(Previously)
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I was unsure if the rising heat I
felt was from his kisses or his blatant honesty. Turning in his arms, I
searched his face for clarification. His admission to not just being a
university professor, to knowing about my mission, his desire for a second in
command, his offer of the role to me – it was so much to take in. With the
shock of the revelation behind me, I realised that I was – what? – flattered,
curious, enthusiastic, excited, guilty, worried, but above all tempted – oh so
tempted… an overload of emotions I did not expect amongst my battle spoils when
I awoke in his bed this morning.
His eyes, ever watchful, bore into
me - seeking my answer.
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(Continuing the story…)
(Continuing the story…)
My hands cupped his smoothly shaven jaw as I yielded to those emotions
- mostly to temptation - pressing my lips softly against his, my tongue seeking
out the bittersweet taste of our morning. Would he take my kiss as acceptance?
Was I accepting? I felt his arms about me, pulling me in to him as he took over
the kiss. I let my hands snake their way around his neck, caressing the back of
his head, feeling the jewelled necklace shift minutely despite its weight. But
there was something different, not just the added diamonds – yes, his hands –
they were not on me, but were tightly balled in fists of emotion gripping my
blouse. My ‘maybe’ turned all the more positive at the thought I could have
such an impact on him, this man who was so implacable. I deepened the kiss,
luxuriating in the joy of giving myself to him, knowing he was finally giving
back emotionally as well as physically. It would be a glorious partnership. We
were well matched intellectually, and I had long admired his craftsmanship and
style that was so complex yet elegantly simple. It was a pity the outcomes were
so wicked.
Reluctantly, I broke off the kiss, desperate for air despite no
problems in breathing. My head was swimming with the implications of my decision,
and I was grateful he was holding me upright. Could I really contribute to his
web of intrigues, plots and schemes – become complicit in his underworld, make
those decisions, decisions to kill?
With a pleased curl of his lips, he ran his hands through my hair, tugging
me a little closer to kiss the top of my head. He reached for the box on the
table, lifting out the earrings. Their brilliantly dangling diamonds darted
their light in and out of the sunshine of the kitchenette as they hunted out
every opportunity to shine for him.
As I looked at the little chandeliers twinkling with the music of
light, I was reminded of his fondness for those fugal pieces that ran and
chased and overlapped the paths of the hunter and hunted; that echoed in the
mind with the haunting sweet ache of melody, yet playfully corrupted that
melody in all its variations. He carefully hooked an earring into each ear, and
with so many diamonds adorning me, I had to sit for a moment. Bejewelled,
bedazzled, bewildered.
“My Vixen?” I was drawn back to his face, and saw he was fighting a
little to not reveal how amused this scene had made him. I had to smile. I
could not recall seeing him in such a good mood before.
“I believe there is a second, um, question?” I couldn’t use the word
proposal, not seeing the ring before me, still glittering in the box on the
table. I focused on breathing, wondering what he would ask of me next.
He let a smile play out briefly on his lips. “You look most regal,
Madame. I approve.” My hand went to my throat again to play with the gems that
had now warmed to my skin, this time travelling up to my ears to feel the still
cold diamonds that dangled teasingly against my neck, reminding me of his
fondness for letting his lips brush across that very same skin. He took my hand
away from my distracted play, and taking the other stood serenely over me,
raising them to hold the backs of my fingers against his lips lightly in a
prolonged kiss.
“They suit you as well as I anticipated. But you are not meant to sit
idle as a Queen, my Voracious Vixen. You were meant to run wild – hunting in
the field. I believe you have resumed such a career, and I would certainly
encourage you to continue it - for me.”
I was not surprised at his second proposal. He had asked for the
endeavours of my mind, so it was not surprising that he would also ask for the
sweat of my body. I could refuse, decide to not get my hands dirty. It would be
a possible compromise, but it seemed he knew me only too well. How soon he
discovered my love for the thrill of the chase, the action and adventure, I did
not know. But he had used it well, for he had been feeding those urges from the
first time he drew blood, biting my ear in passion and pain here in these very
rooms. Since then we had played out many an adventurous power struggle, an
adult’s truth or dare, always with the same deliciously decadent ending. My
mouth opened and closed a few times with no sound coming out. I was at a loss
for words, let alone for an answer.
Undeterred, he let one of my hands drop, and reached across the table
for the last item in the box. I was actually nervous. As he took the ring, he
turned my remaining hand palm up and kissed the inside of my wrist, delicately
trailing his lips down the centre of my palm. His tongue sensually licking
between my fingers, he finished by kissing each of my fingertips. As he reached
the thumb he nipped it gently. I smiled that he could make even one hand feel
so special, so adored. He might claim I was not meant to be a queen, but he had
a way of making me feel like one, like his queen.
