Blueprint for Love by Chanta Jefferson Rand Page B

pro ball player. He devoured it in less than two
minutes. Ronnie smiled at the strawberry smear on the corner of his
upper lip.
    “ Pink is definitely your
color,” she joked. “You have some on your top lip.”
    He flicked his long tongue, caressing the
corner of his lips, but he still missed the blob of pink.
    She didn’t have a napkin, so she wiped the
leftover ice cream with her thumb. Her heart kicked as Vic grabbed
her wrist. Goosebumps puckered on her skin. The raw desire in Vic’s
gaze communicated a message for her only.
    “ I really am hungry,
Ronnie—for you.”
    She heard her sharp intake of breath as Vic
licked the strawberry ice cream from her thumb. The long, languid
strokes of his tongue felt agonizingly good. A trail of liquid fire
shot through her body and pooled like hot lava between her
legs.
    Ronnie dropped her cone to the ground as Vic
pulled her toward him. His lips found hers and within seconds, she
was lost in his kiss. Nothing prepared her for the bold onslaught
of his lips. He took total command, sweeping inside and dominating
her mouth. His strawberry-flavored kiss was all-consuming. The
taste of this tongue ignited an inferno inside her belly. She
suckled and pulled in response, letting the feel and texture of his
mouth overwhelm her senses. She pushed her fingers through the
thick strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Since the day he
swaggered into her office, she’d wondered what it would feel like
to run her hand through his thick mane. Now, she knew.
    As their tongues battled in an erotic mating
dance, Vic cradled her in his arms. His hands were everywhere. The
rough pads of his thumbs felt like heaven as they stroked her
cheeks, her chin, and the delicate flesh at the hollow of her
throat. His tongue soon followed the path his fingers blazed,
leaving a trail of fire everywhere he kissed her.
    She was helpless to stop the onslaught.
Drunk with passion. Her nipples strained against the soft cotton of
her sundress. A spiral of heat slowly uncoiled inside her. Her
coochie throbbed mercilessly. Pulsating. Pounding. Begging for
release.
    She lost herself in wild abandonment. She
hadn’t felt wanted in a long time. She was at Vic’s mercy, dangling
like a puppet at his erotic whims. Through the passion-induced fog
of her brain, she heard footsteps approach. She pulled away in time
to see an old couple stroll by. The white-haired woman clucked her
tongue disapprovingly at Ronnie.
    “ Disgraceful,” the old
woman told her companion. “You can’t even take a walk without
seeing people fornicating in the streets.”
    “ Indeed!” the old man
answered. But unbeknownst to the woman, he winked at
Ronnie.
    Ronnie’s jaw dropped.
    Vic must have seen it too because he laughed
softly in Ronnie’s ear.
    The streetlights had come on. A nearby lamp
illuminated them in the darkness.
    Mortified, Ronnie adjusted her dress.
Somehow, her leg had found its way across Vic’s thigh. This was not
funny. Not funny at all.
    “ Oh, my God!” She stood,
nearly slipping on remnants of the cone she’d abandoned earlier.
She was not prone to public displays of affection.
    “ Are you okay?” Vic
asked.
    She nodded. But she wasn’t fine. She could
barely catch her breath. All the nerve endings in her body tingled.
Vic had turned her into a pile of mush with one kiss.
    She turned to him. The raw desire still
glowed in his eyes. Apparently, being chastised by a senior citizen
had no effect on his ardor.
    “ Let’s get going,” she
said. “It’s getting late.”
    Thank goodness that couple came along when
they did. Otherwise, who knew how far she would have let Vic go? If
he could make her feel this way from one kiss, what would he be
like in bed?
     

EIGHT
     
     
    “ Yes, make that one dozen
yellow roses,” Allen told the florist on the other end of his cell
phone.
    A yellow rose signified friendship. Maybe he
should have ordered white to signify he was thinking of her. Or red
to let her know how