Fetish

by Sherri L. King

  His fetish for silver shone like a beacon in the dim lighting. His eyes, too, were silver. More silver than green or blue tonight. His face was familiar once again, as handsome and dashing as ever. After her frightening week of trying desperately to remember how he looked and failing to do so, she was surprised he felt so familiar, as if her memory had never been locked against him. It must be the onset of menopause that was causing these memory quirks. She resolved to visit her doctor and add hormone therapy to her treatment, as soon as possible. That should fix things.

  That wonderful smell that seemed to emanate from his very pores tickled her senses. She breathed deeply. The small noise seemed overly loud in the quiet of the room and Violanti’s eyes met hers over the easel and canvas that stood between them.

  “You’re not wearing your glasses.”

  “I’m wearing contacts.” She didn’t need to tell him they were new, that she’d waited this long to buy a pair, and all because she’d wanted to see him clearly at all times. Especially when they had sex.

  “I’ve a gift for you,” he said simply, changing the subject.

  She blushed, hearing the subtle innuendo in those words. His cock was swollen and at attention, quite obviously aroused at being so bared before her very approving gaze. “What is it?” Her voice felt thick in her throat. Arousal swamped her. That quickly, without even a touch or kiss shared between them, she was ready for him.

  He smiled, clearly not unaware or unaffected by her open interest in his body. “Come. Look and see for yourself.”

  Again that double entendre, but she realized he only meant for her to look at the painting. She moved to stand close beside him so that his body heat warmed her, turned to view the canvas, and gasped.

  It was a portrait of her, completely nude, facing forward with Violanti’s body cushioning her back. His hand rested on her hip possessively. His hair fell forward to tangle with hers, his mouth played about the crook of her neck. Her eyes were closed, her face soft and lovely. Her lips were full and parted. Her breasts were round and smooth, her belly gently curved, her hips full and lush, but in no way did she look fat. Or plain. Or ugly. She looked lush.

  How could this be? Was this person in the painting really her? She recognized it as her. But Aerin knew she couldn’t look like this—this lovely, exquisite, beautiful woman—lying supine in the painting. She just couldn’t. It was impossible.

  “Not impossible,” Violanti’s words made her wonder if she’d spoken her thoughts aloud, or if he’s just sensed them as he seemed so easily able to do, “for you are beautiful. You just don’t see it in yourself. But you will. I’ll show you how gorgeous you are.” He leaned over and gave her temple a soft whisper of a kiss. He set his brush and pallet down and turned to her with a dangerous, seductive smile.

  “You can’t take this painting home tonight. It has to dry first. But I’ll send it to you when it’s ready. For you to remember me, to remember us together.”

  Did he know she had such a hard time recalling him and their time spent with each other while she was away? How could he? He was very knowing, very astute, but not psychic. She almost laughed at that fanciful thought.

  His gaze roved over her, changing colors in their kaleidoscopic way. “You look stunning tonight, sweet.”

  She was wearing a dark red dress, in crushed velvet. The waist was high, the hem was short, the cut like a baby doll dress. After much internal debate she’d begun wearing her new clothes, though it had been Wednesday before she’d dared try. It had taken her a few days to screw up enough courage.

  Violanti wasn’t the first to notice and appreciate her new style of dressing, but his was the first opinion that truly mattered to her. The realization was a surprise, but she found it much to her liking. She was concerned less and less of late, with how people viewed her. For once in her life she was oblivious and unconcerned with her outward image. She liked her new look, Violanti obviously liked her new look, and that was all that mattered.

  “Thank you,” she blushed. No matter how confident she grew, and she had grown more and more confident over the past few weeks, she knew she would always blush too easily.

  “Scarlet is a wonderful color for you. It brings out the auburn depths of your hair.”

  That only made her blush harder, of course. But his words were light and sweet, and he was looking at her dress not her cheeks. She’d never known she had auburn in her hair. It has always seemed a dull, drab brown to her. How lovely to think that there might be hidden rainbows of color in her hair, brought out by these new colors and fabrics she was finally daring to wear. “You look very handsome too,” her heart pounded.

