5. Maya
5
MAYA
T he cab pulls away, leaving me alone on the moonlit sidewalk outside Vale’s Chocolate Boutique. My silk dress whispers against my thighs as I shift my weight, second-guessing my decision to come here. The boutique’s windows glow warmly, showcasing elaborate chocolate displays that beckon me inside.
My stomach twists with nerves as I recall the lingering taste of Adrian’s creation from the event—that haunting emptiness followed by an explosion of sensation. Realizing what he’d added to create such an intimate experience should revolt me. Instead, heat blooms across my skin.
I start to feel… excited. I want to be here and give in to whatever unknowns await me.
I smooth my hands down my purple dress, its deep V-neckline suddenly feeling too bold and revealing. The glass door reflects my image: loose dark curls, red lips, and wide eyes. I look exactly like what I am—prey walking willingly into a predator’s lair.
“You came.” Adrian’s voice cuts through my thoughts. He stands in the doorway, sleeve cuffs rolled up to expose strong, inked forearms dusted with cocoa powder. His white chef’s coat is immaculate despite the evidence of his work.
“I shouldn’t be here.” It was meant to set the tone for tonight, to announce that I have some boundaries. But my voice betrays me, weaker than I’ve ever heard.
“But you are.” A calculated smile plays across his lips.
God, he’s handsome. I step inside, the door clicking shut behind me with finality. Adrian’s presence fills the intimate space, making the boutique feel smaller than it is. As he moves closer, the display cases cast amber shadows across his sharp cheekbones.
“I’ve prepared something special.” His fingers clasp my elbow, guiding me toward the back room. Every touch sparks a current beneath my skin.
The private tasting room is dimly lit. Two chairs are positioned close together at a small table. A single chocolate sits on a silver plate between them.
“You’ll need this.” Adrian holds up a black silk blindfold. Each heartbeat grows more frantic as he steps behind me. I don’t question him as the silk slides over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. His fingers graze my temples as he completes the intricate tie, lingering longer than necessary in my hair.
“Open.” His command makes me shiver. Something smooth touches my lips—the chocolate, cradled between his fingers, in offering. I part them, letting him place it on my tongue.
His hand cups my jaw, thumb stroking along my cheek. “Don’t bite. Let it melt.”
I struggle to focus on the chocolate dissolving in my mouth when all I can think about is his touch, his proximity. Her curiosity shines in her eyes. He hasn’t moved away, and waves of sensual heat roll off him.
“What do you taste?” His voice drops lower, almost a purr.
I shiver. “I—I can’t...”
“Can’t what?” His fingers skim my bottom lip.
“Can’t think when you’re touching me like that.”
A soft chuckle. “Then don’t think.” His free hand roams around my waist, drawing me to my feet. “Feel.”
My hands find his chest, solid beneath crisp cotton. My stolen sight sharpens every touch—the brush of his breath across my lips and his fingers’ strength as they trail up my spine.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, mouth hovering near mine.
I curl my fingers into his shirt. “No.”
The feather-light touch of his mouth brushing my cheek sends sparks dancing across my skin. My breath catches as his mouth traces a path to my ear, never quite making full contact.
“Your pulse is racing,” Adrian murmurs, his fingers pressed against my throat. “Are you afraid?”
I shake my head, though fear flutters in my chest—not of him, but of how much I want this. The blindfold makes me vulnerable, heightening every sensation.
His thumb strokes along my jawline with deliberate precision. Even in this charged moment, his movements remain calculated and controlled. There’s no rush, no desperate grab for pleasure. Adrian orchestrates each touch like he crafts his chocolates—with meticulous attention to detail.
“Please,” I whisper, turning my face toward where I think his mouth is.
“Patience, little critic.” His lips graze my temple. “Some flavors need time to develop.”
His fingers drift down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I lean into him, seeking more contact, but he holds me steady with an iron grip on my hip. The space between us crackles with electricity, yet he preserves that infuriating distance.
“Your review said my chocolates lack soul.” His words caress my ear. “But I think you’re beginning to taste what lies beneath the surface.”
I clutch at his shirt, fighting the urge to pull him closer. Every cell in my body screams for more, but Adrian’s control never wavers. His touch remains precise, calculated—a master playing his instrument with perfect restraint.
“Another.” My voice is breathy as Adrian places the next chocolate against my lips.
This one starts with deep cocoa notes that melt into something complex—bitter almond, a hint of cherry, and underneath it all, that same mysterious element I can’t identify. There’s a metallic undertone that makes my skin crawl.
“What’s in these?” I run my tongue across my lips, trying to chase the taste.
“Trade secret.” His fingers trace my collarbone. “But you sense it, don’t you? The special ingredient.”
A chill races down my spine. There’s something wholly unsettling about that taste—something that speaks of fear and muffled screams. My body responds with a contradictory mix of arousal and revulsion.
“One more.” Adrian presses another chocolate to my mouth. “This is from my private collection.”
