2 comments/ 13935 views/ 8 favorites Worlds Apart Ch. 01 By: secretsxywriter In my circle of friends, I embody the term "social butterfly." I do it without thinking, like breathing. Yet despite this innate ability, the last thing I wanted to do was go to Cristal's party tonight. The invitation had said "house warming." But knowing my best friend, I could read between the lines. It was only an excuse for her to show off her decorating skills on yet another client's house. Just because I wasn't in the mood to socialize didn't mean I was going to slack off in the appearance department, though. Six hours before show time, I visited my regular spa. My muscles half-asleep from my massage, I took a seat at Jacque's station and fingered a small white card that I had found tucked into my invitation. He magically turned my straight mane of ebony hair into loose curls that bounced softly around my face, and I pondered the five simple words in a smooth, professional handwriting on one side of the card: 'Your Saks card is lonely.' Normally, I don't indulge in a new outfit for these events as they tend to be numerous throughout the year. However, I could tell Cristal was up to another matchmaking attempt, hence the reason I had gone all-out at the spa. My pampering complete, I browsed the rack of dresses at the mall, remembering the last guy she had try tried to hook me up with. Sure, he had been handsome...and rich...but I wasn't into the old-Jack Nicholson thing. I had been polite, but after the party, I had made it clear to my friend that she could have found someone closer to my age. Hopefully, the candidate tonight would be in his thirties, like me, or forties at the most. I made myself fashionably late to the address located in the area of town where you had to have a six-digit bank account balance to even speak to a real-estate agent. I couldn't help laughing at the fact that there was a valet service as I pulled through the iron gates and around the circle drive. This host had spared no expense...and Cristal would surely be reaping the benefits herself. As she was prone to remind people, her name was spelled and pronounced "like the champagne, not the chandelier," and her taste far surpassed her self-worth. I had never quite understood her obsession with catering only to the wealthy as their attitudes and opinions tended to be up in the stratosphere. But I wasn't going to complain when the sexiest Latino this side of the border opened the door to my Mazda Miata...and then offered me a hand. Whatever he said I could not understand, but it rolled off his tongue in fluent Spanish, and ended with "senorita" and a kiss brushed across my knuckles. Maybe this wouldn't be such a drag tonight. "Danae!" I heard my name as soon as I walked through the ornately-carved front door—held open by a butler in a black tux, no less. Arms surrounded me as soft lips kissed both of my cheeks and the heady scent of jasmine filled my nostrils. "Hello, Cristal. It's good to see you." I hugged her back and returned the gesture she had picked up in Europe during her frequent travels. "I thought you'd never get here." She held me out at arm's length. "You've been shopping! Excellent choice. He'll love it." "Yes, I got your message. I'm glad you approve." I glanced at my reflection in the gilded mirror behind her. The off-the-shoulder sapphire-blue cocktail dress I'd chosen covered all of my assets, but not entirely, leaving just enough to the imagination. And the satin material shimmered under a thin layer of black lace to the effect that my dark hair had a blue tint. Paired with a lace choker embedded with blue rhinestones and matching teardrop earrings, it was a wonder I wasn't blinking like a Christmas tree under the lights of the gigantic chandelier above us. I let her take my arm and lead me away from the front door, my heels clicking on the marble-tiled floor. "Who exactly is he?" Cristal squeezed my arm and whispered in my ear, "He is the owner of this fine establishment." I took in the expansive foyer as we walked. A crackled-faux finish covered the walls. The focal point was an alcove with a chaise lounge in a cream material with a bolt of burgundy fabric draped over it. Anyone else would have said it had been thrown there, but knowing Cristal, it had been placed just-so to get the desired effect. An antique vase on a broken stone pedestal and a cluster of grapes spilling out of a bowl on its side were arranged on the ground. A vineyard mural decorated the alcove's inset. "Do we get to visit Tuscany throughout the house, or just in the entryway?" Her lower lip appeared, as well as the puppy-dog eyes, which on her were truly chocolate brown. The huge diamond on her ring finger proved that the look had worked at least once. "You don't like it." "I didn't say that. I'm just trying to get a...feel...for this new candidate. I mean, if he wants to decorate the house like a villa, he should have just bought one instead of renovating a Chicago mansion. Save the taxpayers some money." "Sometimes I wonder why I invite you to my parties." She stopped