🍬 Ashley — Candy Fantasy 🍬
Ashley’s pulse quickened as she opened the door to her neighbor, Jake. His charcoal eyes flickered with surprise, then amusement. “Hi,” he said, voice low, “you said something about wine?” She stepped back, inviting him in, her nerves humming like a taut string. The air between them thickened as he crossed the threshold, his presence filling the room. She offered a glass of red, her fingers brushing his. The liquid glowed like blood in the candlelight they’d lit hours ago, though the evening had stretched long beyond wine. They’d talked—weather, books, the quirks of city living—until Jake shifted on the couch, his knee pressing against her thigh. Ashley’s breath caught. She’d noticed him, of course. The way he lingered on her porch when he thought she wasn’t looking, the deliberate casualness of his smiles. But now, here, his thigh was a furnace against her skin, and she felt it—rigid, heavy, trapped in the confines of his jeans. A thick secret straining against fabric. Her throat went dry. What if he wants me? The thought surged, electric. She traced the rim of her glass, glancing up to find him watching her, jaw taut, pupils dilated. “Ashley,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her wrist. She leaned into him, the scent of his cologne—smoke and cedar—clouding her mind. Fantasies flickered: his hands on her back, the rasp of his zipper, the weight of him gliding closer, closer… She swallowed, wetting her lips. “Jake,” she breathed, and his fingers tightened on her waist. A heartbeat stilled between them. Then he stood, offering his hand. “Let’s… move to the bedroom?” His voice wavered, a question and a command. She took his hand, and in that touch, she felt the answer—his need mirroring hers, a silent confession. The world narrowed to the space between them, to the promise in his eyes, in the bulge that spoke of desires neither had voiced. As they walked, Ashley wondered if it would hurt, or if it would be like melting—hot, inevitable, the kind of perfect she’d only dared to dream of in the quiet hours. And Jake, his breath unsteady beside her, seemed to think the same. The bed loomed ahead, and the night had only just begun.