Object of My Affection

by Tracey H. Kitts

  I felt better after we made love. It felt as if that act had helped me to finally make up my mind. For a time I had been confused, but I couldn’t pretend to misinterpret my feelings for Alfred any longer. The last time I’d allowed myself to love someone, it had been a mistake. But nothing had ever felt more right than loving Alfred.

  Years ago I’d heard a woman with several children say that pregnancy is different every time. You never know how you will react. Love is like that, too. It doesn’t mean that you love someone more or less than someone else, but it’s always different. Each time is unique, and all worth the experience.

  Alfred stirred slightly and I watched his long lashes flutter before his dark eyes looked at me.

  “Such a serious face,” he whispered, as he caressed my cheek.

  “I was just thinking.”

  “Don’t think such thoughts so soon after such great sex.”

  He sighed.

  I laughed. “Is that your own brand of philosophy, or just an Italian thing?”

  He stretched and scooted down the pillows as he answered, “A little of both, I think.”

  I flopped onto my back and my stomach growled again.

  “If you wanted to keep me barefoot and in the kitchen, you could have just asked.” He grinned.

  “Yep, that’s what I want. Now get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich, bitch.”

  It’s lucky I have such quick reflexes or I would never have been able to beat Alfred to the bathroom. I jumped off the bed, laughing maniacally, and ran for the door with him right on my heels.

  “You’d better lock the door.” He laughed as I slammed the door in his face still cackling with laughter.

  When I walked back out a few minutes later, I was surprised that Alfred wasn’t waiting around the corner to ambush me. The biggest surprise? He was cooking. I had the most unreal craving for seafood, but wasn’t about to speak a preference since he was cooking, and I wasn’t. As I entered the kitchen, I stopped in the doorway and just stared. Alfred looked good in the long black bathrobe he wore, but that was not what had caught my attention.

  “What? You’ve never seen a fish before?” Alfred asked sarcastically.

  “How did you know I was craving seafood?”

  “Actually, I was craving seafood, so don’t think that I’m cooking this just because you like salmon.” He paused. “Am I cooking this just because you like salmon?”

  “Maybe.” I smiled.

  “There’s more that you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”

  “About what?” I asked innocently.

  “About The Seducer and his power.”

  Since Alfred cooked more often than I did, I’d let him pick out the appliances. Half of the surface of our stove was a grill where he placed the salmon while I talked. I explained to Alfred about Mathias’ warning to me. About how I had the ability through sex when combined with an emotional connection to take on the characteristics of other people.

  “He said it could be that I would find interest in things they liked that I’d never cared for, like a favorite book. Or, I could start to like their favorite foods.”

  Alfred had taken out a bottle of wine. He always drank when he cooked and had nearly choked with my last words.

  “Do you think that could work both ways?” he asked.

  “Quite possibly.” I sighed. “According to Mathias, it doesn’t always happen. Sometimes, it might be subtle or very noticeable. It all depends on the person and how much of a connection you have with them.”

  “I see. Are these,” he seemed to be searching for the right word, “effects permanent?”

  “They can be, or it could be just a passing thing.” I sat down at the table and crossed my legs underneath me. “Do you remember when I was dating Bradley?”

  Alfred had turned back to the stove, but I could still tell he flinched before answering, “Yes.”

  “Well, he liked to read books that really weren’t my thing.

  While we were seeing each other, I started to like some of the same things. But after it was over, I did my best to cut off any connection I’d ever had with him. Without knowing what I was doing at the time, I severed our psychic bond. Anything I’ve ever picked up from anyone else must have just gradually faded, or been nonexistent.”

  Alfred poured himself another glass of wine as he turned to me and propped against the counter. “So, let me get this straight. You are capable of picking up bits and pieces of the personalities of the people that you have intimate contact with?”

  “Yes.”

  “And in some cases, they might experience this also?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you remain ... basically the same? I mean, it doesn’t change who you are?”

  “Right. Your basic personality can never be altered. But....”

  “But what?”

  “Mathias said that I should be careful, because there are ‘worse things than craving onions instead of candy’.”

  “Shit.” He took another sip of wine and said, “Well, at least you’re not dating a loser like Bradley anymore.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Alfred turned his back to me and began taking other ingredients down from the cabinet. I slid quietly out of my chair and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my face against his back.

  “But, how do I know you aren’t secretly some diabolical fiend that, with enough contact, might forever change me?”

  He laughed as I slipped one hand inside his robe. “You have already changed me,” he said as he turned in my arms to face me. “But I guess this means no more one night stands for you.” He winked.

  “Bastard.” I laughed. “See, that’s the thing,” I commented while pouring myself a glass of wine. “I could never understand casual sex. Even if I’m not deeply in love with someone, I have to at least care for them if we’re going to sleep together.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I’m serious. So, I suppose that ups my chances of experiencing some kind of connection or osmosis or whatever the hell you want to call it, because I have cared for everyone I’ve ever been with.” I took a sip of the dark red wine before adding more quietly, “I’ve never used anybody.”