before a pair of open French doors. "Please behave. Pretend if you have to." I gave her a squeeze in return. "You invite me because I'm your best friend. And you need me to keep the conversation flowing...even if it is as eye candy." "Good evening, ladies," a velvety-smooth masculine voice said, interrupting our little tête-à-tête. "Madame Cristal, I see your guest has arrived." I mouthed "Madame?" at Cristal. When I turned toward the owner of the voice, I found myself struck speechless by a pair of eyes that matched my dress, save the depth in the former that made me feel like I was being draw into a dark pool. "Vincente, please meet my best friend, Danae. Danae, our host, Vincente." His eyes locked on mine, and he took my hand from Cristal's arm, lifting it to his lips. I jerked slightly at the coolness of his skin. But if I had thought the valet's kiss was sexy, this guy made it seem like we were the only two people in the world and our fate balanced on the result of this sole act. His lips were just as cool—almost icy—but his breath was warm as it caressed my fingers. A mixture of shivers and heat rushed up my arm. I blinked and forced a smile despite the confusion I felt. This man was definitely an enigma. While I normally embraced a challenge like him, something told me to keep my distance tonight. "It's nice to meet you, Vincente. Your home is lovely, from what I've seen so far. Cristal has done a wonderful job." "I am greatly pleased that you are impressed, Madame Danae." He stepped to the side and gestured for us proceed. "If you would both please join me in the parlor, the celebration has already begun." ### I passed the next few hours standing amongst small clusters of guests, sipping expensive champagne—Cristal's namesake if my taste buds were correct—taking in the surroundings, and eavesdropping for feedback. The villa theme had thankfully ended in the foyer. The parlor had been done in shades of blue and gold. And while modern and comfortable, there was still an air of wealth in the fabrics and décor as well. The overall consensus was that everyone was impressed with the renovations. However, no one knew anything about our tuxedo-clad host with the thick black hair slicked back from his tanned, chisel-carved face except that he was not from America. And obviously had money to spend. Not to mention he was gorgeous and most likely single. Even more perplexing was that from an appearance standpoint, he seemed to be around my age—mid-thirties. But his whole demeanor said he was older. Much older. I was nibbling on an hors d'oeuvre of stuffed mushrooms when a tinkling bell silenced the room. "If you would all be so kind and join me in the foyer, the tour will begin now." Vincente's deep voice reminded me of The Old Spice Man in the modern commercials, and goosebumps prickled my arms. He raised one hand, flicked his fingers once, and then proceeded to lead the guests through Tuscany to the main staircase. "Well, what do you think?" Cristal lined her arm through mine. We trailed after the group who whispered amongst themselves as our guide explained what aspects had been remodeled and why. "It's a lovely house. I said that already." I shrugged and leaned in to get a closer look at a statue of two snakes carved out of marble. They were intertwined in what could only be perceived as a sexual position, and their placement on a pedestal at the first landing made it hard to miss. "If you've seen one, you've seen them all." Cristal snickered and then tugged me along. "I was referring to the man, not the house." "Vincente?" I raised an eyebrow and pursed my lips. "He is very attractive." "But?" "There's just something about him...I don't know what it is." "You, my dear, are too picky." "Well, if I were to settle down with one of your many suitors, you would no longer have any fun trying to set me up." Cristal only rolled her eyes and pointed out another statue. This one was a nude man and woman, also engaged in sex. She waggled her eyebrows at me and then tugged me onward. I wondered how many more statues were displayed on the premises. Had Cristal found them or had he? And how much longer was this going to take? While I'd enjoyed being pampered and getting dressed up, I still wished I were home tonight, curled up with a good book. On the third floor, Vincente pointed down one hallway toward a set of closed wooden doors and simply said, "My private quarters lie beyond. And they shall remain private." Several women giggled as Vincente winked and flashed a grin at them. When our eyes met, though, I swear the color of his eyes deepened and his smile hardened for the slightest moment. It was the most seductive look I'd ever received from a man. And if I didn't know better, it was suggestive as hell. I suppressed the moan that slithered up my throat. Thankfully, he turned to lead the group onward. "I didn't get to renovate his quarters." Cristal jerked her chin back over her shoulder. "He was insistent on that. Kept the doors locked." "That's understandable." We squeezed ourselves onto a balcony that looked down on