by L. C White
“It’s hmm…” I’m lost for words.
“Fuck. What did you expect. We’re to be married,” he states firmly. “This is yours.”
“Mine, not ours?”
“Well, you certainly know how to put a dampener on a perfectly good gesture.” He’s frowning, hard.
“A gesture?”
“Sorry, I should know not to use that word with you.” He’s growing more pissed-off with me by the second.
I’m being a bitch about this, but it wouldn’t bother me if we lived in a cesspit, as long as we’re together. I'm used to the poky two bedroom flat I shared with Cate in the rough district, and now I have this. Of course I’m finding it difficult to get my head around. He’s called it a gesture of all things. And for me, not us. I don’t get it.
“So you’re not planning on moving in here with me?”
His peeved eyes soften. I don’t want to stay here alone, and he’s coming across as though this is like some secret mistress’s place. Somewhere he can get laid and leave. Is he planning on keeping me separated from his vampire life? Because that’s not something I want.
“Look, of course I’m going to be here with you.” He arches over the kitchen island and nears my face. “Well, most of the time.”
I’m still not buying this. We’re getting married and he wants to live two different lives.
“Most of the time?”
“Elizabeth, I don’t want you living with me at The Shard,” he says. “It’s not a proper home. It’s business to me.”
“It’s never felt that way to me,” I utter.
He smiles. “Is this a sentimental thing?”
“No but…” I clam up for a second. “You don’t have to go all out and impress me,” I bravely say. “I want to be a part of your life. Not hidden away in some fantastic apartment, wondering where you are. You once told me you wouldn’t hide who you are and what you do. I don’t want to be left in the dark, that’s all.”
“And you won’t.” He places his hands against the worktop, blocking me inside his arms. “I’m not doing any of this to impress you. You’re going to be my wife, and I didn’t want to be with you in the place I work most days.”
I let out a lengthy sigh because he has me where he wants me: sweetened, yielding, and desperately wanting his touch.
“You can keep your job. You can do whatever you want. I’m not going to stop you.” He sweeps his fingers down my cheek. “But if I want to purchase something for you, no matter what it is, whether you like it or not, I will.”
He is my sweet-talking pushy sex god. I purr out slightly with a quiver in my lungs.
“Later baby.” He reads my lusting eyes. “Now, I want you to go and explore.” He moves aside to let me free.
Wow, I can’t believe this is my new place; sorry our new place. Everything is wonderful. I strain to keep my jaw shut in amazement, as I notice every detail. The deco, the lighting, the shine on the real red wood flooring throughout.
I’m standing before a double glass panel door, telling myself not to start giggling. Because that’s how I feel, feverish, like a kid in a sweet shop.
I stroll down a wide hallway. The flooring is a cream marble with a brown patterned inlay all the way around the edges. There is a suede beige chaise lounge to my left (clearly for show) and to my right there’s a Georgian tallboy.
There are three doors, one to each side of me, and one straight ahead. God, which one do I go through? Now I am giggling to myself. I cannot contain it. I peek over my shoulder, just to make sure he’s not witnessing my hysteria, and open the door right ahead.
“Shit…” I utter breathless, walking upon the thickest cream carpet my feet have ever felt.
I’m now standing in mine and Adrien’s bedroom. It’s off the scale of anything I imagined. Magnificent and spacious are not words that do it justice. It’s individual and is exactly what I would have chosen. The walls are a dusky grey with a tone of violet. The window consist of four huge black bi-folding glass doors, which open out into a small contemporary garden area.
I turn to the bed. It’s queen size, with a tall curved black panel headboard, and a small foot base. I walk nearer, admiring how elegant the bed has been dressed, with plump crisp white pillows and satin sheets.
My heart is racing with curiosity. I’m laughing to myself again as I open a door next to the black bedside table. Jeez, this has to be Adrien’s. It’s like he’s brought his walk in wardrobe here from The Shard. He has suits and shirts in order like soldiers, and his tie fetish has followed too. However, he has more space dedicated to his casual attire and footwear, which tells me he wants to make this his home. He wants to be comfortable here.
