Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  "She is all grown up now, so I imagine she will be better behaved."

  "And she'll be staying here?"

  "Where else? It isn't like we don't have the room. Relax, she'll stay in my wing. You won't even see her."

  Allyn highly doubted that.

  ***

  Violet should have been looking forward to this night, but between the weather forecast and the fact that Michael still had not called her, she wasn't. She had already booked a room at the Continental for after the opera. Her opera to be precise. Maybe that was part of the problem. La Traviata now held not just memories of her mother, but of Michael, too. She knew by the time the opera was finished she would be sobbing. But as a board member she had to go.

  She dressed carefully. She wanted to look good, but she needed something to keep her from falling apart. While she was in France she had gone lingerie shopping, so she picked out some of her favorite pieces to wear tonight, including a steel-boned long corset. It made her feel like Violetta, it was so beautiful. The way it pushed her breasts high and accentuated the curve of her waist and hips would have made any courtesan proud. The satin dress was simple in design but exposed her shoulders. She took out two of her mother's pearl combs and pinned the sides and front of her hair up. Seeing herself in the mirror, she looked like a modern version of Madame X, minus the bustle. She pulled on opera length gloves and grabbed her velvet cape.

  When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Allyn looked her up and down. "You would be even more beautiful with a smile on your face."

  She laughed at him.

  "Sure I can't convince you to come?"

  "Not unless you’re going to accompany me to the symphony."

  Violet groaned. It was a long-running joke between them. Allyn liked classical music, unadulterated by words and “visuals,” as he called the pageantry of opera. Violet appreciated music of all kinds, but sitting there staring at a symphony orchestra was nothing short of boring to her. The only time they relented was Mozart operas.

  "Not bloody likely." Violet did her best impression of her slightly stuffy English brother.

  "Brat. Enjoy yourself. You sure you'll be okay? The weather reports are all over the place, but the storm may end up being bad."

  "I've booked a room right next to the opera house, so I should be able to walk there if nothing else. I'll be fine."

  ***

  The Opera

  Traffic, of course, was awful. Everyone was trying to get where they wanted to be when the storm hit. She left the driver at the corner and walked the rest of the block. She noticed people staring at her and thought she must look odd dressed in these clothes with the long cape pulled around her, like she belonged in another time period. The first snow flakes were starting to fall, and she felt her eyes burn with tears that threatened. It was the first snow of the season. She couldn't look at snow now without thinking of Michael. She walked faster to escape the cold and because she was late.

  The overture had already started, and the lights dimmed by the time she found her seat in the box. As the music started to swell, she felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She missed him like she would miss blood in her veins. These weeks without him hurt like none of her physical injuries ever had. The only thing to compare was the loss of her parents, though she had survived that, too. He had to see he could trust her completely. She took a deep breath to distance herself from her emotions, at least till the opera was over. She was warm enough now that she could remove her cape as the first act started. She thought she heard a noise behind her, but before she could turn around she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

  "Shall I tell you the story of your opera?"

  "Michael..." She sighed.

  "Yes, Violetta. You are the most beautiful woman of your time. Could you love a wretch like poor unworthy Alfredo?"

  Violet bent her head to caress his hand with her cheek.

  "Alfredo wasn't unworthy, just foolishly proud. He couldn't see how much she loved him."

  "I've missed you, Violet." She could hear the pain in his voice and steeled herself against giving in.

  "I've missed you too." Reaching up, she took his hand from her shoulder and held it in hers. At first Michael stayed where he was, but as Alfredo declared his love for Violetta, he moved beside her. When the lights came up for intermission, Violet released his hand. Michael leaned toward her to kiss her, but she stopped him.

  "Michael, unless things have changed, please, don't. I'm just too fragile right now.”

  They sat in silence, absorbed in their thoughts till the house lights dimmed, and the opera continued. This time it was Michael who reached for Violet's hand and held it.

  When the lights came up, Michael didn't release her hand. He wanted to tell her she meant everything to him, but the words wouldn't come. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles one by one.