  “I find I paint much better in the nude,” one of his ebony eyebrows swept up, “and I thought perhaps you’d find you liked me this way tonight. Easily accessible and bared to your gaze,” he dared her to deny it.

  “I do,” she wouldn’t, couldn’t lie to him, “I do like it—you—this way,” she stuttered then laughed ruefully at her own awkwardness—something she would have been unable to do but a few weeks ago.

  “Good. Now, much as I like your dress, I think it’s past time you took it off. Don’t you?” His teeth were so white when he smiled that satyr’s smile.

  “Already? Aren’t you going to offer me some wine to loosen me up first? Maybe give a kiss of greeting or something to encourage me?”

  A growl of laughter raced from him, touching her in places that were ready to be touched ever more deeply—by other things besides his sexy amusement. “Was my gift of the painting not enough,” he teased. “You, my sugar girl, need no further encouraging. I think you’ve bloomed quite well into a daring minx on your own, without need of liquor or other similar niceties.”

  “All girls need niceties, don’t they?” What kind of man used a word like niceties in this day and age anyway?

  His gaze burned. “Yes. Perhaps you’re right.” Leaning down, slow and seductive, he brought their lips together. Her eyes fluttered shut. His were cool, but quickly warmed against hers as they burned with her rising passion. The long fingers of his hands moved to frame her face, to tilt it just so, to better accommodate his kiss.

  The flame of his tongue licked out and flickered against her lips until she parted them. It delved for a quick taste into the recesses of her mouth, giving her a taste of cinnamon sweetness, and then retreated. His lips nibbled against hers for a brief second more and then the kiss was ended.

  “I’m glad you came back, Aerin. I missed you. If I seem rushed tonight it’s because of that,” he whispered against her mouth.

  Her eyes opened and locked with his. “I missed you too.”

  “I dreamed of you.”

  “You did?” She felt her eyes widen, felt her heart thud like a liquid fist in her chest.

  The curve of his lips tickled her mouth. Barely a breath separated them. “I did. And in my dream I did all the things I wanted to do to you. You loved it. You loved me. We loved each other.”

  She shied away from such words, not wanting to hear the echo of them sound in her blood. Pulling away from him, she averted her gaze, desperate to put some distance between them and fast.

  Violanti let the moment go, easing her somewhat by allowing her to retreat. Love, she was sure, had no place here between them. Only money. Only lust and passion and desire. Those things she could handle, or at least, she thought she could handle them better than love. That he was likely saying such sweet words because he felt she wanted to hear them made them all the more disturbing.

  Love should not be spoken of so lightly. Even she, lonely middle-aged woman that she was, knew this truth.

  “Tonight I think you are ready for a very important lesson in your journey.”

  Aerin smiled, easing further as that odd moment passed, though a dark desire beat at her mercilessly in reminder. “And what is that?”

  “Sex. Fucking. Making the beast with two backs. And what those things can and cannot mean between a man and woman. Later I’ll sh
ow you the very real, very big difference between fucking and lovemaking, but for tonight I think you’re as ripe and ready as I for a much baser lesson.”

  She frowned, not liking the hard edge in Violanti’s voice. Whereas the night had at first seemed headed in a more tender direction, here he was telling her that tenderness had no place in what they would do together. It was just as well, she realized in the back of her prudent mind, for she was paying for sex here. One had to earn the trust and tenderness that came with true lovemaking. No amount of money could buy those things.

  His staring gaze befuddled her thinking, both thrilling and frightening in their intensity. “Look at me, Aerin. Tonight I will be a tool, strong and hard, that you must use to find fulfillment. You will learn that sex is all it’s cracked up to be and more, and you’ll learn to reach out and take it when it’s offered. You’ll learn to like it, to need it, to go out and get it.”

  “W-what about you? Will you like it too?”

  “Oh yes, I’ll like fucking you, sugar girl. I’ll love it. I already need it, as you can see if you’ll just look down.”

