Bittersweet Chocolate (5 page)

Catechism, trigonometry, and chemistry were right up there with gang skills as useful job-hunting experience.

Returning to the apartment, she stored the groceries, put water on to boil for angel hair pasta, then put a bottle of Pinot Grigio in the fridge to chill. Her parents had given her a few bottles of Pinot as a housewarming gift, insisting every household should have a variety of beverages to serve guests.

She wasn’t a drinker, had a beer or a glass of Sangria on occasion. Not so, her parents, who entertained a lot, knew quite a bit about alcoholic beverages, and insisted their daughters learn the etiquette of entertaining. She considered wine was for cooking, which was her intended use for most of the Pinot. Her guests could drink what she had available―Kool-aid, Pepsi, ginger ale, or
btob,
bring their own beverage. But tonight
was
a special occasion, one glass of wine would work, because she wanted to impress.

She sautéed the shrimp in butter, with chopped onions, diced celery, tenderly grilled mushrooms, and one-quarter cup of Pinot. Adding the pasta to the boiling water, when ready, she drained it, set it aside, and whipped up a creamy white sauce. She combined the shrimp mixture and white sauce, sprinkled it with cayenne pepper, and left it to simmer while she set the table.

Dinner preparations complete, she was eager for their first meal together to be perfect, but doubted food would be the primary thing on Joel’s mind.

Shucking out of her clothes, she flossed, brushed, and gargled, then took a soothing hot bath. After drying off, she stood at the sink, examining her reflection in the mirror while she brushed her hair then twisted it into a knot on top of her head. She shimmied into navy-blue Wranglers, a pale blue tank top, and spritzed herself with Shalimar.

She went into the living room, turned on the stereo, and tuned the radio to WDAS AM. The smooth sound of Smokey Robinson and the Miracles filled the room. Moving through the rooms, lighting candles and incense, setting the mood, the taunting fragrance of jasmine permeated the apartment.

Marissa intended her first sexual experience to be romantic and memorable.

Joel arrived home, went straight into the bathroom, showered, and redressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt before joining her at the table. During dinner he complimented her on the meal, expressing his surprise at her skills, and questioned her about any other hidden talents she might have. Meal finished, they cleaned the kitchen, working in companionable silence.

Dishes washed, dried, and put away, counters cleaned and the floor swept, he leaned against the counter and watched her replace the broom and dustpan in the closet. She turned, he tugged her into his arms, and she went without resistance, his slow and determined kiss seducing her into submission.

She never could recall how they ended up in the bedroom.

No doubt, she wanted to make love with him, as much as she thought he wanted her, but when he started removing her clothes, she became nervous.

Geez. After reading everything about intercourse that was available to her, the only thing she seemed to focus on was the first time, included pain. How much pain, or how she’d react to that pain—she didn’t do pain well.

Pulse racing, skin tingling from the touch of slightly callused hands brushing against her skin, she tensed when he slipped her tank top over her head, dropping it to the floor. Braless, his hands settled on her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples. His hands inched down her abdomen, her muscles contracting beneath his touch.

He reached for the snap, then zipper on her dungarees, made short work of unfastening both, and slipped his hand beneath her cotton panties. She jerked forward, pressing into his touch.

“
Mmm,
we’ll be more comfortable on the bed.” Hands firmly on her hips, he held her while she stepped out of the panties and dungarees puddled at her feet. She settled on the bed, but he remained standing, his gaze roaming over her naked body. She’d never felt so exposed.

Heat strafed her cheeks as he removed his clothing and she had her first glimpse of a nude, fully aroused male, up close and personal. To her, he was perfection, all smooth caramel-colored skin and toned muscle. She reached out and explored his body, hands easing across defined pecs covered with sparse baby-fine hair. Her palms rubbed over the tiny nipples and felt them pebble, before her hands moved lower, sliding down across a taut six-pack.

Muscles tensed as her fingers threaded their way through the tangle of curly short hairs and settled on the warm, silky-smooth skin covering a rock-hard erection. Gaze moving to his face, she watched his eyes close, myriad expressions altering his features. He couldn’t tolerate her exploration for more than a moment before he grabbed her hands and moved them away.