a library. "At least the man has some dignity." She frowned. "But aren't you the least bit curious?" "The least bit." But I was instantly jealous of all the books lining the floor-to-ceiling shelves. I wondered what topics they covered. How old they were. And had he read any of them. "Would you like to see them up close?" Vincente whispered in my ear. I froze, my heartbeat doing a happy little pitter-patter as his breath caressed my neck. Slowly, I turned, only to stare into those mesmerizing blue orbs again. I hoped my cheeks weren't revealing the heat I could feel in them now. "The books? I'd love to." Cristal winked at me as Vincente took my arm once more. I tried to ignore the whispers as he led me ahead of the group and we headed downstairs to the second floor. He told a story about how he had acquired some of the books, but my mind was elsewhere. Mostly on how warm his fingers felt against my bare skin. Controlling yet gentle. Almost burning, branding me. It was maddeningly delicious. And ultimately strange since his touch had been cool only minutes earlier. He continued to escort me throughout the second floor as he unveiled guestrooms, sitting rooms, two more libraries, and a very elaborate bathroom that I could have fit my entire condo in. Back on the first floor, among the many rooms we visited, I was most impressed with the ballroom, the gourmet kitchen, and finally the largest dining room I had ever seen. "I used to hold many dinners and balls in my former home. The table was custom made to seat fifty." Vincente leaned in to whisper to me again. "It is most comfortable with just two, also." The shivers returned. I refused to look at him, to let him see my reaction. I merely smiled and nodded, letting him lead me back to the parlor where the party had begun. When he stepped away to mingle with the other guests, I felt a sudden emptiness. "Well, aren't you something special?" Cristal squeezed my hand and offered me another glass of champagne, which I declined with a wave of my hand. "I think he likes you." I snorted softly, not wanting to hope. "You think everyone likes me." "We'll see." And with that she wiggled her fingers at me and walked off, too. I found myself standing alone by the French doors, torn between wanting to sneak out and wanting to stay. I had finally decided to leave and feel miserable at home alone when I turned and ran into the literal abs of steel—Vincente. "Leaving so soon, Madame Danae?" His fingers brushed my forearm when he reached out to steady me. His hand lingered mid-air, a hairs-breadth away, but it felt as if he were touching me all the same. I wanted him to touch me. I found myself silently begging for it. "I-I need some fresh air." For some reason, I lowered my eyes. I tried to swallow, but when I noticed his groin, how it seemed to move—not just bulge—I choked. "Maybe the crowd is too much for you. Would you care to visit somewhere more quiet?" "Won't your guests miss you?" I couldn't think of any other valid reason to deny his request. I glanced up at him then. His eyes seemed to shine now. "They are not here to see me. It is my house that interests them most." "Who can blame them?" I suddenly wanted nothing more than to go with him. But still I hesitated to follow when he backed into the foyer. "Your library alone has me green with envy." He chuckled softly. "Honesty is a good virtue. So let me be honest with you, mademoiselle. Your friend has been most entertaining while she helped me renovate my new home. And she has brought many interesting guests to see the success. However, you are the one I wish to be entertaining myself." Once again, my cheeks burned. And I itched to be beside him. So I allowed him to take my hand and lead me to the stairway. His cool palm warmed against mine, and I instinctively gripped it tighter. As we ascended, I glanced into the parlor and saw Cristal lean back and catch my eye. Her eyes and her grin grew wide, and then she turned back to the couple talking to her. When we passed the second floor landing, I paused. "We're not going to the library?" "Too easily distracted." He continued on, and I could only follow, somewhat curious now. At the third floor landing, he turned down the hall to his private quarters. My heart skipped a beat. When we reached the double-wooden doors, he inserted a key and punched a code into a keypad in the wall. There was a soft snick as a lock released, and then he opened the door. "After you, Madame Danae." I slinked past him and stopped in my tracks. It was like we had entered another time, and I don't mean the Tuscan countryside downstairs. The main room looked like a scene from a movie about the 1500s, but I was sure none of the pieces of furniture or art were props. All that was missing were stone walls and turrets. I heard Vincente chuckle behind me. "You are easily shocked, mademoiselle." He pressed a hand to my back and gently guided me inside so he could close the door. "I'm sorry, I just hadn't expected..." "Your mind has limitations. You have to...what is the term? Think outside the box? Let your mind