Femme Fatale

by Kirsty-Anne Still

  “Nah,” Giovanni declines the offer. “I want to find out what these two are concocting. All I know is it involves Manuel, and that little Bastardo isn’t getting away with anything any longer.”

  “If you even so much as go near our brother, I’ll have your balls,” Bruno threatens, stepping back toward Giovanni, bristling quickly. “Don’t test my patience because I will strike lucky and make you suffer.” I watch Bruno stare Giovanni down. “If I find out you so much as harmed a single hair on his head, you’ll wish you were never born into this family.”

  “You need to calm it,” Giovanni mocks, putting his hands up in mock defeat. “Seriously,” he continues and then leaves us behind.

  Bruno turns to both Carlo and me and fixes us both with an all-knowing look. “I don’t know what you’re discussing, but it’s not safe to discuss it here.”

  “Okay,” Carlo agrees. “Where’s our old man?”

  “Salvatore’s dealing with business,” Bruno says, putting his arm out for me to link onto. “Shall we go and keep people happy?” I agree by linking onto him and then he turns to our brother. “Someone was looking for you over by the bar.”

  As I’m being led away, I enter complete autopilot. I keep close to my brothers, take drinks, and lap up some attention, but my mind is solely on Zane. After another hour, I realize my father isn’t coming back, so I decide to bow out, too.

  I don’t even let the clock strike midnight before I take my moment to leave. I slip away without even being spotted.

  ***

  As I push my key to unlock the door to Zane’s apartment, I find myself musing. Love has cast this spell on me, and while I aim to be a better person because of it, I cannot stop myself from becoming deathly protective of it. Zane once bent and broke me, but that wasn’t enough to deter me. Many nights I lay awake wondering how I could allow myself right back into the position I was in before, and I could only deduce one reason – true love.

  Like the love my mother used to share, she was selfless when it came to her children. Her acts were those of someone fiercely shielding those who she loved most. It was that which ultimately led to her death, but I don’t see any other way but a full life with Zane.

  Death isn’t an option I care to choose.

  I open the door and enter fully. If anything, I’m ready to crawl into bed with my man and sleep off my alcoholic buzz, I’m living with. I walk just inside the door and turn to face it once again. I slowly push it to, trying to make as little noise as possible.

  “Well, that doesn’t leave much to imagination.” Zane’s comment drives me straight into the reality while also forcing me to spin around on the spot. I find him sitting in front of the TV, lounged out in the recliner armchair, beer in hand.

  I decide not to be deterred.

  “Hence, why I wore it home,” I muse, almost purring with seduction. I run my hands down my body as if to straighten the dress out, but really I want to strip and be given a reason to forgot the outside world all over again.

  “Not that I’m not impressed, but what happened to dinner?” he asks, and I can hear a hint of irritation.

  “My father had a welcome home party. I’ve been schmoozing and looking like-”

  I don’t get to finish as Zane interjects, “A hot piece of ass?”

  I laugh and move further into the apartment. I place my clutch onto the nearest surface and stand there, placing my hands on my hips. I feel sensuality swirl around me, latching onto me as I stand before Zane feeling like a goddess.

  I tilt my head to side, feeling ready to play this onwards. “How about you show me how hot I am.”

  His eyebrows shoot up in surprise with that comment, and the small smirk that begins to curl at the corner of his mouth forces me to act impatient.

  “What I have in mind will mean you have to trust me with that pearl necklace,” he speaks, still lounged back casually in the seat acting as if he is king. “Can you cope with that?”

  “Depends what you’re planning,” I ponder. “If I’m going to beg for freedom and fight my way out of whatever then you aren’t getting near them.”

  “Oh no,” he muses, before turning the television off and sitting forward to push the foot rest of the seat down. He places his beer down, kicks the bottom of the couch back and stands before me in nothing but sweats once again. “It’s more or less to stop you getting touchy feely and trying to take control.”

  “Oh,” I manage, my interest piquing. “Well, I guess I could be attracted to learning more.”

  “Good,” he responds, and I see a sanctimonious expression settle. “But first, I’d prefer you with less on.”

