Today, as promised, I am offering up for your delectation an extract from The Chocolatier, book 2 in my Erotic Myths & Sexy Tales boxset. The Chocolatier is a hot and steamy story of a man who lusts after an unattainable goddess – until a mysterious and luscious temptress instructs him in the seductive and magical power of chocolate.

We join our hapless hero, who is plagued by both his desire for his goddess, and unfortunately a whole orgy of lascivious ghosts which live in his home and taunt him with their endless comments – and the sex he wishes he was getting – as he encounters the mysterious and constantly tempting Lilith who is extremely willing to teach him how to get his goddess in her own very special and alluring way…

Happy reading! x

***

The day was a Friday. He liked Fridays; if he was lucky, the men who had the common sense to avoid scandal were out shopping at various points in the day for a little ‘something for the weekend’, which also often included a box of his chocolates. Every now and again, a young man would enter early, red-faced. One came in last week. He’d scoured the shop – the trays, the shelves – and leant in close, with a sense of urgency.

“Are you where I can get… you know?”

Yes, Edward did know. Sometimes, he wished he’d decided to sell under-counter prophylactics instead. He’d make a mint.

“I’m afraid not, not right now.” It didn’t hurt to keep his options open. Legal matters were another thing entirely, but discretion was part of a man’s armoury in that sort of thing. He did manage to sell the poor, blushing young man a small box of chocolates, though, and to suggest he went to get his hair cut. “Regent Street. Just tell him I sent you.”

This Friday, Edward flipped the shop sign to ‘open’, and returned to the back of the counter, shivering a little as he chafed his fingers before rearranging the trays under the glass. He had a little knack of twisting the trays so that the space seemed full when he amalgamated the contents of a couple of the platters. He never made new chocolates to sell on Fridays and Saturdays, unless there had been an unusual flurry of sales during the week. So never, then.

Sundays, though, were a different matter. He never went to church. There was no one to make him anymore. So his day began at dawn and finished when he could no longer fit any more chocolates on his long table laden with drying trays.

The cold morning mist still swirled beyond the display window, taking with it some stray snowflakes that were illuminated briefly in the shop’s light before descending into the near darkness once more. It took such a long time for the light to dawn at this time of year. He sometimes thought that his entire life had sunk into darkness; that maybe he was in a hell of his own making. But if this was hell, why was it so miserably cold?

Yet the darkness held some delight. He loved his job, even if he wasn’t so good on the social front. Or the sexual one. Or even the aesthetic one, despite his artistic talents. For all his fifteen years of experience in chocolate making, he wasn’t much of a one for creating window displays that drew in customers. His success, what little he had, was based on his ability and reputation for making high quality chocolates. People came for them, bought them, went again. Just like the mist rolling by.

It was still only just after eight, and his head was buried inside the glass top of the counter as he fiddled around, relabelling his trays with little folded cream cards written neatly in black ink, when the bell over the door clanked in its strange, leaden way. A family heirloom from the origins of the Ixcacao Chocolate House itself, he was loath to change it for a more modern-sounding bell. It was as unique as the rest of the shop, and its weird inhabitants. Speaking of ancestral spirits, they were extremely quiet today. He could only hope they were all hung over.

He made a lop-sided effort at peering through the glass frontage, and managed a half-view of his potential customer, the oak structure of the lower and side partitions getting in the way. He did manage to notice a dress. It was black, and tight, and sweeping down almost to the floor, which was rare in the morning, unless the revellers, those ‘Bright Young Things’, were still making their way home. But even they would usually be snoring and assuming their butlers and maids wouldn’t dream of waking them at this hour of the day. Perhaps one was lost, or was walking around in drunken confusion.

Or, perhaps this was someone very different altogether. He raised himself up to investigate further.

Edward liked the fun of trying to sum up his customers in his own head, well before they spoke. And he had plenty of time to try, as the owner of the long dress seemed in no hurry to begin a conversation, or to purchase, or to be gone. Neither did she look concerned, so Edward assumed she had arrived there of her own volition and not through any kind of panicky need. Her dress really was tight, and he had to moisten his lips a couple of times to try and encourage his sudden dry throat to do the same.