expand to the possibilities. Would you care for a drink?" I think I nodded, hoping I wasn't gaping. I felt out of place, practically naked in my little cocktail dress. Although Vincente didn't seem to mind. He left my side and poured red liquid from a crystal decanter into two wine glasses. He acted at ease in the old-fashioned but elegant room. As if he actually believed he was in 16th Century France, not just a room decorated like it. He handed me a glass and then took my free hand, leading me to a velvet-covered couch—or rather, a settee if one was using the proper term for the time period. "Please, sit, Madame Danae." "You know, you can just call me Danae." "As you wish. It is a beautiful name." I blushed again and tipped my chin toward him as he sat in a high-back chair situated at an angle across from me. He crossed his legs and took a sip from his glass. I mimicked him, and felt my eyes widen as the liquid coated my tongue and slowly slid down my throat. "Is this wine?" "In a way." He smiled and cupped the glass in his palm. "It is better. It is a delicacy where I come from. Do you like it?" "Yes, very much so. Although, it's hard to describe the taste." His smile grew wider. His eyes lit up as he sat back. "Please try. I am curious about what you think." I took another small sip, swished the liquid around in my mouth, and then swallowed. "It has a velvety texture. It doesn't taste like grapes. Maybe berries? But not fruity." He only lifted his glass to his lips and sipped. Something inside of me fluttered at the sight of this handsome, mysterious man watching me, sipping a strange drink that made my own mouth salivate. Wine usually dried out my mouth, although I wasn't opposed to drinking the good stuff. But this—whatever it was—was so delicious, I couldn't get enough of it. I wanted to gulp my whole glass. I felt like I hadn't had anything else to drink in ages. I didn't want anything else. For the longest time, I just sipped out of politeness, somehow tearing my eyes from him to look around. I still couldn't believe the different decorating style compared to the rest of the house. If Cristal had been allowed in here, she might have had a heart attack from so much joy at seeing a treasure like this. Everything looked vintage—and in perfect condition. "Is this more to your liking, Danae?" I blinked and turned my attention back to him. He gestured to where I was sitting and then the room in general. I nodded. "It's quite comfortable. And yes, it is quiet." "Relaxing, yes?" "Of course." "Are you currently engaged with anyone, Danae?" I tried not to laugh. The man was so formal. Yet candid. "No, I am not dating anyone. Much to Cristal's dismay." "Ahh. She would like to have you settled down as she is?" I merely smiled and shrugged. "Is that something you would like?" "Maybe. Someday." "Where I come from, a lady was courted. Intendeds were chosen by the suitor's parents and prepared at an early age. When they were old enough, they would attend many dinners and balls to be introduced to society as a couple before the wedding ceremony took place." "Arranged marriages?" "Yes. It is the way of the world sometimes." I shook my head. "That doesn't seem fair to either the man or woman. Or the boy or girl in this case. I just don't believe in it." "What do you believe in, Danae?" I shifted to get more comfortable in the corner of the settee and thought for a moment. "Love, I suppose. Mutual attraction and desire." "Interesting. If it eases your mind, the most handsome of men would have fought to be your suitor. You would not have been unhappy." Heat warmed my cheeks, and I wished I wasn't embarrassed so easily. At least by him. "Well, that's promising. Tell me, Vincente, what was the purpose of marriages where you come from?" He lifted his glass and watched me over the rim as he sipped. And then he said, "Reproduction." "Really?" I scrunched up my nose. "That's so...animalistic." "It depends on how you view it. Are we not all animals at some point? Especially in the sexual arena? You and I are not so much different." I did laugh this time. "Honey, we are so different. I would only marry a man if I loved him...and he loved me. If we had children, so be it. But it's not the sole reason to get married." "Would you sleep with a man you did not love? Did not marry?" I couldn't answer that one honestly. For all the men Cristal had set me up with, I had not slept with any of them. I don't think I was saving myself for a special occasion like a honeymoon, but I had not felt that pull that I wanted to engage intimately with a man. At least not until tonight. Worlds Apart Ch. 01 Vincente smiled at me. "Unlike humans, the mating rituals of many animals are almost...barbaric." I raised an eyebrow. "For instance?" "Cats." He took another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving mine. I mirrored his gesture. "How so?" "The male of the species has a barbed phallus so as to rake the female's inner genitalia on withdrawal. Thus triggering ovulation as well as cleaning the area in case she has previously mated to better