Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked

by Olivia Fuller

  “I never slept with any of those men, Greg.”

  “What?” He shook his head as if to throw off the confusion of her words.

  “Those men. My companions. My paramours. I only—”

  His eyes widened as he stopped his teasing of her body. “You only what?”

  “In the beginning, I had every intention of doing so. I thought I would feed my longings, fulfill my needs completely. But no matter how I tried to wrap my mind around it, that just never happened. I only ever allowed myself to breach the edges of my needs—”

  “Why?” he asked, realization filling his eyes. “Tell me,” he demanded though it was clear he knew the answer.

  “I always told myself it was because I didn’t want to give them access to my heart. I didn’t want to give up that part of me that I was trying so desperately to hold on to and to give meaning to. But then one day, I couldn’t even tell you when, I realized that the reason I couldn’t do it was because I couldn’t give away something that didn’t belong to me anymore…”

  She locked her eyes with his, bringing her hands to his face and cupping it tightly in her palms. Her eyes watering intensely by the time she spoke the last words. “It’s always been you, Greg. Only you. It’s only ever been you.”

  He took a strand of her hair between his fingers, twisting it slowly, taking two deep breaths. Then he forced her legs apart with his knee and positioned himself between them. He bent his head and covered her mouth, taking her in, devouring her. His hunger for her had suddenly become ravenous; his need to show her his feelings, insatiable. She allowed him to feast and appease his appetite. She writhed beneath him, moaning and mewing, showing her vulnerability with shivers and tears. He accepted her openness and worked diligently to heal her. He kissed away her pain and licked away her tears. But this only made her cry more, only made her want him more.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on the moment, fighting her desire to scream out, fighting her desire to speak the words of her heart, words she knew she would regret now and later on. She felt his lips touch her eyelids then, persuading them to open and look at him full on. His eyes locked with hers and for the first time she realized that he was also brimming with untold emotion. She tried to look away, tried to avoid what he was feeling but once again he took hold of her face and forced her to look at him.

  He brought himself to her aching and ready entrance and slowing slipped inside. She gasped and convulsed, oh-so-close but not quite there, as she braced herself for his onslaught. But he did not move an inch, instead he held steady, allowing her to feel how he filled her and the way that she welcomed him. Slowly then, so slowly, he began to move, just a fraction of an inch at a time, as he worked his way up to a steady motion that riveted her insides.

  “You may marry him. I may not be able to do anything to stop you,” he finally said as he continued to work on her needs. “But you will always be mine, you hear? Nothing will ever be able to change that. Past, present, and future. This life and all the others. Your heart belongs to me.You belong to me.”

  He pushed forward with one sharp and powerful stride, deep as he could go, far as she could take. She was racked with powerful convulsions, bringing her higher and higher to levels she had never known were possible, as their bodies fell back into that easy and comfortable rhythm from so long ago until it was as if no time had passed at all. And she let him take over; she gave herself over to him, allowing him to do as he pleased for as long as he pleased. She knew he would not lead her astray.

  She was right.

  He worshipped her and venerated her. He showed her love with his hands and his touch. He routed out the deepest desires she ever had, fulfilled wishes she never even dared to let herself think. But he knew them. He knew them all. He knew everything about her, inside and out, and he did not stop until he brought about her end over and over. He did not stop until he fulfilled every level of her needs, on every plane, until she found herself wrapped around him, clutching, gasping, trying to blend into him and become one with him.

  It was only then, after he made love to her in every sense of the word, that he went to work on his own wants; taking exactly what he wanted and giving her exactly what she wanted, waiting until the very last moment possible to disconnect from her when he found his end.

  As he slumped down on her, both of them breathing heavily, she wrapped her arms around him, thanking him in silence.

  Greg had been diligent in fulfilling her request and giving her exactly what she asked for, but he’d also given her something else, something that she had not expected. Something that she did not want.

  He awoke her.

  And she fell in love with him more deeply than she ever even imagined was possible. But it was too late.

  Everything had changed yet nothing had changed.

  This was just one more reason why she would have to marry Brad.

  ***

  Greg just lay there, breathless and dazed.

  He could feel the soft form of Mary beneath him, sure and strong and powerful. She clung to him, holding on for dear life, as if at any moment he would fade away into non-existence. He understood her urgency to validate this moment and so he embraced her back, pressing her against him until they both gasped. Her breast heaved up and down against him and her breath blew across his dampened skin. Goosebumps pricked up on his flesh. He was not sure if this was a result of the sudden chill against his skin or of the profounder passion he felt spinning around inside.

  But he knew one thing for sure. She loved him.

  The question was what did he do now?

  He rolled off of her, draping his arm carefully over her side. He studied her dutifully. He had to admit that she was quite breathtaking after making love. The flush of her skin left her cheeks painted pink and her lips were red and full. The sun coming through the window glistened off of her damp skin making her look rather ethereal. There was no mistaken she was a woman who had just been well loved. She even smelled like it. He found it intoxicating.