  "Violet, I know what you want from me, I just don't know if I can let go of the fear. I want to try. Does that count for anything? Can you give me the time to figure this out? I have been trying to work through this since you left."

  Violet felt her heart swell. This incredible man, the same one who drove her to heights of ecstasy, who had taken such care of her, was afraid of losing her. She held his face in both her hands and looked deep into his eyes with all the love she felt for him.

  "Michael, if you are willing to try, I promise you I will be with you at every step. I want to be with you, to hold you through the fear, whatever you need. That was all I was asking for—the chance to be there for you."

  The lights dimmed at that point and the music started. Michael dragged her from her seat on to his lap. He whispered in her ear.

  "I just need to hold you, I promise."

  Violet could feel his warm breath on her shoulder and feel him trembling. She twisted so she could put her arms around his shoulders.

  "I need to hold you, too," she whispered as she lay her head on his shoulder and they watched the last act.

  As everyone left the opera, they were met with a classic Nor'easter. Snow pelted down in blinding clumps. The wind whipped from all directions. Michael looked at Violet, afraid to find that she would be panicked. Instead, he was shocked to see that she was smiling. She glanced down at him as she settled her cape on her shoulders and pulled up the hood.

  "Fancy a short walk?"

  "Are you mad?"

  "Crazed. But you are not planning on driving in this, are you?"

  "No, but..."

  She stepped in front of him. "Michael, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but I have a room at the Continental, right next door. I hadn't expected company but..."

  "Violet..." Then he closed his mouth and looked like he reconsidered. "Let's go."

  She bent and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

  The Hotel

  The storm raged outside. The windows were white in the blizzard, and the wind screamed. He closed the drapes to block out the noise and snow. Unfortunately, there were no drapes that he could draw around the storm raging between his heart and his mind. He wanted her beyond reason or hope, but he had nothing to give her. This was a woman on fire, and all he could offer was quiet devotion.

  Once inside, they stared at each other with chattering teeth. She shook snow out of her hair and then took down what was still pinned up. With that dress and her hair up at the opera, she had looked regal, unattainable. Now with her shoes kicked off and her hair down, she looked sensual and tempting. He fought to look away and lost.

  She walked toward him with a half-smile. “I’m going to need your help getting out of this dress or I’ll never get warm.”

  She turned her back when she reached him and knelt down in front of him. The white satin of the neckline highlighted her creamy white skin. She bent forward pulling her hair to the side to reveal dozens of small buttons along her spine. As Michael’s fingertips grazed the small points of her vertebra between her shoulders, she gasped. “Sorry, my fingers are still
cold,” he choked out. Though to him her skin felt like fire. He undid the first dozen or so, slowly trying to master the inner storm he felt.

  She stood up, and the dress dropped further down her shoulders. She was holding it up between her breasts, but in falling it had revealed the top edge of her lingerie. He found the effect mesmerizing. His mind screamed. Everything in his senses told him to make love to this woman here and now. Yet he still delayed. A woman this passionate needed a complete man, something he wished he could be. But she wanted him, maybe he needed to just trust in her faith in him.

  Violet walked toward the closet and stepped out of her dress. She heard his gasp and smiled to herself. Good. It was working, she thought. She retrieved her dress and hung it on a hanger as best she could. She walked toward the heater, keeping the dress between her and Michael. She needed an image to steel her will. She had never outright seduced a man before, and she suspected Michael would be a challenge to even the most practiced courtesan from any opera. That was it! Not a courtesan, something ethereal, sensual, his own Lady Godiva!

  She closed her eyes for a second to fix the image of the noble temptress in her mind and dropped the dress on the chair. She turned to face him in her lingerie. The corset was black lace with flat braid along the edges and boning. It was a simple style that came down to her hips and ended in several tiers of lace. The garters were attached to plain sheer black stockings. She had thought when she was dressing that perhaps everything was too plain, but no, the effect was more elegant. She shook her hair out, and it fell like a cape around her. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and parted her lips slightly letting the thought of the brave noblewoman settle over her. When she opened her eyes again, she had to fight to keep from laughing at the look on Michael’s face. The very debonair, detached, erudite Dr. Michael Dennison was staring with his mouth open. She let her eyes flutter closed, remembering the wonders of that mouth. Then she started toward him.

