Page 11 of My Bloody Valentine

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.”

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