Dropping down on the bed, he stretched out beside her, brought her hands up to his mouth and kissed her palms, tongue teasing erogenous areas she had no idea existed. He stroked her body, fingers slipping between her thighs as he took possession of her mouth.

She welcomed the invasion, matching his urgency with her own desperate need. Cupping her breasts, he released her mouth and kissed, licked, and nibbled his way down the column of her neck. Electrifying pleasure surged through her nervous system when the hot velvet touch of his tongue teased each nipple. Even though she’d read different accounts of various sex acts, she never imagined a person derived so much gratification from those actions.

Reaching out to touch him, he grabbed her hands and pressed them against her sides as his mouth moved down over the triangle of curls. His tongue delved between the soft folds of flesh, slid across her clit before sucking the sensitive nub inside all that hot, wet moisture. Tingling heat suffused her body and, heart tripping, her breath escaped in short staccato bursts. Then she tensed.

On the verge of learning the truth behind the sexual hype, not knowing what to expect―Joel pulled away.

Bewildered, she looked at him, and for several seconds, he stared back with an indecipherable expression. “Wh-what’s wrong?”

“How badly do you want it?”

She relaxed, assuming his question was part of his lovemaking technique, even though he’d chosen the wrong moment to express himself. Smiling, she said, “Very much.” His face distorted with distaste, he remained silent, and she realized he hadn’t been teasing. Stomach knotting, her earlier confusion vanished, nudged aside by mounting irritation.

“What do you mean, how badly do I want it? I thought our needs were the same. Clearly, I’m wrong.” He continued to regard her in silence, a malicious smile transforming his features.

In her current vulnerable position, she had that same feeling of foreboding she’d felt the night they met, and continued to ignore, damn it. Would she never learn to accept the psychic mumbo jumbo the family insisted she had? More often than not, it was right, but it didn’t come with any special powers, so big damn deal.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She kept her voice calm, trying not to provoke him, while attempting to keep a leash on her temper.

As quick as he’d let her go, he gathered her into his arms, stroking her neck and shoulders, a soothing gesture, but it didn’t work. She had the distinct impression he was playing some kind of game, but what...why. Was that how he got his rocks off?

Reclaiming her mouth with vengeance, his hands moved persistently over her body, working her, attempting to recapture the fervor.
Uh-uh,
he’d made her uneasy. She resisted his efforts, struggling to remain aloof, fighting the feelings, but the conflict became unbearable, and she lost the battle.

He moved between her legs, reached toward the nightstand, retrieved a foil-wrapped condom, and ripped it open. Gaze riveted on her face, he rolled the condom over his erection. Expecting discomfort, she tensed, holding his gaze as he started to ease inside her. His easy smile reassured her and she relaxed her rigid posture—a scream erupted from her throat.

He’d brutally ripped into her with a total disregard for her virginity. She bucked, trying to throw him off, but he pressed down on her, refusing to move away. Stunned, vision blurred by tears, she saw a vicious, taunting smile alter the contours of his mouth. Realization dawned. No easing in, no pausing to allow her to adjust, suggested deliberate intent to cause serious pain or injury.

“Not untouchable now, huh?” he mocked.

Said so casually and unemotionally, suspicion confirmed. Adrenaline-fueled anger fast-tracked its way through her veins, pain forgotten. Teeth clenched, she demanded, “Get the hell off me, you son of a bitch.” Fear was never a definitive word in her vocabulary, not likely this asswipe intimidated her.

He didn’t budge, but his demeanor changed and that disturbed her more than his viciousness. With an expression of remorse, he pleaded, “Marissa, please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never hurt you intentionally.”

“Get. Off.”

“Marissa...”

“No, don’t go there. You did that on purpose. Move,” she retorted, pushing against his chest.

“Baby, listen. That wasn’t my aim, I’ve been frustrated...don’t be angry.”

What a fool. Believing she loved the jerk, she let him cajole her, and subsequently fell for his line of crap. Besides, positioned as they were, he had control, and the pain had subsided.