I close the door and head to another door opposite the bed. I feel the wall and turn on a dimmer switch. I’m looking in our bathroom: all tiled, with his and hers matching smoked glass bowl sinks, beneath an unforgiving mirrored wall. There’s even a wet-room, confined in opaque glass, and a large square sunken bathtub, big enough for two.
I turn off the light and back up into the bedroom, dumbstruck. Places like this don’t happen to me. Over the months I’ve got to know Adrien, his tastes and his ways. And when I said yes, I had absolutely no expectations from him at all. Frankly, you forget your surroundings when you love someone. Money doesn’t matter. Objects and possessions don’t mean squat. I saw right through the luxury at The Shard, because Adrien to me is more important.
To hell with it. I leap and dive onto the scrumptious mattress, my legs and arms doing the starfish as I chuckle.
“So you like the place then?” Oh crap, he’s been watching me. “You can fill yours up when you’re ready.”
I bite on my cheek, embarrassed, watching his sexy silhouette in the doorway.
“Fill what?” I sit up as he saunters over.
“Your closet.” He looks to the one door I didn’t open. “We can make a day of it. I’ll be your chauffeur. I’ll even be your official bag carrier,” he smiles.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Elizabeth,” he says in a deep disappointed tone, as he angles down over me. “You know I don’t like the word no. It doesn’t suit you, and it displeases me.”
I’m thinking of the movie Pretty Woman, and I don’t want to compare myself to a hooker. I’m all for a little retail therapy, and if he wants to buy me some nice underwear, then that’s fine. But I refuse to buy clothing with plastic that clearly states his name. Or worse still, paraded into every top designer shop on Bond Street, to be dressed and fussed over like a Barbie doll.
“Well it displeases me being told what to do,” I flirt, hoping to change the subject. “I will however think about it, now that we live in this amazing apartment.” I bite my lip, waiting for him to take me.
“Okay.” He crawls up my tingling body. “I’m glad you like it. I love seeing you smile.” He kisses me. “It turns me on.” He pulls away with a fuck-me wink.
Yes, marvellous sex coming right up. I kiss him back with happy eyes when he stops accepting my touch, and kind of immobilises to listen to something.
“What was that?” he muffles as I nibble his lip.
“Nothing.” I try to pull his head back to me.
“You’re hungry.” He stands up from the bed, quick. “I can’t concentrate with that human noise coming from your gut.”
“I am?” I scowl, frustrated.
“Come on, I’ll fix you some food.”
I can’t believe he’s walking away from me. I’m not hungry; well, I don’t feel hungry. I would much rather roll around in these sheets with him than eat food.
I stand in our kitchen as he pulls the door open on the mammoth double fridge. Wow, that is one well stocked fridge, considering he doesn’t need to eat much. Half of that food will go to waste. He takes out a bottle of wine and turns to me.
“Well… ideas?”
I take a good look, shelf to shelf. I don’t particularly want to eat alone. He says I’m hungry, but I’m not. That bubbling you get when you ne
ed food, was an excited bubble because I needed him inside me.
“Elizabeth?” he huffs out.
“Okay, I’ll cook, but will you eat with me?”
“Hmm.” He’s reluctant. “Sure.”
“I’m not going to poison you,” I smile. “I’ve figured out you’re on some bland baby food diet.”
I look in the fridge, trying to work out what I can cook for a vampire on a staple diet of blood. There’s plenty of meat to choose from. But my god, the joints in here will take hours to cook, and would easily feed two dozen.
“Go get my things from the car while I figure out what’s what in this kitchen,” I say, scanning the inbuilt oven that has way too many knobs and buttons.
“Oh, a domestic goddess,” he laughs, walking to the door.
I know he can eat flavourless foods, so I resort to the basics: eggs, butter, and cheese for a simple omelette. I search each cupboard for the utensils I’m going to need. It’s taking me an age to find stuff in here. I now have a bowl, whisk, frying pan, but no plates to serve on.