ensure conception from the latest male." I almost spat out my drink. Somehow, I managed to swallow it. "That's disgusting!" "It is the way of nature." He flicked his fingers at the air as if this were an everyday topic of conversation. "Snakes act in a similar way. The male has an inverted organ that is pushed out from within its body and is inserted into the female's genitalia. The spines or hooks on the organ grip onto the female during copulation." "I don't doubt that that's the way they have sex, but that doesn't mean I want to hear about it." Talk about a mood killer. "My apologies. I have offended you." He was frowning now. It was not a good look on him. "Just change the topic, okay? Anything but snakes having sex." "May I top you off?" I tilted my glass to see the remaining liquid. The buzz I'd had from the champagne earlier—and the close proximity to Vincente during the tour—had worn off and had yet to return. "Sure, why not." He retrieved the decanter and held my glass still as he poured. Our fingers touched, and I felt that hot rush again. His eyes stayed on my glass this time, but the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk. I nodded my thanks. "At least human sex is enjoyable for both parties." "Most of the time, yes." He returned to his seat and cupped the bowl of his glass in his palm again, gently swirling the liquid. "It can be a pleasurable experience, so I'm told." I had raised my glass to my lips, but I suddenly lowered it. "So you're told?" He only shrugged. "Seriously? A man like you? What, no arranged marriage?" "Alas, no. It is a long story that I will tell you another time." I finally took another sip of his equally mysterious elixir. And noticed how his glass—his first glass—was still half-full. "Why aren't you drinking, too?" He tipped his glass toward me before taking a sip. "I am relishing the taste. And I am used to it." "Don't I feel like a lush," I mumbled and set my glass aside. "Please, do not be offended. It is a new experience for you. It is understandable—even expected—to imbibe heavily at first. But you will get used to it and learn to appreciate the drink for what it is." "You talk as if this will become a regular habit. In this country, we call that being an alcoholic." I eyed my glass, and my fingers twitched, wanting to pick it up again. "Perhaps." "Then I will definitely be a lush." His chuckle sent shivers down my back and warmth pooling between my legs. Damn, he was really laying it on thick. Where had Cristal found this one? "Do you happen to have a bathroom in your private quarters?" "Of course." He stood with me and led me down a short hallway to a spacious bathroom that sported an authentic-looking claw foot tub and what I was sure was a bidet. Before I entered, his hand pressed against the small of my back, and my knees wobbled. "Are you alright, Danae?" I said, "Yes," but I was biting my lower lip as I closed the door. I had to breathe deep several times before I could cross the room and use the facilities. I was tempted to look in the cabinets below the bowl sink, just to get an idea about this man, but I restrained myself. I ran my fingers through my hair instead, wondering where I'd set my purse down since it contained my extra tube of lipstick. When I returned to the main room, Vincente was not there. I was about to call his name when he stepped up behind me. His arms slid around, pulling me back against his chest. "Oh! Hello." "You are beautiful, Danae." His breath caressed my neck, and I forced myself not to moan...until he moved my hair away with his fingertips and his lips brushed my bare skin. "You smell wonderful, too." "Vincente..." I wasn't sure if I wanted him to stop or not. I could hear my heart thumping in my ears, and my mouth was dry. I suddenly wished I had more of his wine. "Danae..." His hands slid down to grasp my hips, holding me still while he pressed up against me from behind. I gulped, feeling his bulge. When it moved, I whimpered. "Shh." He kissed my neck again, flicking his tongue at my sensitive skin. I grabbed onto his arms to stay upright. Especially when his hands slid up my sides and grazed my breasts. I gasped when he turned me. His mouth descended on mine, cutting off my cry of surprise. His warm lips gently rubbed against mine, his tongue pressing for entry. My knees went weak again, and I felt lightheaded. It was an effort to retain my grip on him. When I opened my mouth to sigh, his tongue snaked in and teased mine. That's when my legs gave out and I collapsed. But he caught me. Gathered me up into his arms. Carried me across the main room. I could see the closed doors to the rest of the house over his shoulder, as well as another keypad on the wall. Were we locked in while everyone was locked out? The thought died away as he deepened the kiss. He occupied every sense, every thought, every fiber. I felt like I was drowning. And I didn't want it to stop. But he broke the kiss and maneuvered down a dark hallway toward a glowing doorway. As we entered , I saw a multitude of candles arranged around the room. Had he