  “Now, to get you out of your wet clothes.”

  “Don’t. I...”

  “Don’t be silly. You’ll catch pneumonia sitting there soaked, and we are going to be here a while.”

  “You don’t catch pneumonia like... oh, hell.” And he started to remove his tie. Violet smiled, whatever else happened tonight, she had won at least this small victory. She took each piece and placed them near the heater to dry out. He stopped when he was bare chested but still had his pants. He had removed each piece slowly in his reluctance to disrobe, which only added to Violet’s anticipation. By the time he had removed his tuxedo shirt, she thought she might melt on the spot.

  She racked her brain for what to do next. She was shivering from either the cold or anticipation. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm up. He was still staring at her like she might evaporate at any minute. She walked back across to the closet and pulled the two thick robes out. “Did you want one?” She was trying to be nonchalant, but even she could hear an edge to her voice that had never been there before. Would Michael hear the desire in her voice and close himself off again? She steeled herself to calm down. She took a deep breath that swelled her breasts at the top of the corset. Again the good doctor’s mouth dropped open.

  “Yes, please,” he managed to choke out. She slipped into one, leaving it untied and open, and brought him the other. She held it open for him to slip his arm in and then brought it around to the other side. She couldn’t miss the opportunity to let her eyes rake over his back. Once he was cocooned in the plush terry cloth, he looked less miserable.

  She moved to the bed, trying to distract herself from the way he was looking at her. She knew if she threw herself at him they would be right back to where they left off. He had to decide he wanted this. She sat down on the end of the bed letting the robe fall open to either side of her. She had always prided herself on being a good conversationalist, but at the moment her throat had gone dry, and her brain refused to form words. Thankfully, he had followed her over to where she sat.

  His hand seemed to be reaching out to her of its own volition. His only thought to stroke her cheek and maybe her hair. Sitting there, she looked so vulnerable and alluring. He was almost touching her when he realized what he was doing. She had seen his hand extended and had already started to move toward it, pushing forward her breasts and inclining her face to match the curve of his hand. At his touch, she sighed and closed her eyes.

  The curve of her cheek fit his palm perfectly. He was lost. Heat swept through him, want overtaking the fear. His mind churned with sensation and desire. The touch, her sigh, were not enough to extinguish these. He slipped his hand past her cheek, into her hair, pulling her closer. Just one more kiss, one more taste of what other men took for granted. His other hand went around her waist, caressing the lace and boning of the corset. Still, it was not enough. He needed to taste her mouth, her teeth, feel her tongue search for his.

  He pulled her onto his lap. Her eyes went wide. She did not pull away but melted against him. His mouth crushed hers. Too much, he thought. He gentled his kiss and felt her body warm to his. He sucked at her lips like a starved man. The hand around her waist was now caressing her throat. When she moaned, he explored her with his tongue. His desire had only increased. His hand moved from her throat to her breast. Reaching into her corset, he cupped her breast. He felt the nipple harden at his touch. As it did, he bent to kiss the sensitive rosy bud. She lay her head back in a full throated moan, pushing it deeper into his mouth, exposing the length of her milky throat. He suckled the nipple and then explored the milky white mound. Her breathing was ragged. That she wanted him was obvious, but she had made it clear that she would accept nothing less than all of him.

  With an audible growl and his mind screaming, he put his hands around her waist and pushed her off his lap and back onto the bed. Both of them were gasping for air. She looked at him though heavy-lidded eyes. He knew he should grab his things and leave, but seeing her so filled with desire pinned him to the spot.

  Her need for him was too great to listen to reason. Her mind was screaming, Make him come to you! But she didn’t have the will to obey. She threw her arms around him, kissing and nibbling his jaw, ears and neck. She knelt on the floor, reaching up to stoke his chest and twirl her fingers in the soft curls. Eventually she looked into his eyes. For a long time, Violet stared deep into their glittering sapphire brilliance, willing him to let go of his fear and drop his resistance. When she felt she had at least communicated that, she started to undress him.