  “And that’s what makes you a good person in spite of yourself.” He smiled. Alfred tilted my chin so that I looked at him again, “Don’t think about him now. I’m here, not that asshole Bradley, or the one before him.” He kissed my forehead. “And I will not use you.”

  “Besides,” he continued, “you and I have lived together for so long, we’ve already picked up bits and pieces of each other’s personality just out of habit.”

  “True, but how did you know I was thinking about Bradley?”

  “I don’t need to gain any of your ability to read your mind.

  I know you too well.” He sighed. “I suppose it really doesn’t matter. Not for you and I.”

  “How so?”

  “You were already a part of me,” he said softly.

  “You’re just saying that because you’ve seen me naked,” I managed to say with a straight face.

  He smiled and turned back to the salmon as he commented over his shoulder, “No. I’m saying that so I can see you naked again.“

  I watched as he added some red peppers and olive oil to the pasta he’d started to cook and my stomach lurched. I was hungrier than I’d thought.

  “How is it Mathias Alexander is warning you about choosing your sexual partners carefully if all the rumors about him were true?”

  I laughed. “That’s what I asked him. But, Mathias did choose his lovers very carefully. He didn’t go for the cold or conceited women, but ‘the soft of heart’. He was with some of the most ravishing and heart wrenchingly beautiful women the world has ever known, and they helped to make him into the seductive wizard of legend.”

  “Damn, that’s sexy when you say it.” He smiled.

  “How much did you manage to drink while I was in the bathroom?”

&n
bsp; “This is only my second glass,” he said indignantly. But the half smirk gave him away. “My second glass, after I drank from the bottle while you were in the bathroom.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I laughed. “Does the sight of me naked drive you to drink?”

  “Of course not.” He sat the glass on the counter. “I’m just glad to be back.” He pinched my ass and winked as he said, “And I’m glad to see you.”

  —

  After dinner all I wanted to do was snuggle up and go to sleep. And after Alfred finished off an expensive bottle of Pinot Noir, that’s all he was able to do.

  “Italian men are so much more fun when they’re drunk,” I said on our way back to his bedroom.

  “Is that so? Are you saying I’m not any fun sober?”

  “No, but you’re more difficult to take advantage of,” I purred.

  “Ah.” He sighed. “If only you knew how many years I’ve waited for you to take advantage of me.”

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  Alfred looked down his nose at me as if that were the stupidest question in the world.

  “Because you just don’t do things like that.”

  “You mean you don’t do things like that. I on the other hand have no problem telling someone I’d like to be taken advantage of.”

  “Really? I might just be drunk, but didn’t I hear you say earlier that you’d loved me too long to let go without a fight?”

  “Something like that, yes. But that’s not the same thing.”

  “Oh yes it is. If you’ve cared for me for as long as you say ... you haven’t bothered to tell me either.” He pointed to his eyes and then at me as if he was going to do the eye poke and said, “But, I’ve been giving you the eye.”

  “My God, you’re drunk.” I chuckled.

  “Do you really love me?” he asked seriously as we reached the bedroom door.

  We went inside and I watched Alfred sit on the side of the bed, facing me expectantly. I walked up to him and separated his knees so that I could stand between his legs. As I brushed my fingers through his dark, silken hair I replied, “I have always loved you. I just didn’t realize it before,” I sighed.

  “And I always will, even if you turn out to be a complete scoundrel and ruin my life.”

  Alfred placed his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me toward him. His lips were warm and soft with the faint kiss of wine. “I’m not a scoundrel,” he whispered as he kissed along my cheek.

  “Maybe not.” I smiled. “But I am.”

  His skin was warm beneath my touch as I slipped both my hands inside his robe. I let my fingertips play along his arms, reveling in the feel of every nuance and curve of muscle. I was exhausted. It had been nearly twenty four hours before I’d had any sleep, and the few hours I had passed out in the early afternoon were not enough. But as I looked at Alfred, drunk and as helpless as I was ever likely to find him, I couldn’t seem to help myself. There was a hunger inside of me that would not rest, a desire that would not be silenced, and an ember that was once again becoming a flame.

  I ran my hands up to his shoulders and slid the soft robe down his back. Faint red claw marks tarnished the perfect bronze of his skin. I kissed the marks as I whispered against his skin, “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright.” He sighed. “I didn’t even feel them.”

  I licked across the red mark on one tanned shoulder and he gasped.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” I promised.

  I untied his robe and revealed his gorgeous body to my hungry eyes. Hungry is the only word to describe the way I looked at him, for I was ravenous with my wicked desires.

  There were things I wanted to do to Alfred that had no name, ways I wanted to touch him that had no description.

  “Lie back,” I said silkily as I placed one hand on his chest and pushed gently.

  The soft black robe fell to the floor as Alfred slid back across the sheets naked until he reached the middle of the bed. He reclined back against the pillows and crossed his hands behind his head as he watched me.

