torturous rub in the right spot. Control! I’m a joke. My finger must be vibrating against her skin as I drag it through the mess on her body. She’s regarding me with nothing less than adoration. That in itself is addictive. I pass over her erect nipple, watching her stiffen, her eyes shimmering with want. I make a meal, literally, of licking my finger clean. “Hmm,” I hum. “Chocolate, cream, and sweat.” And it is divine.