Whimsical Perfection

31. Taste

"We know what we are, but not what we may be."
                      —Ophelia, Hamlet

~♤ ▪︎ ♤ ▪︎ ♤~

"Why are you here? What happened to your little lover boy?" Isaac deadpanned as soon as I approached him, making me roll my eyes at his sardonic self. 

Was he jealous to see me with Oliver? It can't be, right?

"He's not my lover boy, or anything at all. And I came to give you company because you looked bored."

He raised an eyebrow, which was his signature move, while he studied me intently. "Oh really? You seem to care for your people so much, I'm impressed."

I leaned my back on the bar counter behind us, and stared at him, easily getting lost in his eyes. It was embarrassing to even admit it internally, but this man entranced me like no other. He was like a strong water current in the middle of a river, and I was the helpless victim who didn't even know how to swim. How was I supposed to save myself, when he was all that surrounded me everywhere I went?

In a moment of vulnerability, I just spewed out my next words. "As much as I hate to admit it, I have never talked to my staff and cast as much as I have talked to you. At this point, I might not even remember some of their names."

He gave me a satisfied smirk as soon as those words left my lips, and I groaned internally, knowing how well he was going to use this moment of weakness to his advantage.

"Now, this is a reason to abandon your party and come to me. The previous one was too good to scream Scarlett."

Hearing his low voice call out my name like that sent delicate shivers down my spine. I was suddenly transported to that evening at his penthouse, when he took me by surprise. The feeling of his hands on me, the heat of his eyes that pinned me in place with a single look, the warm mouth which could bring me to ecstacy any day, all came back to me. But it wasn't gradual, or delicate. No. It was like a floodgate of memories opening up, drowning me from head to toe.

But, it must have shown in my eyes – the raw desire that consumed me in the moment. Because, he noticed, and his eyes turned impossibly darker. I could see him getting agitated, as the atmosphere shifted from light to heavy with the snap of a finger. And I really had no one to blame, but myself.

"What are you thinking about, Scarlett? Do you mind sharing it with me?" He asked me, his voice now decked with his usual sexiness.

He was making it known to me, that he knew exactly what I was thinking about. But my stubborn ass wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not wanting to admit to his face, that he was still clearly etched in my brain, I shrugged it off.

"What do you mean? I didn't even say anything."

He sighed. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy. I was no woman who would drop to her knees for a man, even if he was Isaac. And he should know it very well.

He took a step towards me. I was at a loss at first, but then, he took another, and in that moment, I totally forgot about everyone else. The heat emanating from his body cocooned us, entrapping me and not allowing me to think of anything but him. That strong, woody smell was as intoxicating as a drug, and I was rendered powerless. He got closer, until our noses were touching, his minty breath, seasoned with vodka, fanning me delicately.

"So, you're telling me that you don't remember my lips on yours? Going down that soft, delicate and delicious throat of yours, nipping, biting and licking every inch of it? You don't remember your supple body fitting perfectly in my hands, when I carried you all the way to my bed? You don't remember my hot mouth on your very exposed breasts as you moaned and writhed under me?"

His words took my breath away. The temperature now seemed to be steaming hot, with smoke rising from between us. I gulped, looking at the fierce look in his eyes, which only promised me a night of wild, passionate sex. His gaze set my body on fire, while his crude words acted as the catalyst to it. I was speechless, for the first time, as I couldn't think of a single word to say.

Should I still play my silly game, and deny him? Or should I finally tap into my deepest desire, the one that I had immediately stashed away when I met him?

"If you don't remember, I have a solution for it. I'll walk out of here, and I'll give you five minutes. If you wish to jog your memory, come find me."

And then, he pulled back from me, finished the glass in his hand, and walked away. He actually walked away after saying all those things. I was shocked, and fuming. How dare he treat me however he wants to? But I couldn't douse the fire ignited by him, and I couldn't ignore it any further. The sweet sound of his promising words was very tantalizing for my body, and it had already started swaying in his direction.

Was it wrong to admit, that I wanted another taste? Another taste of those thick, soft, cushion-like lips, which have been imprinted in my mind since a long time. Even though I hated his entire existence, and normally wouldn't care if he disappeared from the world, I couldn't deny the fact that he was the only man who had ever dared to come close to my skills. It was just a concise taste, but somewhere in it, was hidden, a deep intensity, a power that most men didn't have.

And I wanted it. I wanted all of it. Even though I knew it's the alcohol in my system speaking, I wanted to do this at a time I won't regret.

I didn't just want a taste, I wanted to devour the whole fruit.

~♤ ▪︎ ♤ ▪︎ ♤~