  I took the belt from his robe and walked into the bathroom. Alfred’s closet, like mine upstairs, adjoined his bathroom, and there I found what I needed. I reemerged shortly with the belts from two more of Alfred’s robes.

  Like a cat, I crawled toward him, took one foot and tied one of the belts around his ankle. Alfred’s gaze never wavered from mine as I tied both his feet securely to the bed posts. I crawled over his body and Alfred watched me take his left wrist from behind his head and secure it with the last belt.

  “You forgot my right hand,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

  With a dramatic flair that I could not have pulled off better with practice, I snatched off the belt of the robe I was wearing and tied his right hand up with a smile.

  “What are you planning to do?” he asked.

  I threw back my head and laughed. It was a deep, velvet, throaty sound. Alfred replied softly, “That sounded like a threat.”

  “No darling, that was a promise,” I purred.

  I opened Alfred’s long robe that I still wore, and straddled his upper thighs. As I leaned forward, I began to rub my face across his stomach like an animal. I think I was trying to scent mark Alfred’s body as my territory. His skin felt so warm against my face. My voice was practically a moan as I said, “So many nights I’ve laid awake,” I breathed along his skin, “just thinking of the things I’d like to do to you.”

  His shocked intake of breath thrilled me, and it was all I could do to control myself.

  “I was just downstairs, you know?”

  “But over the past three months, you were on another planet,” I purred. “And my lustful gaze has been deprived of the sight of you.”

  “Ah,” he panted. “Do you always talk like this when you’re aroused? I mean, is it a poet thing, or what?”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “No, God no.”

  “I believe it to be the unfortunate side effect of a horny poet inheriting the powers of a horny old wizard.”

  He laughed and I slid further up his body. I stretched myself across him so that the front of our bodies pressed together as my lips hovered above his left nipple. I breathed along his skin and watched him shiver. Without warning I closed my mouth over his flesh, flicking across the taut skin with my tongue.

  “Are you planning to torture me like this all night?” he moaned.

  “You haven’t seen torture yet.”

  For nearly an hour I let my mouth and hands roam over Alfred’s body. I touched the places I had only touched before in my mind, and I committed the feel of his body to memory.

  As I kissed along the curve of his hip I could contain myself no longer. All of this time I had deliberately avoided touching certain parts of him. The fine shimmer of sweat across his forehead made it clear that I was in fact torturing Alfred.

  I straddled his legs again as I leaned forward and took the part of him that I had avoided between my hands. I brushed the sides of my face up and down the length of him and Alfred fought against the restraints. But I was good at tying knots and I dared not set him free.

  I released him abruptly and his look of disappointment almost made me laugh. I retrieved the bowl of leftover cherries from the table by the bed and I could have sworn Alfred whimpered.

  After I placed the bowl beside him, I slipped out of the robe and scooted it underneath his hips. I reached into the bowl as I once again straddled his legs. With my right hand I crushed the ripe cherries and watched in fascination as the juice poured over the honeyed bronze of his skin, leaving faintly pink trails.

  I placed both my hands firmly on the bed beside his hips and leaned forward to lick the juice from his body. He cried out as I took part of him into my mouth, only to release him seconds later in order to better lick the juices from his writhing flesh. I slid my hands underneath him and squeezed the firm muscles of his backside as I continued to clean the juice from his bod
y with my mouth.

  When the torture became too great, even for me ... I took him. I took him like a wild ravening beast claims its mate in the wild. Alfred was mine, and every inch of him would remember that in the morning. But for now, I wanted to hear it.

  “Tell me you’re mine,” I breathed against his throat. “Let me hear you say it.”

  “Sono tuo,” he moaned repeatedly.

  Even though he spoke Italian I understood him, and it was what I’d needed to hear. Like a raging storm my passion rolled over us, sweeping away our minds in a tide of desire.

  His words had brought me such release that I nearly passed out as I rested my face against his chest.

  “Oh, my God,” he breathed. For the next several minutes Alfred alternated between mumbling, “Oh, my God,” and something indiscernible in Italian. But I suddenly felt very weak and very sick.

  “I don’t feel good,” I mumbled as I rolled over Alfred and off the bed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure, but I really don’t feel good.”

  “Untie me,” he said.

  I sort of staggered to each bedpost and with one tug the knots were undone. I left Alfred to untie the belts from his wrists and ankles while I stumbled into the bathroom. When he found me just a few minutes later, I was sitting on the cold tile in the bottom of the shower with my face pressed against the wall.

  Alfred swept me onto his lap and held me against him as he asked, “Lilith, what’s wrong?”

  “I feel sick,” I mumbled as I wrapped my arms around him.

  “Describe it to me. Are you nauseous?”

  “Not really. I feel weak ... not just the weakness after really good sex.” I laughed softly.

  “What sort of weakness?”

  “I think I’m going to faint,” I whispered against his chest.

  He held me in silence for a moment before asking, “What time did you say Richard called you the other night?”

  “It was late ... near midnight. I couldn’t sleep, so I’d decided to go down to the training room.”