  He walks over to me, takes my hand, and leads me more into the middle of the room. As I’m left standing, he moves around me, and I feel his knuckles on my back as he takes hold of the top of the zipper. Slowly, he pulls downwards, revealing my back and my bra clasp. When he hits the bottom, he releases it sending the dress into freefall. There’s enough room for it to slip over my hips and pool at my feet.

  I now stand before Zane in sheer black panties and a plain, silk strapless black bra with my pearls as my only accessory. I feel a light breeze overcome me as my skin begins to prickle, and I wonder where the sudden feeling of tenterhooks has come from. As I feel him walk around me, I look out of my peripheral to see where he is and watch as he circles me, scrutinizing me. The vulnerability this forces over me is unlike anything I have ever felt before, but the thrill begins a riot of butterflies in my stomach. Each one dances against my ribcage, each striking their own chord of almost lyrical anticipation as I await my fate. Their wings batter against me, sending waves of heated keenness, beating me with eagerness and they only seem to calm once Zane is standing before me.

  Reaching up, his hand grazes across my jawline gently, and my eyes close as I instinctively lean against his palm. Even as it courses so, his fingers thread themselves up into my hair. The intimacy is garnering momentum, my body is becoming more alive with every passing minute on the clock, and I slowly open my eyes to look at him. Suspended in this heated rush of emotions, this building sense of sexual craving with this inner plead of salvation from yearning, Zane keeps the moment punctuated with glorious drips of expectancy. Slowly, he moves his hand down the curve of my neck, only stopping when he’s touching the necklace and now I see what he’s been waiting to show me – rapt intent. He’s preparing something wonderfully torturous, and I know I’m not going to be ready for what will come.

  I lift my head slightly, seized by his intimate approach, and feel my pearls begin to move. Zane starts to unhook them from my neck by passing them over my head, making one long line of pearl glory. Soon, I feel extremely naked now that my neck and chest are becoming bare, and my eagerness falters and transforms into nervousness.

  When he’s gotten me free of them, he moves away again, this time to my back, and I await his next move. His hands touch my mine, bringing them back and gently placing my fingers to interlink. Forcing my hands together in unison, Zane loops the first line over my hand and begins to gently hook and loop them around my wrists, at times making it tighter in places than others. This is not total surrender; this is just for him to prove a point that he can run the show.

  When it stops, I feel him take a step back, and I’m well aware of my newfound susceptibility to his will. He can command and conquer, and he knows I’ll take it because the fear of breaking this necklace will have me cautious. What a fucking bastard! He knows my weakest points, and I walked straight into this.

  Bound by my own pearls, I bite my lip. The anticipation begins to rip through me. This could be classified as another failed attempt to fulfil my duties, but as the fever pitch races over me, and his hungry eyes indulge upon me, I don't care for the murderer within, just the primal sin begging for Zane.

  He steps right up behind me. His chest is practically flush against my back. It’s primal meeting of flesh on flesh, one of the most natural feelings ever, but it casts me into a frenzied fre
efall where my skin prickles with mounting ecstasy. Immediately, he forces my hair to the side, pushing it over my shoulder so it all falls onto one side, leaving the side of my neck exposed. I’m so preoccupied as to what’s to come, I jump slightly – much to Zane’s amusement – as his hand skims over my waist, hovering over my hip only to grasp onto me as his lips lower to touch my skin. He smothers my skin with kiss after delicate kiss, enriching my need for him.

  I wonder if he can feel the rapid speed in which my blood is pulsating around my body. At first, it was the buzz of alcoholic goodness, but now my adrenaline has started pumping, and it’s burned through the liquor and is fueling me on the release of natural hormones. A dance of endorphins develops and joins the addictive adrenaline rush. With each touch of his lips, my senses loosen, quintessentially abandoning me so all I can feel is the wetness in my panties and that craving to be filled by Zane’s length.

  “I’m not making this easy on you,” he whispers against my skin, his words murmured down to a mumble. “I want you dripping. I want you begging. I want you to be completely mine.”