Adrien returns, I can’t see his face, he’s hidden behind the three wide boxes he’s carrying. He plonks them onto the floor next to the glass panel doors.
“Adrien, where are the plates?”
He shrugs his strong shoulders as he strolls over. He opens every cupboard and the further he gets down the kitchen worktop, the more he slams, bangs, and mutters in frustration.
“It’s fine, I’ll find something to use.”
“No it’s not. I specifically told Sara to get everything you’d need,” he stresses.
Okay, this is getting a little out of hand. The full fridge that’s going to rot away when there are starving people out there in the world. The hundreds of herbs and spices only I can eat, and his stress level over some missing plates is way over the top.
“Adrien, she’s a vampire and doesn’t really need to eat off plates,” I say. “Perhaps it slipped her mind. It’s nothing to worry about.” I bend and pull out two placemats from beneath the sink. “Look, these will do.”
“Elizabeth, we’re not going to eat off those. It’s a ridiculous idea.”
“Yes I am, and so are you.” I put them next to the carton of eggs. “You need to relax; try to be a little more human.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, walking to the door to go and fetch the rest of my things.
I see a digital radio beside a small black coffeemaker. Music might help me unwind, get our first meal on the go, and make this seem more real. I flick on the button and see the small green lit screen on aux usb, track one. Oh yeah, this is more like it. The silence has now been drowned out by some melodic dubstep. Music that reminds me of The Mill. I turn up the volume and whisk away, as Adrien goes through the panel doors with my boxes. I tilt my head to have a nosy at his firm backside, feeling lucky and loved.
I’ve managed to make meal number one in our new home. Okay, I’m serving it on black placemats, and it’s a tad charred around the edges, but I’m sure it’s edible.
I set the dining table, open a bottle of wine, and place Adrien’s egg only omelette down while calling him. He walks through, peering down at my attempts to garnish what looks crap with a sprig of parsley, amused.
“Wine?” I ask.
“Hold on, I have a better bottle than that.” He heads into the kitchen.
“So there’s a wine cellar here?” I ask as I take a seat.
He returns and pops the cork out of one of his vintage bottles.
“Unfortunately not. Although I may look into turning your closet into one, as soon as you don’t require it,” he says with a smile as he sits down.
He rotates the placemat, scrutinising his dinner. God, I feel bad for making him eat with me, when he clearly doesn’t want it. I try not to draw much attention to the fact I’m not so keen on eating mine either, as I move it around with my fork, noticing just how cremated it is. After all, a chef must be able to eat his own food. Just to prove that point, now I’ve got it inside my mouth, and the burnt bits are sticking to my teeth.
Adrien cuts off a small piece and reluctantly hovers it near his lips.
“It’s fine Adrien,” I say. “It’s bloody awful.” I spit it out into my napkin.
“Oh thank fuck.” He giggles.
“Do you not miss it… food?”
He takes a sip of his wine. “No. It was strange at first, not eating, but it’s one less thing to worry about.”
“What about everything else?” I lean over the table. “Like the clothes and the music. You seem relatively up to date with everything.”
“I definitely do not miss the clothes: itchy, smelly, damp, and dirty,” he frowns. “And the music, well, I’ll listen to anything, and whatever year it is, that just seems to flow with the present time. Can we please change the subject?” He gazes under his brow, annoyed. “It’s a lost period for me. I’m with you now, and I really don’t wish to discuss it.”
Oh crap, I thought it was a good conversation topic. When I was living at Cates and stayed with him, what did we talk about then? Hmm, that’s right Liz, you didn’t talk of much, you were too busy, getting busy.
“All I’m saying is, this is our time.” He takes my hand and stands up from the table. “This is all I want to think of… Dance with me.” He pulls me up to my feet and coils me into his arms, fast like a yoyo.
I rest my head on his chest. Goose-pimples travel down my spine as we sway body to body to the sound of Justin Timberlake’s, Mirrors. Each beat he leads perfectly. His back slinks in time, and I can’t help but caress his supple firm curves with my fingertips.
“It never occurred to me,” he breathes in my ear. “When I came here to take over, that what I am would become irrelevant.” I brush my cheek against his chest, thinking how sublime this all is.
