Tasting Candy: Over 60 Erotic Pregnancy Stories

My heart skipped a beat. I actually loved, more than anything, a really good home cooked meal. Something about the warmth, the smell of it cooking, the real love and passion that went into the preparation. It was so intimate and I couldn’t hide my broadening smile.

“That sounds really cool,” I said, trying to play it off as if it were nothing.

“Oh, he was hoping you’d think that,” Jordan said from the back. “This fancy guy here took cooking classes and all, off in Montreal,” he said, reaching out to give his cousin’s shoulder a prod.

Marcus, as ever, showed not a single sign of being bothered by that.

“I’m gonna make some Coq au vin that I’m sure you’ll like, Lynn,” he stated simply.

The drive wasn’t too long. Our island wasn’t huge after all, and though the country homes were often rather spaced apart, traffic was always low, so it was speedy getting about. We arrived at their apartment building in no time, and Marcus got out to open my door and offer me his arm again.

I took it, but only because I desperately needed it to help me balance. My knees were quaking, and I was still having a difficult time believing that I’d agreed to this date.

I looked between them, my brows furrowed a bit as I breathed in the fresh, evening air, and allowed Marcus to lead me inside. I could already smell it cooking, the rich, heavenly scents filling the air, and I breathed them in with such interest. It didn’t smell like anything my family had ever prepared, but I could feel my mouth watering.

“Oh wow,” I muttered, leaning down to take

off a heel.

Their apartment was a mix of two things: stylish and manly. Stylish because of the simple yet elegant drapes, the modern furniture so sharply arranged. Manly because it still showed a hint of messiness, with a hooded sweater out of place atop the back of the sofa. But the aroma of fragrant foreign food overpowered all.

“Come get seated, it’s all ready to be served now,” Marcus said, as he led me over to the table, adorned with a maroon cloth that matched the drapes and a bottle of wine already uncorked and ready. He pulled out my chair for me and all, helping me sit like such a gentleman.

Which, honestly, I was really happy for since then my knees could knock under the table a bit more discretely. I felt so warm, so excited, and I wasn’t used to feeling like that, as I looked after him, watching him serve up the meal.

“Where’s Goldie?” I managed, my words a lot softer than I’d intended.

“Ah, Marcus there insisted we have her stay with some friends of mine. Didn’t want her bowlin’ you over again this evening,” Jordan said, sounding a little perturbed by the absence of his dog, but smiling over at her nonetheless. “Sorry again about earlier,” he said.

I smiled bashfully and wanted to reassure him, but out came the handsome Marcus, brandishing his finely prepared French cuisine up on ovular plates. He put down mine first, the chicken served with carrots, mushrooms and potatoes, a rich aroma rising off it as I looked down.

“It’s braised with red wine, not the Burgundy I’m used to using. Turns out the local liquor store is not that well equipped,” Marcus said with a smile as he laid out his and his cousin’s meal too, then set to pouring up our wine with a flourish.

“I hope you enjoy,” he said with a bright – no brilliant! – smile, just for me.

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” I said, but the heady way I said the words made it sound borderline naughty, I thought, and instinctually blushed. I wish I didn’t do that so often around Marcus. It just drew more attention to me, and I reached for my fork to hopefully distract him.

The meal was so pleasant, even Jordan was well behaved with his cousin. The three of us talked, and Marcus told us so much about where he’d been, the thing’s he’d done. And what amazing things they were too! He’d travelled all about, working his way across Europe, spent some time in the Caribbean and South-East Asia.

I didn’t even notice how much wine I was drinking, but the food was so delicious, the wine so tasty, and Marcus’ stories so engrossing, I was lost to it all.

“Wanna take a seat on the couch?” Marcus asked me, and my world was all a bit hazy and swirly. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to go for a walk, but I don’t think you’re up for that,” he said so sweetly.

And I let out a little, stupid giggle. He was right. I wasn’t much up for a walk, not when I just felt so warm and safe, even as my skin prickled and I felt like my insides were replaced with butterflies. I was... smitten.

And so I let him take my hand, guiding me over to the plush sofa and taking a seat in the middle, crossing my legs so daintily.

“I’ve never even been outside the town,” I confessed, blushing as I looked down at the ground. “You must think I’m so boring.”

“No, not at all,” Marcus said to me so charitably, his arm going around my shoulders as he sat right there beside me. “I came here to quiet down. Living a life like that got very stressful, I couldn’t take it anymore. I finished my training and I just wanted to crash. So I came here, to start a nice quiet life for myself,” he said, smiling at me with his hand resting on his own knee, brushing against my thigh.

Jordan, meanwhile, sat on the other side of me

and though I was too tipsy and smitten with Marcus to notice

he was rather infatuated with me.

I’d never thought about him like that. Well, honestly, I’d never thought of anyone like that. Not until Marcus, and for some reason, that made the way Jordan was stroking my side okay. Nice even.