  My breath falters at the sound of his threat, and I worry he’ll find that I’m not far from giving him what he wants. And the feeling doesn’t weaken as his hands carry on a course over my body. They cover inch by inch of my bare skin, his fingers leaving invisible traces.

  While his kisses still preoccupy my mind, I find my bra becomes loose, and Zane allows it to fall away from my body. His hands leave my body for a millisecond before he’s moving around me, his fingertips trailing across my shoulder blades around to my front. They continue over my shoulder and down my chest, and I just watch him intently. He comes to stand before me. His fingertip deliberately goes over my breast, leaving my body once it’s made contact with nipple.

  Zane casts a smile and says nothing as his hand comes back to my body, pulling my close to him. He kisses against my collarbone, traveling down in quick succession. He bends down, kissing my breast, sensitizing it until he latches onto my nipple. He kisses and nips around the area, even striking it with his tongue, and I can feel it becoming hard to control myself. I finally moan in pleasure and the release of pent-up breath is exhilarating. His hands grab onto my biceps, moving slowly upwards to get a better grip on my shoulder so he can continue to worship my breasts, building up an orgasm in the deepest pit of me. Between his hands and lips, my body becomes a live wire and the fever pitch is too much for me to handle.

  Then I say something that shocks even me. “Stop!” My voice is torched with desperation as I say that, and I never wanted him to stop touching me faster. My body had suddenly began to ready for a cataclysmic explosion that I didn’t want to happen – at least, not until Zane was buried deep within me. “Please, Zane, I can’t take this.”

  Zane has stopped, standing back as if I’ve shocked him. He looks bemused and perplexed all at once, and he fixes me with a questioning look.

  “I need you,” I tell him, that same ooze of hopelessness. I stare him dead in the eyes, my lips parted with my panting breath after striving to hold off from caving under the power of his lips and tongue. “I want to touch you. I want to hold on when I cum.”

  “Okay,” he responds simply.

  He gives a head nod as well and agilely begins to move. He does well to remember to remove the pearls and my panties, and even as he discards those with one toss, I don’t care. He resumes his position in front of me, both of us naked and ready. He pulls me close, and I can feel the press of his hard-on against my leg. I gasp at the feel, lazily moving my gaze up his body to look him in the eyes. I scrutinize him in the hope to see what will happen, but he’s unreadable. I know he’s full of intent, and he’s ready to drive me to an ethereal state, but other than that, I can’t tell anything. Even as he pushes my panties down my body, there’s nothing readable about him.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he states, moving strands of hair over my shoulder. “I’m a lucky man that you’re all mine, Amelia.” His hand now meets my jaw in gentle ease and he leans in as it runs down to cup my chin. He uses the action to force me to look at him steadfastly, making me his victim. “All mine.”

  His reiteration riles a small bubble of humor in me, and I slit my eyes to give him a more demeaning look. I see he notices, and I smirk lavishly at him. “Will you stop fucking caressing and just claim me then.” Finally, I put my arms around his neck, still keeping my gaze on him, just now it’s wrapped with a little more tease. “I like a man who’s a little less talk and a lot more action.”

  “You’ll regret saying that, Sweetheart,” Zane remarks amused.

  “Prove it,” I coerce, garnering more power to get what I want.

  “Fine, but keep the heels on.” He grunts his words as our bodies burst with electricity and he begins to propel me backwards. “I love fucking you in those.”

  No other words are spoken, but I’m thrown back against the dresser where I left my clutch, and I’m promptly perched on the wooden edge. I have no time to think how uncomfortable it could be as he grips my thighs, throwing them up around his waist. He takes the moment of easy access to penetrate me whole and my head flies backwards, my needs met with one simple full-length thrust.

  As he pushes my legs further up, he hooks his arms under my knees and grips my hips as his momentum picks up. We’ve had foreplay to keep us well invested in one another, but this is the first time Zane’s given it his all since the shooting. Apparently, his stamina is back with a bang – because he’s banging the life out of me.