She wore neither a shawl nor a stole as some tardy revellers might have done, but rather a short, silken-looking fur coat, also in black. Peering down, he saw the most exquisite black shoes on tiny feet. At five feet five, he was not the tallest of men, but she was much shorter, with only her almost unwearable heels putting them eye to eye. He gazed at her footwear with a meld of disbelief and admiration. How could she possibly walk in those? She was lucky there was no layer of wintry ice outside.

Her long black hair caught his attention next. It shone as if with captured moonbeams, and draped down to mingled with her garments. She altogether gave him the impression of a gorgeous black snake, as she stood swaying a little on the spot, and taking in every part of her environment. Her stunning green eyes flicked from the high ceiling and its intricate fleur-de-lis moulding, to the internal door that was rocking and rattling in its frame as frenzied whispers mashed into one behind it. He hoped she couldn’t hear them, although he doubted it was possible.

 Her gaze moved to the display counter and the pert little mounds of deliciousness under their transparent covering. Eventually, she turned directly to him, and held his gaze. It wasn’t difficult. Her eyes sucked him in, and he found himself feeling unusual. He was positive he would not get it wrong if he offered her a small sample of the darkest selection of his chocolates.

He tried all the usual tactics, finding it almost impossible to pull himself away from her eyes. He said “good morning”; he mentioned the weather, which was “really rather cold and damp, but to be expected at this time of year in England”.

She shrugged her shoulders to all of this, and opened her fur to reveal the top of her low-cut dress where two rounded breasts moved in time to the ins and outs of her breath. Still she did not speak, but somehow Edward found his mouth inches away from her across the counter. He knew he must stop this visual feasting. But it was so alive, so mesmerising, so within reach…

He didn’t know what had come over him. With difficulty, he kept his twitching hands to himself, and fixed his gaze on hers. He felt himself undone at every turn; he’d never seen anything like her face before. Her lips were of the deepest red, like the darkest blood red cherries, and they drew something – a feeling – up through him, until it hid just under the surface of his skin, and he began to know what his chocolates would feel like, if they were alive, at the prospect of him biting them open, their delicious, hidden centres oozing out.

Her lips undid him. But it was her incredible eyes that sent the contents of his trousers into spasms, and he forced his cock against the counter in such a way that his crotch was just lower than the oak edging and hopefully wouldn’t cause him excruciating embarrassment.

The first words she spoke dripped like honey from those deep cherry lips, leaving the tip of his cock wet, and his balls throbbing with the fantasy of possibilities.

“You know what I want from you already, I believe. You’re very good. I can tell these things.”

The sign outside swung and creaked. He could hear it even though the door was closed to the coldness of the morning. It drew his gaze, as it always did, to see his goddess wound in her satin sheet, swaying in the street and touting for business in her discreet, elegant way.

More of that dripping decadence fell from the deep red lips in front of him, and brought his attention right back to reality.

“Ixcacao, the ancient goddess. I haven’t seen her in a very long while.” She smiled, and his stomach twisted itself like a knotted sheet that had been thoroughly entangled in Edward’s night-time fantasies.

He slid into his usual explanation, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yes, she’s difficult to find, especially in this country. This place was opened originally as one of the top chocolate houses in London, where the upper classes came to cavort while drinking their steaming cups of the newest, popular drink. I can only assume that one of my ancestors was a mythology enthusiast and had been touched by her story.”

 “Mmmm, to be touched by a goddess. What a lucky man.” Her fingernail, deep cherry to match her lips, trailed over his sleeve, and tingles rippled through his arm, leaving him squirming, and crushing a high-pitched squeak in his throat. She smiled at him again. Usually, his story drew gasps of disbelief at the very idea of a chocolate goddess. And they were so enthralled that they often bought chocolates, without even requesting a sample.

He was starting to feel like one of his own customers, taken unawares, drawn into a magic he didn’t understand.

He wasn’t sure what else to say. “Yes, the goddess Ixcacao. Very nice and helpful. And beautiful, of course.”

She leant over the counter so that Edward received a full view of her beautiful mounds, and his mouth went so dry that his tongue stuck to his teeth. “I have always had a tendency to prefer the darker deities, myself.” She held out her hand. He rarely got to take the un-gloved hand of any woman who came in his shop, and he found it yet another unusual and fascinating thing about her. “I am Lilith. Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He took her fingers in his, and at the first touch of her skin, heat rushed through his spine.

“Edward Poynton. I am delighted to meet you, Lilith.” He reached under the counter, so expertly that he had no need to take his eyes off hers. “Could I possibly tempt you…?”