Suddenly, he lifts me high, spinning me around playfully before carefully placing me back down onto the floor.
“Now.” He fingers my fringe aside, and like always I swiftly sweep it back. “I still have that very difficult issue to deal with.” His lips press, deviously. “The one I messaged you about earlier.”
Oh my, I shouldn’t be looking, but my view has fallen down to his crotch. It’s extremely bad of me, especially when I’m trying to be the demure dance partner. I redden and heat, gradually gazing up to his eyes. He seems to like the fact my view was drawn to his downstairs area. His jaw is doing that sexy tense grind, which tells me he’s horny as hell.
“The hard problem?” I say, daringly.
“Yes,” he almost growls.
He lifts me aggressively so my legs lock and link tight above his hipbone. He’s kissing me ferociously. Animal like. Primal. God, I freaking love how strong he is. He cradles my ass and carries me, while avidly devouring the sensitive skin on my neck. I sigh high with delight.
My arms are wrapped behind his head. He’s looking intensely into my needy frantic eyes. I swallow to try and rid the hard knot in my throat, but it doesn’t work. I’m like a wound-up toy in his arms, and I need unwinding. I want to be twisted, turned, and manipulated for pleasure. I want to be unravelled from deep within, and feel his power inside of me.
He bends and lies me on the white couch, standing over me as I grip the cushions above my head, gasping for him. He stoops over the arm and I splay my legs wide for him. His knees slowly land between my thighs, and his presence makes me leak painfully in my panties. His eyes, oh they’re so hungry, more ravenous than usual. I let out a moan as his fingers brush over my sex.
“So Elizabeth, are you prepared to make this home; you know what we must do don’t you?” Wow, he’s so unyielding tonight.
“The room christening?” I utter, all squirmy and hot.
He lowers, wetting my lips with his, then presses his head upon mine, firm.
“And do you have the stamina?”
“Yes,” I say, nearly choking.
He’s kissing me again, greedily, and I am too turned on right now to wait. He pulls at my
waistline and my desperate fingers help him to release me. His index finger runs firm under my shirt. Fuck, he’s just ripped it apart like tissue, and buttons fly like confetti. This is getting a bit destructive, but I’m liking it. I’m liking it a lot.
He sweeps the scattered buttons from my bare belly, and threads his arm under my curving back to claw at my spine.
“Where to start first.” He moves his hand under my black lace bra and flicks open the clasp. “Where Elizabeth?” He bends and kisses my nipple, making me flinch as his tongue teases.
I can’t think straight. All I want is him inside me. He’s placed the image of us fucking in every room inside my mind, and we haven’t even got going yet. I shut my eyes as he stands up and takes off my boots, one at a time.
“You’re not answering me?” He pulls his sweater over his head, his expression too calm, and his muscular frame taunting the hell out of me.
Adrien, please don’t make me talk. Just let me touch your skin, my head yells as I lick my lips.
I use the backrest to lift my body as he tugs down my grey jeans and damp panties. He drops them onto the floor. These small things usually look clumsy, but when he does it, even if it is to simply slip a sock from his foot, it’s the damn sexiest thing you could witness.
“I have something,” he says, walking across to a wooden box on the shelving unit.
My mouth dries. I can’t close it. His back muscles, I want to tongue. He so delectable. I’m here all naked and wet, and his patience for sex is driving me crazy.
Holy shit. He’s just pulled something red out from the wooden box. He’s twirling it in his hand and is now pulling it to tease me. He turns with both hands wrapped around it, his knuckles white. I angle up further in excitement.
“Remember?” He lets the blindfold and rope hang from his fingers.
I gape at them. Yes I remember. Killiecrankie. The room. The shit-hot foreplay and sex. The rest I want to forget.
“Come with me.” He walks toward the glass panel doors.
I frown. What the fuck is he doing? Do I follow? I would absolutely love to experience the high I got last time, but it messed him up way too much. I can’t stand the idea of our new home being tainted, because his thirst becomes more intense than the passion.
