“Would ordering a nice dessert and eating it off each other be of interest?”

His message catches me by surprise, but I feel a wry smirk curl the edge of my lips. “Totally into it. Love it,” I text him back. “You already opened the restaurant menu? 😉”

“Haha not yet but my mind is running through how much fun my tongue is going to have.”

I’ll be in Toronto for work in two days. While my days will be filled with serious meetings for a huge project, participants flying in from multiple countries, I’m planning my evening decompression. And this one happens to involve a British expat. I’m not sure what I’m more excited about, hearing his sexy accent as he talks dirty to me or now the promise of him eating dessert from my naked body.

I stride into the hotel bar to meet him after excusing myself a few minutes early from a business dinner. I’m in high heels and black with red lipstick, and I easily spot him at a table for 2. He stands to embrace me in a friendly hug - a benign gesture for two people who have already seen each other’s naked bodies over texted photos and videos. We sit and fall into easy conversation of our work and travels. He is fascinating, and I’m even more attracted to him - intelligent and witty and sinfully sexy.

As we finish our drinks, he looks at me with a glint in his eye and devilish grin on his lips and asks, “Should we order dessert?”

It’s a rhetorical question. He already knows my answer.

The server brings our treat boxed, ice cream-filled profiteroles topped with chocolate syrup and whipped cream, a few minutes later. We sign the check and leave the restaurant. He trails behind me as I lead the way to the elevator to my room.

We barely step through the door before his hands are on me, wild and eager to feel my body and reduce the layers of clothing between us. Our lips are pressed desperately together and I’m trying to simultaneously wriggle out of my heels and unbutton his pants. I pull them down and free his cock, beautiful and uncut, as I continue down to my knees, prepared to worship his body. I look up at him with mischief in my eyes as I run my tongue up his shaft before taking him into my mouth. He allows me several minutes of enjoying him before he pulls me to my feet and he leans back on the bed.

I straddle his legs, sitting below his hips, and I pull our box of takeout dessert toward me on the bed. I take three fingers and scoop up the chocolate ice cream and syrup. Then I stare him directly in the eye as I take my saccharine hand and wrap it around his cock.

His body tenses under me as the sting of the cold hits his most sensitive parts, but he begins to relax as I use the ice cream as lube and run my hands slowly up and down the length of him. As the ice cream warms and melts, I dip my fingers back into the dessert and repeat the tease, bringing him to life with each stroke. Once he was fully covered, and the liquid chocolate pooled on his taught abdomen and dripping down his balls, I dropped my head and covered his cock with my mouth while keeping my eyes locked on his.

The eroticism of the ice cream or the effectiveness of my lips and tongue, it’s hard to say what made him drop my gaze and moan deep and low, followed by a few unintelligible phrases slurred in that delicious British accent. I am pretty sure I hear “Fuck” and “Oh my god” and take his dirty prayer as a sign to keep going - just exactly as I am.

Then I feel a shift in his energy. His breathing becomes jagged, and I watch every muscle in his ripped body tighten up. “I’m going to cum,” he manages to get out before I taste the salty spray of him mixed with the sweetness of the chocolate. I lift my mouth off of him and see a wildness in his eyes, his breathing still heavy from the orgasm.

“Get on your back.”

I obey and change places with him. He scoops up handfuls of the chocolate and smears it delicately across my breasts, making sure the ice cream hits my nipples. I arch my back and draw a quick breath at the cold sensation. Then he brings his mouth down and one by one, takes those nipples into his mouth, warming them with his tongue and hot breath. It’s exhilarating - this sensory change and serving as the plate for his dessert.

After one particularly long draw on my left nipple he looks up at me and says, “I could be here all day enjoying your breasts, but I desperately want to be inside of you. Can we go shower?”

I take no convincing and he helps me up from the bed and warms the shower for us to step into. The warm water courses over our bodies and washes the chocolate away like an absolution. He baptizes me into the depths of pleasure again, his hands roaming my body freely and his lips on mine.

The rest of the evening with him is tangled up in limbs and forbidden delicacies. His cock filling me up and me taking my own pleasure at least twice. We collapse next to each other after we’ve both had our carnal desires sated, the towel laid protectively under us earlier on now covered in chocolate and crumpled on the floor.

He kisses me delicately before he leaves and asks that I let him know the next time I’ll be in Toronto. I promise him I will as I close the door behind him.

I say a silent prayer of irreverent thanks as I walk back into the empty room. “God, I love the English.”