  “No,” he cried out in anguish.

  “Why?” she pleaded in a voice that reminded Michael of those horrible days after the surgery. She sounded in agony. “I want you,” she said, trying to slow her breathing. “And I know you want me!” she nearly screamed.

  He could not deny she was right but—

  She cut off his thoughts. “Just lie with me. Let me make love to you.”

  “But that’s just it. I don't know if I can make love to you!” Now he was nearly shouting, in part in anguish, in part to still the blood pounding in his head.

  “You are a passionate, sensual, intelligent man. Michael, I don't expect a perfect lover. I want you, all of you. I realize there are things we may not be able to do, but to deny yourself the chance? I can only assume you don’t really want me.” She stood to get dressed and leave.

  In that second, Michael saw a yawning eternity before him. An eternity where he was alive but bereft, cut off from all joy in the world. “Nooooo,” he yelled in a choked sob. He threw his arms around her waist. She curled herself over the top of him, sheltering him in her hair.

  “Thank God. I wouldn’t have had the strength to do it,” she whispered. He turned to her and saw her fighting back tears. He kissed every one and then scooped her into his lap, kissing her some more. He kept kissing till she was laughing, and then he slid her back onto the bed. Her robe had fallen off around her. There she sat as he looked at her. Her mantle of hair streaming down. Her liquid brown eyes still br
ight with tears but smiling now. Her full lips in a half smile taunting him to capture them with his own. She was flushed with want, want for him, how could he deny this to her? Or to himself?

  “I guess I should tell you. I've been experimenting with some of the ED meds. They are supposed to help,” he said as he idly ran his finger under one of the garters. With his other hand he reached under the lace tiers of the corset to caress the curve of her hip. Her breathing became shallow and quick. He looked into her eyes and said “Lie back. I want to undress you.”

  She looked at him like he was a satyr come to ravish her, and it took all his willpower not to believe it himself. She lay down on the edge of the bed. He unsnapped one of the garters and saw her jump with excitement. With each pop, he could feel the heat of her increase. Slowly he rolled first one stocking, then the other off. Her lids became heavy, and she moaned softly. The sound of it drove him on. He slid both hands under the corset finding the lace of her panties. She gasped but smiled and lifted her hips as he slowly pulled them down. He kissed her thighs, then her knees, then her delicate ankles.

  She started to undo the hooks in the corset. “No,” he said softly. “Better to do it slowly.” She stopped and started again much more slowly, teasing him with each one. His chest ached, his stomach clenched with the desire to see her enthralled. Finally the corset fell away from her hands.. She was almost too beautiful to touch. Almost, but kissing the hollow of her breasts would be appropriately worshipful. He buried himself in her chest, felt it heave as she almost sobbed with release. She twisted his hair in her fingers, kissing his hair and ears.

  Finally she whispered, “Lie with me. I need to feel your body against mine.”

  It had been so long that he had fought against his passion for this woman. Something as simple as this felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  “You stay there. Close your eyes.” And he gave her a kiss on each eyelid. “I’ll tell you when you can open them.”

  He quickly went to the other side of the bed. He divested himself of the rest of his clothes and transferred himself to the bed. He slid in behind her, and she gave a little squeal when they touched. Their bodies fit together like halves of a whole. He had forgotten how perfect this felt. He brushed her hair from her neck and started kissing and nibbling her neck and shoulders. She melted in his arms. He slid his lower arm under her neck to cradle her against him. The other slid down her soft, smooth stomach. When he reached her pubic hair, he twirled the curls around his fingers. She gave a start and then sighed more deeply against him. He guided her top leg over his, and then rolled back slightly opening her legs. She understood his intent and parted her legs more. Again his hand started its decent. This time he did not stop at her mons but slipped his fingers inside her. He felt her breath catch in her throat. Then he heard a hum deep in her chest against his. My god, she was purring. He smiled while continuing to kiss her.