The moment it melts on my tongue, everything shifts—stronger. The mysterious element pulses through the ganache like a heartbeat. My synesthesia explodes with fear and pain, making my stomach lurch.
I reach up to remove the blindfold, but Adrian catches my wrist. “Not yet.”
“These aren’t normal ingredients.” My voice shakes. “There’s something wrong.”
His thumb strokes my pulse point. “Wrong? Or more honest than you’re ready to admit?”
That metallic taste clings to my taste buds, leaving me dizzy. Each chocolate has contained it, but this last one... My mind shies away from the implications, even as my body hums excitedly.
“What have you been feeding me?” I whisper.
His lips skim across my ear. “Life itself, Maya. Pure, distilled emotion.”
“Why won’t you just tell me?” I press my palms against his chest. My frustration blooms, woven with a yearning for more. The blindfold heightens every sensation.
“Trust must be earned.” Adrian’s fingers draw patterns down my arm. “I’ve spent years perfecting these recipes. Each ingredient is... specially sourced.”
“I could help you. My palate?—”
“Your gift is precisely why I must be careful.” His touch disappears, leaving me cold, and the clink of glass resonates nearby. “You taste things others can’t.”
“And that’s bad because...?”
“Because knowledge can be dangerous.” The sound of liquid being poured. “Some secrets need to stay buried until the right moment.”
His hand cups the back of my neck. “Open your mouth.”
Cool glass touches my lips. The liquid slides across my tongue—rich, creamy chocolate with deep notes of vanilla and that same mysterious ingredient but transformed.
“What do you think?” His thumb wipes a drop from my bottom lip.
“It’s...” My synesthesia picks up the pain again. “Complex. The base notes are... unnerving.”
“My own creation. A chocolate cream liqueur unlike anything else in the world.” His voice drops lower. “I make it in small batches. For special occasions.”
The alcohol warms my blood, making my head swim. Or maybe it’s his proximity, the way his fingers brush my skin deliberately.
“Another taste?” He doesn’t wait for my answer before pressing the glass to my lips again.
The liqueur slides down my throat, warming me from the inside out. Each sip makes my thoughts hazier and my inhibitions lower. Adrian’s touches become bolder, his fingers trailing patterns on my bare shoulders.
“How many of these have I had?” I do my best to hold my voice steady.
“Worried I’m trying to get you drunk?” His breath fans across my neck.
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“I prefer my guests... aware.” His hand molds to my face. “Dulled senses defeat the purpose of our tasting, don’t they?”
I lean into his touch despite myself. “Then why the alcohol?”
“The liqueur opens up different flavor profiles. Helps you taste...” His thumb grazes my bottom lip. “...deeper notes.”
But there’s something calculated about how he keeps the glass at my lips and measures each pour. The blindfold makes me feel defenseless, unable to track how much I’m drinking. I can’t tell if the room tilts from the wine or his closeness.
“I should go.” The words escape in a hurried whisper.
“Should you?” His other hand slides to my waist. “Your body says otherwise.”
He’s right. Every nerve ending crackles with awareness. The liqueur has loosened my muscles and made me pliant under his touch. But my mind remains sharp enough to recognize the danger—and to want it anyway.
“How much of this is the alcohol?” My hand moves for the blindfold.
Adrian’s fingers encircle my wrist. “You know it’s deeper than that.” His grip is gentle but firm. “You’ve been craving this since you first tasted my special chocolate.”
His fingers trace patterns up my sides, each touch deliberate and maddening. The silk blindfold continues to heighten every sensation as Adrian’s hands trace the contours of my waist, never straying too far but somehow making me ache for more.
“Your skin is so responsive.” His thumb follows my collarbone, drawing a shiver from me. “Every touch makes you come alive.”
I grip the counter’s edge behind me, trying to steady myself as his fingers drift across my throat. He measures my pulse, a satisfied hum escaping him when he feels it racing.
“Please...” The word slips out.
“Such sweet begging.” His touch burns against my skin. “What are you asking for?”
His other hand trails my bare arm to my shoulder, rendering me speechless. His touch is feather light as he traces the strap of my dress, following it down to where it meets the fabric at my chest.
I yield to his touch, seeking more, but Adrian maintains that maddening distance. His fingers dance across my stomach, making me tense. Every caress builds the tension coiling inside me.
“Your heart’s pounding.” His palm flattens against my sternum, feeling each rapid beat. “Are you afraid? Or excited?”
“Both,” I whisper, tilting my head back as his hand slides up to my throat again.
He cups my jaw while his other hand continues its torturous exploration of my waist, hip, and lower back. Each touch is precise, never crossing any lines but somehow more intimate than if he had.
“You’re trembling.” His fingers trace my spine through my dress.
I am. Every nerve ending is on fire, desperate for more than these teasing touches. But Adrian maintains perfect control, his hands never straying beyond what’s proper even as they drive me mad with want.