  She did and swallowed hard when she saw just how much he needed it. He hadn’t seemed so big last time. So thick. But that was just her imagination playing tricks on her, overreacting now that she knew for certain this part of him would be thrusting into her before the night was done. It was a terrifying and awesome knowledge. It nearly brought her to her knees.

  “You’re scaring me, Violanti,” she moaned, but in desire more than fear despite her words.

  “No. I’m thrilling you. There’s a difference,” he said arrogantly. His gaze burned. “And you like it, don’t you?”

  She did. Oh how she did. “You won’t hurt me.”

  Something close to shock widened his eyes before they shuttered, hiding that show of surprise as if it must be kept secret. “I would never hurt you, Aerin. You’re safe with me. Safe enough.”

  Safety had nothing to do with it.

  “But I will ride you, and ride you hard. Don’t ask for mercy, for I will spare you none. Not tonight, my sugar girl.”

  “You’ll make me like it.” How calm she sounded, when she felt like screaming.

  That wicked smile of his again. “Of course. I’ll make you love it.”

  “You’re a devil.”

  He laughed, this time it was a roar that filled the room and made her smile helplessly in response. “I am a devil. It’s a good thing you’ve noticed and are at ease with it, for it is fact.” His accent was thick and rich and tickled over her mind deliciously. “Now,” he sobered abruptly, “take off your clothes.”

  The thud of her heart filled her throat. With unsteady hands she did as he instructed, removing her dress by pulling it over her head. Her hair, which was oddly longer and thicker now than it had been when first they’d met, fell low about her shoulders in tangled disarray. Her bra, a front clasp of wispy lace as new as the dress, was quickly thrown to the floor as well. Her high-heeled shoes, red to match the dress, she kicked off carelessly. But when her hands moved to the black lace thigh highs, he halted her.

  “No. Let me.” He bent down before her and slowly peeled the silk down to her ankles. To steady herself, she rested her hands on his shoulders. Those thick muscles made her fingers itch to knead them and she didn’t even bother to fight against that urge. The feel was exquisite. She dug her nails lightly into the smooth, strong firmness and was gratified by his gasping response.

  That ebony black head of his came back up, her stockings removed now—her last barrier gone—to level with her up-thrust breasts. With every breath she made they trembled. His eyes followed their slightest move with a hunger that terrified her. Excited her.

  His fingers brushed over the exposed sensitivity of her mons. “Minx. You wear no panties. How mad that would have driven me, if I’d but known.”

  “I’ve only been here fifteen minutes. You could have suffered that,” she teased in an unsteady, breathless voice.

  “I’d have jumped you in the first five.” His teeth nipped playfully at her nipple—they seemed so sharp!—before pressing his lips against the tightly puckered flesh. She gasped. “Now. Lie back upon the bed, love.”

  She’d been oblivious to the bed, the large cream and pink confection should have seemed feminine, but the dark wood of the large wooden frame gave it an almost dangerous look. All that masculine wood surrounding the feminine frills…like a man and woman making love…it was very sensual.

  Her imagination was far too fanciful tonight. Perhaps it was the mixture of Violanti’s scent and that of his paints that caused it. She didn’t know or care.

  Long-fingered hands guided her to the bed and eased her back upon the pillows. “We’ve been here before,” she lightly offered, referring to their last encounter.

  “Not like this,” he countered. “And never like it again; you’re innocent only once.”

  “I’m not so innocent anymore, thanks to you.”

  His smile was frightening, dark, and possessive. “Then all is as it should be.”

  He covered her breasts with his hands, lying down upon her easy and light, so as not to crush her with his weight. His skin seemed warmer than usual tonight against hers, but was as hard and firm as she remembered. Harder still as the hot ridge of his erection pressed into her belly.

  The moist sweet flavor of his breath played over her lips. “I want you,” his murmur was as unsteady as the pulse that beat through her blood, “badly.”