Her smile was wider this time, revealing a beautiful, even row of white teeth against her deep red lips.

“Oh, I believe you already have, Edward. The question is whether you want to be tempted, too.”

He thought he was going to choke. Her eyes held his; he couldn’t breathe. He had to bite down hard on his tongue, trying to recover enough composure to appear to ignore her words and continue. “I—I mean, can I possibly tempt you with a piece of chocolate?”

With full concentration he kept a steady hand and offered her the full tray of samples. Just as he had expected, she took the dark one, the truffle, and bit into it. He watched as she eased it into her mouth, fascinated by the movements of her lips and jaw, imagining her tongue sliding over the melted treat, her teeth nibbling into it. Her sensuous swallow drew an involuntary gasp from him.

“Mmmm, that was delicious, Edward.” She slid her hand over his, and his cock began to twitch like a thing possessed. “Extremely tempting. You must tempt an awful lot of customers with your art.”

Back to that whole temptation thing again. “My art?” Edward’s consciousness was floundering, baffled and aroused not just by her words, but by the way he found it impossible to take his eyes from hers, unless it was to unashamedly stare at her form. Guilt bubbled at the surface, but he was too confused to be capable of identifying its source.

“You don’t recognise what you do as an art? You’re a Master Chocolatier, if you did but see it. I can see it in you.” Her eyes glanced down over his side of the counter top. “Then again, I can see lots of things. I see something big…for you, Edward.”

He didn’t know where to hide his embarrassment; words stuck to the roof of his mouth as he turned his attention to the counter. Anything to avoid Lilith’s eyes. Instead, he was caught by the curve of her hips, and the indent of her waist, neither of which did anything to calm the effect she was having on his cock. It pulsed heavily in his trousers, taking away his ability to think, or even act like an intelligent human being and string a sentence together.

“If you could be recognised as such, would you want that, Edward? Master Chocolatier?” She placed a glossy red fingernail under his chin and lifted his face to hers, green eyes glowing into his. “Please, could I have another piece of your wonderful chocolate, Edward? While you answer my question.”

He could see his own breath in front of him in the cold air, felt his entire body heaving, as she took a dark dipped sweet fondant centre in between her lips. They closed around his finger and thumb, leaving a delicious wet trail over his skin. Sparks of electricity shot through his body, tingling from his face to his knees. A real and desperate urge consumed him, one that he’d never expected to feel again. He answered her with a desperate, hoarse, “Yes. I would. Love it.”

She withdrew his fingers from her mouth.

“I would very much like a box of your darkest creations to take away with me.”

“Take…away?” With an obvious shake to his hands now, he selected a box of his most cocoa-filled chocolates and presented them to her. In a surreal daze, he performed the perfunctory duties of shopkeeper, accepting her money, handing over her purchase.

“How wonderful. I now own a little piece of your soul.”

His eyes opened wide. “I always think that about my chocolates. My heart and soul is in every one.”

Her eyes never left his as she stroked the side of his cheek over the counter, deep cherry-red fingernail stopping short of entering his mouth. His lips parted instinctively, but she pulled away, her mouth curling into a small grin. “Who’d have known you think that? Well, now, I’ll remember that, for when I come back for more.”

Edward had no idea what to say, as she pulled her coat around her tightly, and headed towards the door, leaving him with the back view, from her beautiful rounded bottom, downward, in that tight black dress, walking on those crazy, sexy heels. Lilith opened the door, only to look back and stare him hard in the eyes.

“You will see me again. Temptation is hard to resist, isn’t it?”

It took a full twenty minutes before his heart stopped racing.

***

If you liked this, and would like to take a peek at the boxset of four different erotic myths and sexy tales, you can find it at all the following places. I’m keeping the price really low right now, so that you can get your hands on it cheaply if you need some… um… distraction.

And you can still get my collection of 20 erotic stories for 99c/99p (or your country’s equivalent) until the end of May. So if you want to bag that bargain, you can find all the purchase links here.

Brownie points if you know which Agatha Christie book I cribbed the name Poynton from (well, almost – this is a mis-spelling of Boynton. That’s as big a clue as you’re getting). 🙂

Take care of yourself and each other. Stay safe x

2 Replies to “Extract: The Chocolatier”

    1. It most certainly is! And I have to say that this quiet and unassuming chocolatier has no idea what he’s in for! 😉

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