  She stared up at the ceiling for a long time, just waiting silently and breathing, when suddenly she turned to look at him. Her eyes full of dreams and memories.

  Her face was contemplative but also twisted in pain. She looked as if she wanted to tell him something, or rather as if she felt she must tell him something. But it was not coming out and looked to be causing her immense pain. She opened her mouth but before she could utter a word he placed his finger over her lips, ever so gently as he stopped her. She kissed his finger and let it rest there on her lips. And then, before she could protest or his resolve disappeared, he decided to just let it out.

  Now or never. Or forever hold his peace.

  “Who would have thought, that such a simple picnic in the park could so irrevocably change one’s life…” His fingers tiptoed across her cheek, across her shoulder and down her arm, and then back up again to her head when they played with her hair.

  “And then every day after that. All the simple things that we took for granted. All the big things that we could only see the surface of that meant so much more than we ever knew at the time. All of our time together, working in harmony in the background, forging threads that we never knew existed, until everything was so entwined together that they could not be separated and we could no longer ignore them…”

  She stiffened. She was beginning to understand where he was going with this.

  “Gregory…” she said as she pulled her head away.

  “No, wait.” His voice was seriously severe. “I need to say this. I need you to hear this.”

  She shook her head and pushed backwards until she dislodged herself from him and stood up. “No, Greg. It’s too late. Please don’t—”

  Greg stood up now too and closed the space between them, grabbing her arm between his fingers. She did not struggle. “I will. I will say it. I’ve done what you asked of me and now I ask this of you. Let me say my piece… I will have it either way.”

  She didn�
�t say a word but just looked down at the floor.

  “I’ve told you many time that I won’t say those words. But now I feel as if I have no choice. I’ve repeatedly showed you how I feel with my body and with my actions. I’ve given you everything that I’ve had to give and still it has not made a difference. And so maybe I’ve been going about this wrong all along. Maybe you need to hear the words and maybe I need to say them. Maybe that’s the only thing that will make this real and let us both know for sure that we’re of a like mind…”

  His throat moved up and down as he swallowed hard and then at last he said the words. “I love you, Mary. I’ve always loved you and I know that you love me.”

  She shook her head from side to side, as she mouthed the word “No” over and over again. “You need to leave. I must—I still have to—” she choked out.

  “I’m not done. I still have one more thing to say—one more thing to ask—and once I’ve done that, if you still want me to go, then I will.”

  She looked up at him then, her eyes suddenly wide. She knew what he was going to say.

  “You do not belong with him. You belong with me—we belong together. Marry me instead. Will you do that?”

  And she began to shake her head again, furiously, as she pulled free of his arm and backed away. “No. I cannot. I will not. It’s too late—”

  “It is not too late! It will never be too late. You can tell me that you don’t feel it. You can tell me all you want that this is in my imagination, but I won’t believe you. It’s written all over you, inside and out. Your body betrayed you and so did your soul. We’re in love. I love you and you love me—”

  “Fine.” She slapped her hands against her sides. “I won’t deny it. I love you. I’m in love with you. Is that what you want me to say? That I love you more deeply and fiercely than I ever knew I could love anyone or anything? That I physically ache at the thought of it? It throbs inside of me. Do you have any idea what it feels like to suddenly realize that the reason you’ve been so lost your whole life is because a piece of you was missing and you never even knew it—only to find that missing piece and know that you can’t have it and so you will never, ever be whole?”

  “But Mary, you can have—”

  “No. I cannot. I will not.” She gasped for air. “It’s because I love you that I can’t marry you. Can’t you understand that?”

  Greg was taken aback. “No. No, I can’t understand that—”

  “Well, you’re going to have to, because I’m marrying Brad.”

  “Mary—”

  “Greg, no!”

  He straightened his jaw and fixed his eyes with hers. “This is not over, Mary. I will not leave this alone…”

  “It is over, Greg. And you will leave it alone. Or else I’ll be out of your life for good.”

  And with that she pushed him out of the room and locked the door behind him.

  He leaned up against the door, dazed.

  He swore he could hear her weeping.

  Chapter 13

  Summer 1817

  Parties were supposed to make you happy but all Mary wanted to do was cry. In fact it was all she’d done all morning. Even before Greg showed up at her door she shed a few tears. After he left though, she sobbed until her head hurt.

  Eventually though, she just stopped crying on her own. And not because she wasn’t sad anymore or because her insides no longer felt torn to shreds. She still felt all of those things so raw and real but the truth was that she just had no more tears. She could cry forever and it would never heal this wound and so her body stopped her, a self-preservation technique that kept her living but not really alive.

  She’d wiped her eyes and powdered her face to cover the splotches. Another technique to mask this ache that would never cease.

  Mary didn’t even remember how she’d gotten to the party. She recalled that at one point Priscilla came to her room to meet her but everything after that was a blank. The only thing she could think about was Greg—today, yesterday and always—every memory they had ever shared flashed before her eyes and opened the wound again. She was in a dream state but it was more like a nightmare than a dream.