done all of this while I was in the bathroom? He had assumed quite a lot. But since we were both here, I had to admit he had been correct. He laid me down on a large black bed covered in animal-print fur, detaching himself from me to remove his tuxedo jacket and white shirt. I moaned as I saw his bare chest, tanned and void of hair. And the six-pack abs that disappeared into his slacks with that prominent "V" shape. He removed my high heels, his fingers grazing over my ankles and feet, making me shudder. Then he lay beside me, gathering me into his arms again as his mouth covered mine. Our legs intertwined, and all I could think about was this man making love to me. All night long. ### I woke lying on my stomach, feeling like I hadn't slept in days. My mouth was dry, my body felt numb, and my mind was hazy. I stretched, groaning softly, feeling the fur blanket brush against my naked skin, arousing me even as I felt confused about my current state. I remembered coming to Cristal's party, being given a tour by Vincente, and then coming upstairs to his private suite with him. We had drunk a delicious wine concoction, and then he had kissed me and brought me to this bed. I smiled into the pillow under my cheek at that thought. What I could not recollect was if we had had sex or not. Or how long I had been here. Or when I had passed out. If I wasn't exhausted from sex, then possibly it was a result of whatever I had been drinking. But as Vincente had poured his own glass from the same bottle and within my view, I doubted he had slipped me anything. Then again, he had said he was used to drinking it...and I had consumed at least twice as much as him. My fingers curled into the fur, and I sighed at the soft, cool texture. It was an effort to open my eyes even a little, but I could see that the room was still only lit by candles. And I could hear nothing but my own breathing. "Vincente?" There was no response. When I tried to roll over onto my back, my arms jerked, and I was forced onto my stomach again. That's when I noticed the two chains leading out from under the pillow. Each was made of links that were only a couple of inches long if that, and half as wide. They looked sturdy despite their size. I raised up on my elbows and saw how each chain hooked to a metal ring in the headboard. The also appeared secure. I used my teeth to pull the pillow aside, choking when I saw the padded cuff around each of my wrists. The ring where the chain attached. The small padlock that linked the cuff together through the ring and chain. "Vincente!" I tugged on my bindings. "Shh, Danae. Relax." I don't know what shocked me more, his voice right behind me or the caress of his fingers against the small of my back. "What is going on?" "Do not be alarmed." His fingers stroked down over my ass, and heat pooled between my legs against my will. "You are so beautiful." "You're not the one handcuffed to a stranger's bed!" I refused to cry. And I tried very hard not to show any reaction when his hand slid up over my right hip and traced a line from my waist, along my side, and up to my breast. My body had other plans, though, and arched against his hand. As he continued to slowly and lightly run his hand over my naked backside—igniting each inch he touched on fire—I heard him hum softly. It sounded like he was singing, but it wasn't any song I'd ever heard before. "Vincente, please." "Please, what, Danae?" There was a pause in his humming as his finger grazed over a sensitive spot on my waist and I jerked with a gasp. He repeated the gesture—I jerked again—and then he resumed his song, or whatever it was. "Tell me why I am bound." "So I may pleasure you completely." His hand moved down to the back of my left thigh. "Do you not want to be pleasured?" I groaned, forcing my legs to stay closed while wanting to spread them wide in invitation. "I have to be handcuffed to be pleasured?" His fingers played behind my knee. "Are you uncomfortable?" I started to answer, but then I held my tongue. I was actually anything but uncomfortable. At least in the way he was implying. "Your silence speaks volumes." And saying that, his hand slid up between my thighs and dove directly into the source of my 'uncomfortable' heat. I bit the pillow to muffle my moan, but my body betrayed me as it trembled. "You are enjoying this despite your reservations." It wasn't a question, and I didn't have the voice to answer if it had been. Instead, I closed my eyes and relaxed, feeling my legs fall open as his fingers searched and stroked. In a matter of minutes, he made me feel as if my muscles had disconnected from my bones. Made me moan and writhe uncontrollably beneath his touch. The feel of the fur blanket pushing through my fingers and rubbing against my breasts and stomach only heightened the sensation. I tripped along on tiny little orgasms, never quite falling over the edge, but I wasn't going to complain. At some point, he moved between my legs. I felt the tops of his thighs touch the back of mine as he slid an arm under my belly and raised me up so I was supported on