Hard Candy
“Your last name sounds Italian.”
“It, is Italian.”
“Welcome to the family. I’m Italian.”
“Wonderful…”
“Yes. You taste wonderful.”
“And so do you.”
-
From the moment the elevator door closed, he had been laying his eyes all over me. His eyes were feeling my thighs, my ass, my breasts, and my hair. They were taking me all in.
Owning me.
His emerald green eyes locked with mine. But only for a moment. I had turned away, tried to look coy. That’s when his hungry eyes returned to my mounds, found my ripe nipples. They were planning an escape through the tight fabric of my tight black dress.
They were hard like grapes. Sweet and juicy.
Like the night before Christmas. Visions of sugar plums danced in his head.
I cleared my throat.
Made him read my nametag.
The tag read Miss Pomponio. Just then his eyes reached up and touched my plump lips. Tried to see past my soft lips. A moment later I rolled out my tongue. Tongue that was rolling around inside of my mouth, the tongue enjoying the flavor of hard candy, the hard candy he was dying to taste.
I slid my red tongue across my cushiony lips, like fluffing pillows, was patting them with my tongue like saying…come-here-boy.
So he did. Pressed his hard chest against my soft breast. But. I became the aggressor. I pulled him closer, leaned into him, and gave him a taste. By the time we had reached the Penthouse floor, my tongue was ready….
But the elevator door had opened.