He could show such tenderness that defied the cold hard mask he wore.
Who the real man was, both confused and excited me. I mused, not for the first
time, whether any other woman had seen this side of him; whether his wife had
seen or was even responsible for the cold cruelty that fed the criminal
mastermind. Again I wondered at the missing information on her, her death,
their relationship. Why he hadn’t remarried…
My musing was distracted by a sudden movement, and I now looked
straight into his face as he softly kissed the back of my hand, already down on
one knee. I felt myself take a sharp intake of air. The third question then was
to be presented as a traditional proposal. He had asked for mind and body,
there was only one thing left for him to ask of me. Still holding my breath, I
looked at him, expectantly.
“My Voracious Vixen” He paused and searched my face, trying to read it.
I didn’t know what I thought, so I couldn’t begin to imagine what he might
discover in my features.
“Your lightness reflects all the brighter off my own black heart; this...”
he held up the sparkling ring “...is but a poor imitation of your brilliance.”
He placed the ring on my finger. I had long stopped wearing any
others, giving this ring sole possession of my hand with all its traditional
symbolism of an engagement between man and woman; the sealing of a life-long
deal. One I had already made. One I was still bound by. Uncertain, I searched
his face for further explanation.
“I would have all of you, Vedika.” It was the first time he had ever
used my name. “No less. The power of your mind, the toil of your body, your
heart and soul; I would claim for my own your future, your present… yes,
Madame, even your past.”
The woman in me noticed the lack of sentiment – there was no mention
of true or undying love - nothing so insipid or vague would be his style. His
final proposal had the showmanship of love, but the practicality of a boardroom
deal. It was as cold as the jewels that encircled me, and its grasp just as
encompassing. But jewels do warm to the skin over time. And while this proposal
focused on what he wanted, it also offered a rare invitation to stand beside
him, which just like the beauty of antique jewels, he would not waste on anyone
he did not hold in high esteem.
I wanted to believe that his request to possess me, all of me - mind,
body and soul - suggested a depth of obsession to match my own. Indeed, I had
been unable to think of anyone but him since that first night together. Unable
to fathom the spell he had put me under, which consumed me equally whether he
was with me or not. In truth, he had my mind, body, and soul already, having
sired an unknown desire that had long lay dormant – I just had not admitted the
fact to him… or really to myself.
I slid off my seat onto my knees before him, my arms wrapping around
his waist and moving up his back to cling tightly to him, my face upturned to
his. “Oh, my love, I—, I— ” Overwhelmed, I sealed my fate with the familiarity
of his lips once again, that paradox of firmness and tenderness. As he stood,
he lifted me to my feet with him, leaning over me, pinching me in tight against
him, his hands pressed into the small of my back like we were the two sides of
a single peg. As he held me close, I felt his chest and mine tight together
rising and falling as one, his breath as excited as my own. The passion of his
kiss ignited fires that started in the pit of my stomach and flared out through
my body – a body no matter how light and fluid, still could not melt into him
enough.
We had made love on numerous occasions and in wickedly numerous
variations, but this was somehow different. I dared to think what it would be
like to have him now, with this commitment between us. To truly seek each other
out as partners – I did not let myself finish the phrase – in crime. The weight
and warmth of the jewels were still on me, but were nothing compared to his own
warmth and weight as he urgently pushed me up against the wall.
His kisses were a most effective defibrillator on my heart. His hands,
ubiquitously lithe, undid my blouse buttons, combed through my hair, lifted my skirt
to caress my thighs, sought to tickle soft curves, teased bare skin, and found a
heat that glowed like red coals for him; for him like this – exposed, intense,
committed. My arms like flames licked around his body, as I matched his hands’
quest with my own brazen touch and branding caresses. I could feel that he
burned for me, and I willingly unleashed that fire, eager to melt into him, his
every move kindling the flames higher. His desire ignited my own, and with
murmuring red mouth I softly moaned his name, hoarse echoes of my own returned
between white hot kisses. And so like wildfire, we roared out of control,
leaving only a shimmering heat mirage behind us, both consumed and cleansed by
the ashen beauty of our own firestorm.
His lips were still burning against my face, yet so tender, so
grateful. I realized that this was the difference. His gratitude for my
willingness to give up everything for him had unlocked some new part of him as
well. It was as if I had given him something more than just mind, body, and
soul, that yes, I had been added to his organization, but also somehow to a
greater scheme I had not fully grasped. But what had I given him that he could
not, had not, already claimed? Yes, a future with him, a glorious present, and
even a past. I hesitated… he had asked for my past as well. Why my past?
As if I’d voiced the question, he murmured into my neck “Ah, what we
can achieve together, my Vixen. We will create a dynasty like none before.”
Dynasty. Longevity. Children. Oh, children! My children?
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