  It made her feel beautiful, the way he was looking at her, the way he was reacting to her. Sexy. And very vulnerable. She could find no words, and didn’t need to, for he claimed her mouth with an electrifying intensity that bordered on aggression.

  He moved down her body, kissing her cheek and jaw and neck. A dangerous sizzle of pleasure raced through her as she felt his teeth nibble her throat before moving down to claim her aching nipples. He sucked one into his mouth, tonguing it to a diamond hardness.

  The strength of his body caged her, enfolded her. His hands bit into her sides as he moved to settle between her legs. The heat of his cock pressed into the aching cradle of her thighs, prodding at the folds of her pussy. She was wet and more than ready, or her body was. Her mind was a quagmire of pleasure and nervousness, fear and lust.

  His hands tightened, nearly bruising her. Catching her to him with a barely suppressed show of violence, she saw and felt Violanti’s mouth open impossibly wide to take the fullness of her breast deep into his mouth. Deep, searing pain shocked her as he bit deep. His teeth felt like needles, long and stabbing deep towards her heart.

  Pleasure burst. Like a tsunami it washed over her, and she was powerless to fight against it. She raked her nails down his back, knew she drew blood, but didn’t care. She couldn’t stop. There was too much ecstasy. Too much exquisite pleasure. Her body screamed with it. Her mouth opened to let out that scream, as her body shuddered beneath his.

  His hand came up to cover her mouth, to stifle the earth shattering sound. She felt it seal against her mouth even as another scream erupted. Her sex pounded, the walls of her pussy trembled and quaked, her hips bucked wildly against his.

  Warm, liquid climax, centered in her pussy and in her breasts, washing back and forth all through her body until she was maddened by it. She shouted again and lost all sense of self.

  Chapter Nine

  The taste of her filled him. Her essence flooded through his every cell. The taste of her ecstasy was spicy and intoxicating and monumentally impossible to resist.

  He swallowed the magical sweetness of her blood, feeding the thirst that drove him.

  His soul bathed in the golden vortex of her blindingly bright aura, energized by the force that fed her life and sustained his.

  He spread her legs, wishing briefly that he’d been more careful, more patient with her. That he’d given her more time to prepare for this, their first joining. But he could not. As was always true, she stripped him bare, left him bereft of any
self-control, any reason. He wanted her. He had to have her. Nothing else mattered.

  Rising up, he breathed over the punctures in her gorgeous, delectable breast. His breath would seal the wounds, help them heal and fade in but seconds. His sugar girl was shrieking softly into his hand, all but swooning with pleasure thanks to the magic web he wielded instinctively as he fed.

  She was so beautiful.

  He wanted more.

  And more he would have. He positioned himself at the portal of her wet heat and waited for her to come back to the moment. When her eyes met his, he let his own open fully, let her see the red stain of his bloodlust, of his love, and impaled her in one long thrust.

  * * * * *

  She cried out, seeing the red haze of his eyes, like some demon’s. They burned into her, invading her very soul, and then he filled her with his body.

  Her cry changed to a scream, but not of pain. There was no pain. Only passion. And the fear caused by his red eyes blended with that passion until there was only hot, naked lust.

  The thick, long length of him stretched her body tight. Like a new glove her sheath struggled to accommodate his girth and succeeded. Barely. Aerin felt split wide open by him. Her cunt burned and throbbed, but the moment he stilled—imbedded at last to the hilt—all discomfort faded away, replaced by pleasure. Only pleasure.

  “God,” she squeezed her eyes shut against the wondrous ease, and the frightening impossibility of his crimson gaze. “Oh god.”

  His weight was held supported on his hands, rising high above her so that his muscles bulged. The thick flesh of him jerked within the depths of her body and they both moaned. “So wet, so tight,” he groaned. “Fuck.”

  A bead of sweat fell from his face to splash onto her cheek. It fairly sizzled on her feverish skin.

  “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he demanded.

  He was so deep, so thick, and she couldn’t find the strength to move.

  “Hurry.” He moved, a rocking motion of his hips, as if he couldn’t help himself.