He recaptured her mouth, tongues clashed, all over spit exchange, and he started moving inside her with slow determined thrusts. Pissed as she’d been, she responded, countering his moves, beginning to like the feel―he grunted and collapsed on her.

That’s it!

If that’s what the hype was about, she felt cheated, or was something wrong with her because she didn’t get it. No pun intended. She glanced at his face and caught a glimpse of a smug smile and suspicion returned. Was his contentment a result of the ultimate in sexual pleasure, at least for him, or her submission?

He rolled off her, peeled off the condom, tied it off, and dropped it in the wastebasket beside the bed before he turned and apologized again. “Baby, I’m sorry, but you made me wait so long.”

She bounded up into a sitting position. Uh-uh, hell no, he was not getting off that easily. Out of the throes of sexual expectation, thinking clearly, her mouth opened, words at the ready... He put his hand over her mouth.

“No, wait. Please, let me finish.” She frowned and his hand dropped away. “I know, having to wait is no excuse for my behavior, but I’ve been frustrated.”

Keeping her voice calm, she remarked, “Uh-huh, so you said. But come off it, what was that really about?” For several seconds, his eyes avoided hers, and with a pitiful look of appeal, he turned on the charm that had first attracted him to her.

“Okay. It was the fellas, razzing me about you being a virgin and untouchable, said I wasn’t man enough. You made me wait a long time, Marissa.”

“What a crock of shit,” she sneered. “And why would I be a topic of conversation between you and the fellas? What, you needed guidance on being a man?” His eyes narrowed, but she didn’t care. Her pissed trumped his irritation. Let him get an attitude. “As frustrated as you may have been, if you’d put as much time and effort into getting to know me as you’ve dedicated to listening to your friends, you would have known I’ve been just as frustrated. The difference is I’d never hurt you without provocation.”

“Please accept my apology,” he coaxed.

Sighing, she said, “Yeah, but let’s not do this again, because you really need to understand one thing about me. Over the years, I’ve acquired some nasty habits, growing up the way I did. If someone hurts me, and this might sound asinine, but I get this insatiable urge to retaliate.”

“Never again, I swear.” He pressed a quick kiss on her mouth, turned over, and in a matter of seconds, rhythmic snoring drifted back toward her.

She remained leaning back against the headboard, nibbling her bottom lip, and lost in thought. Something about the incident and ensuing apology bothered her. Sure, pain had been inevitable, but the way he’d hurt her, his look had been malicious. And what he’d said afterward had been total crap. Maybe the believing in love thing was distorting normal acuity, because she’d let him con her.

Hell. For her first time, she’d wanted memorable. He’d given her unforgivable, and with her disposition, that wasn’t a good thing.

Easing to the edge of the bed, she grabbed her robe, shoved her feet into her slippers, and trudged into the bathroom. She closed the door, looped the robe over its hook, walked to the tub, flipped the stopper, and turned on the faucets.

While the tub filled, she moistened a washcloth, added a smidgen of soap, and cleaned away the bloody discharge trickling down her thighs. Rinsing out the washcloth, she draped it across the hamper. By then, the steamy hot water had reached the right level and she turned off the taps.

She climbed into the tub and sank into the water’s soothing depths. Closing her eyes, she leaned back, sighed and relaxed, allowing the heat to work its magic and alleviate the discomfort.

Whatever Joel’s problem had been, she assumed he’d worked it out of his system. He did apologize and promised it wouldn’t happen again.

Memories of her strange encounter with Joel were uppermost in her mind when she woke the following morning. He’d left early. Said he’d be on the road for three weeks. She had conflicting emotions about his absence, fluctuating between unease and relief.

What happened to the unquestioning love she thought she had for the man? Did one night of discord diminish that love, or were her feelings only about the physical? But they had dated for two years, had talked about marriage, children. Wasn’t that the gist of the loving process?

Hell. She didn’t have time to dwell on their relationship. It would have to work itself out. She had a job to go to, it was month-end close. She was the controller’s secretary/accounting clerk, and she had to put in long hours when the accounting department closed the books each month.

Perhaps having Joel on the road during those times, to come home to solitude, might be a good thing.