  Even the incessant chatter of Priscilla could not bring her out of this. She hadn’t admitted to Priscilla exactly what was wrong—she hadn’t even admitted it to herself until today—but she knew that Priscilla could tell she was hurting even if she didn’t really know why.

  “Well, that’s it,” Priscilla finally said as they stood together at the engagement at Brad’s London residence.

  “What is?” Mary’s voice was far off and weak. Her mind was even farther off, so far off that she didn’t even care that the flowers were all wrong, or that lighting was too bright, or that the guests were people she either didn’t know or didn’t care for. Brad knew nothing about her and right now, she didn’t even care about that.

  “You. This,” Priscilla insisted as she waved her hands to encompass Mary and all of the recent events together.

  “I’m not sure what you mean…” Mary didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t even know what she would say.

  “Stop lying to me. You know very well what I’m talking about.”

  “Of course I do.” Mary finally snapped. “Did you ever think there’s a reason I’m not talking about it?”

  Priscilla recoiled from Mary’s sharp tone, but she didn’t back down. “Of course I can see that, but I can also see that whatever it is, well, it’s eating you alive… and if you don’t let it out, then—” Priscilla’s head shook with a frustrated motion. “Well, it’s going to tear you apart.”

  “Too late for that. I’m already nothing more than shreds…”

  “Anything can be repaired if only you want to do it…” Priscilla paused as she wrung her hands about in front of her. “If you won’t tell me, then perhaps you might tell—”

  Mary set her jaw. “No, Priscilla. That’s over now. Greg is… no longer an option.” Mary realized the duality in that last phrase and apparently Priscilla did too.

  “So it’s as I thought, then,” Priscilla said with a new sadness in her voice.

  “What’s as you thought? Out with it.” Mary was done with games.

  Priscilla sighed and reluctantly went on. “The source of your sadness—”

  “Sadness?” Mary shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, Priscilla. I only wish I had sadness.”

  “Fine then.” Priscilla wasn’t about to give up. “Pain, anguish, ache, sorrow. Do any of those fit? No matter if they are perfect descriptions. You know what I speak of.”

  Mary didn’t answer her.

  “Greg is the reason why you’re in such a state. You’re in love with him. And he’s in love with you.” Priscilla’s eyes lit up as she read into Mary’s deepest thoughts. “I knew it. I knew it from the very moment I first saw you together at that party years ago. It was so obvious…”

  Mary winced. What if she had seen it back then as well? Would she be dancing with Greg at their engagement party instead?

  Suddenly she was very mad.

  At herself, at Greg, at Priscilla. At the world.

  “We’re done talking about this, Priscilla.”

  But Priscilla continued on. “You don’t want to marry Lord Hampton. You want to marry Greg…”

  “Stop it, Priscilla! Please. It doesn’t matter what I want. I’ve had my fair share of ‘want’ and I used it poorly. All that matters now is what I must do. Now please. Leave this alone. You’re only making it worse.”

  Priscilla reached out to touch Mary’s arm and comfort her but Mary pulled away. She didn’t want comfort. She didn’t deserve it.

  Mary saw the look of hurt in Priscilla’s eyes and she suddenly felt awful. She was tired of hurting people. But it seemed to happen to everyone she cared about. It was like a curse and it weighed heavily on her heart.

  “Priscilla, I’m sorr—” But before Mary could finish her apology she felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

  She knew tha
t hand. She turned quickly so he would have to stop touching her but his touch had left a lingering disruption inside of her. It wasn’t that he’d done anything wrong. It wasn’t who he was, it was simply who he wasn’t.

  “Mary,” he took her hand and gave it a little kiss. “You are absolutely radiant tonight.”

  What a bunch of bollocks, Mary thought as she wiped at her splotchy skin. But she silently thanked him for having the tact to pretend otherwise. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about that in their marriage.

  “I’d be thrilled to have this dance, Mary.” He smiled at Mary and then looked to Priscilla. “Do you mind, Lady Thurston?”

  Priscilla nodded. “Whatever makes my dear friend happy. That’s all I want after all.”

  Mary looked down at her hands and noticed a drop of blood on her glove. She quickly looked up at Brad and noticed that his lip was beginning to swell.

  “What—”

  Brad realized what she was looking at. “Oh this?” He removed his handkerchief and patted at his lip. “Just a friendly spar between friends to celebrate this wonderful occasion.”

  Greg, Mary thought. But Greg wasn’t one for violence, no matter the circumstance. Not even this. What could Brad have said to him to provoke such a reaction?

  “I’ll get you a new pair of gloves. An even better pair. But for now let’s enjoy the evening and let’s dance.” Brad smiled. “Shall we, my girl?”

  She hated when he called her that.

  Those are Greg’s words. And mine. Those words belong to us.

  But she knew she could never explain to Brad the reason these words pained her so.