  I grab onto his arms as the orgasmic explosion becomes feral, almost at boiling point, and after a few more thrusts my body convulses, my insides clenching down around his length as my hips buck involuntarily as he continues to pump me. My breaths leave my body in low moans, pushed from me with each of Zane’s thrusts. I forget to breathe properly as he works me to a higher realm of bliss.

  And just as I begin my comedown, I feel Zane release, his grip hardens on me and stays thrust into me for a moment. I see the sweat bead his forehead like morning dew on cobwebs. His exertion amuses me, knowing I can render him to this leaves me with an everlasting lust to his kryptonite. But then I notice this isn’t sexual tiredness, his body is completely spent. He pulls away, allowing my legs to lower so I’m standing on solid flooring again. I take the time to place my arms around his neck and take a good, hard look at him and I result in frowning.

  “You okay?” I ask him curiously, noticing how remarkably tired he is. “Have you overdone it?”

  “Never,” he tells me, scooping me up and carrying me to his bedroom. “I love you,” he murmurs to me as we cross the threshold and he places me on the bed. “That was well worth the wait.”

  ***

  When I was a little girl, my grandfather used to always say these weird and wonderful proverbs, and I never used to understand them. One in particular always stuck with me -‘Frutto proibito è il più dolce’. My grandfather told us all we would find ourselves tortured by that one saying. ‘Forbidden fruits are the sweetest’ after all, and Zane is mine. Giovanni has many, Bruno has Allana, and I have Zane. However, my grandfather never actually said if they would be a good or bad thing.

  As I look at Zane, I know it’s not all bad. I know he’s the forbidden part of my life, but I greedily want him to know that he’s mine forever because there is no life after Zane Maverick. I tried to move on, but my heart only beats correctly when I think of him. Now as I lay here, my fingers tracing his tattoos while he sleeps, I realize I never want to become familiar with that life without him.

  “Mmm, that’s nice,” he mumbles sleepily, not even opening his eyes.

  “Good morning, baby,” I say and lean in a little closer to his kiss him. “I was going to go make you some breakfast.”

  He shakes his head and furrows his brows as he finally opens his eyes to look at me. “You stay, I’m going to make you breakfast for once.”

  “Zane,” I scold, remembering how exhausted he became after tha
t little exercise.

  He gives me another headshake. “No,” he counters, turning on his side to face me. “You’ve been cooking and cleaning for weeks. I’m clearly better.”

  “You’ve clearly got a little more recovery to go,” I admonish, giving him a pointed look. “You can’t rush these things.”

  “And we’re not,” he tells me, giving me a bright grin as if it’ll defuse my concern. “We tried and tested my body last night and even though, okay, I’m not ready for full-time activity like I was, I’m still on the road to recovery. I reckon I can go back to desk duty soon.”

  I pout at that comment.

  “Don’t give me that look. I could stay in bed with you forever, but some of us don’t have an endless money supply called Salvatore Abbiati.”

  “I really need to sort that out,” I mumble unhappily, falling onto my back. “I’m twenty-four and don’t have a job.”

  “You do. It’s just not very well accepted in society.” His joke is followed by a cheek laugh, and I hit him. “You know I’m right. It seems so twisted, us being together as it is. A cop sleeping with a murderer.”

  “I think it sounds so sexy,” I muse, purring almost as I do so. However, Zane continues to get up, leaving his side of the bed empty and uninviting. “Don’t leave. I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.”

  He doesn’t stop, though, and although I love the idea of breakfast in bed, I can wait just a little while longer to stay in bed with him. I can’t tell what he’s up to, but as he leans down I presume it’s to pick up a pair of boxers to put on.

  "Do you know what I can do before breakfast?" he asks, sitting on the end of the bed. He has his back to me, and I'm left guessing his expression by just the back of his head and the position of his shoulders.

  I push myself up onto my elbows. "What do you want to do?"

  "I'll give you a clue," he states and holds his hand up, his handcuffs swinging from his finger.

  I mew with pleasure and excitement bursts to life. “Now is hardly the time to play cops and robbers,” I tease him, prodding him slightly with my foot.