Powdered Sugar
Marley Ong

A plate of calas rests on the table between two mugs of coffee, untouched by the two whom they were made for. Instead, Jules occupies this time studying his guest, the young woman responsible for cooking breakfast this late morning.

Sera doesn’t meet his eyes, her own staring down at her hands folded on her lap. The window beside them provides as much sunlight into the tiny apartment as it possibly could with a brick wall in the way. Her skin glows golden in the light.

The same skin Jules couldn’t keep neither his hands nor his lips off of last night. He gazes upon the hickeys littering her neck, a result of their ravishing.

“You didn’t have to stay, you know,” he finally says. Sera lifts her head to look back at him, eyelashes batting. An innocent expression unwonted of the woman he met who convinced him she was his succubus.

One hand reaches over the table to roll around one of the calas, powdered sugar getting on her finger. “I know,” she replies, “but I wanted to… especially after how well you treated me.” Blood rushes to her cheeks.

She likes me well, Jules deduces. The other women he’s spent his nights with would usually be gone before morning came, regardless of how well he pleased them in bed. He’d expected the same thing upon their meeting.

He remembered catching her stare at him from across the bar, and next thing he knew she was sharing a drink with him. It wasn’t long before she invited him to dance.

Hands on her hips, feeling them against his own…

Swaying side to side with her in time to the low trumpets and soft guitar strumming...

The glimpse of a devilish grin on those red-colored lips…

Meeting her in a deep kiss that sparked his desperation for more…

And the way she sang for him after he got her out of the tavern and into his bed - more beautiful than any jazz song he’s ever heard. It didn’t help that her skin was sweeter than the powdered sugar on the calas, solidifying his addiction.

A natural charmer like himself. He wanted her on a whole other level.

Reaching out, Jules grabs her hand by the wrist and pulls it closer to himself. “You have no idea what you make me want to do to you if you stay… Not without consent, of course, Seraphim.” The moment he closes his lips around her finger to suck off the sugar, he catches a spark in her eyes. Bingo.

“... Oh, I believe I do.” A familiar grin forms, driving him mad, filled with a need to kiss her again. “That’s why I’m staying.”

First published: August 2018
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