my knees. I thought of how it must look, my ass in the air, but his hand returned to stroking between my legs and the thought drifted away on another small orgasm. "I want to make love to you, Danae." His voice was low and absolutely serious. Formal, even. I just moaned into the pillow, jerking as his other hand grazed over my hip and slid up to caress my breast. Did he think I would deny him now? He pinched and rolled my hard nipple, making me cry out. The flat of his hand covered and soothed the brief pain he had created. Then his hand was back on my hip, his fingers gently pressing into my skin. I had to turn my head on the pillow to breathe. I'm glad I did, because the next thing I felt was his cock pressing against me. "So, so beautiful." My cries and moans intermingled as he slowly slid inside me. I'd never had official "sex," but I had extensive experience with toys. Still, I had not known what to expect. It was tight at first, but he had taken so much time to prepare my body, there was no pain. His fingers had felt wonderful. His cock, ten times more so. He gripped both of my hips now, and pulled me back onto him until his hips pressed against my ass. We were both still for the longest time. And then I felt him moving within me. I whimpered as he withdrew almost completely and stopped again. I felt his hand between our bodies, and I swear he was stroking himself while still penetrating me. He pushed back in so slowly it was excruciating. Wasn't he supposed to stroke faster or harder until we both came? I had to remind myself that he'd said he'd never experienced sex himself. Maybe he did not know what to do. Yet he seemed to not be a novice at this intimate act. He pulled out again and I could feel his hand bumping my ass as he stroked himself once more. I swear he had gotten bigger when he slid back in at that ridiculously slow pace. I arched my back and spread my knees wider to get comfortable. I clutched the fur beneath me, whimpering at my frustration...and the pressure of him stretching me even more now. "Shh, Danae. That's a good girl." He repeated the withdrawal-insertion method one more time. He had grown yet again. And it was almost painful now as he sheathed himself the third time. But he slid a hand around and fingered my clit, distracting me. His hips slammed hard into my ass suddenly, and I choked from the impact. He did not move except for his fingers still stroking me. I started shaking. And moaning. Yet, he remained still. When I tried to move my own hips, his grip tightened until I stopped. He was humming again, his fingers never ceasing as they thrummed my clit. I was about to ask him if he was okay when I felt a sharp stab in my pelvis. I cried out as he grunted and then began stroking like I had expected all along. I got lost in the moment, the building pleasure drowning out the brief pain. I was sweating, panting as his motions carried me along on a wave of bliss. Even the knowledge of my hands locked in cuffs heightened my arousal. Underneath it all, though, there was a dull tugging sensation deep within me. But I couldn't focus on it or rationalize what it was. All I cared about was reaching that precipice and falling over into oblivion, as temporary as it may be. His humming had turned into whispered chants. But then again, I don't think I was thinking straight, so I could have been wrong. His hands gripped the tops of my thighs now where my legs joined my torso. Each press of his fingertips sent little shocks throughout me. And it only pushed me on toward that release. I mumbled—more to myself than to him—begging him not to stop. I was so close. And just as I hit it, Vincente slammed his hips into my ass and held me against him. I shook and moaned. He remained completely still as far as I could tell. And then he was slowly pulling out of me, gently settling me back on the bed as aftershocks still rocked my body. I felt him slide his hands under the pillow and release the cuffs before covering me with a blanket and kissing the top of my head. ### I must have fallen asleep again. When I opened my eyes, most of the candles were burnt out. A fur blanket still covered me from the waist down. I felt Vincente behind me, his breath warm against my neck. His arm was draped over me, his hand loosely cupping my breast. I smiled and scooted back against him, closing my eyes. It was nice just lying there in his arms, feeling his chest moving against my back as he slept. My mind wandered from our lovemaking session to the party downstairs to what Cristal must be thinking. When nature called, I carefully extracted myself and slipped out of the bed. I tried not to trip on my shoes and clothes as I watched him sleeping. His lower half was covered with another fur blanket, but the rest of him was laid bare. And it was all pure, hard man. Even at peace, his muscles were intimidating. I struggled to pull my eyes away. His shirt hung over the back of a chair by the door. I pulled it on, rolled up the sleeves, and found the bathroom again. My reflection in the mirror above the sink showed that Vincente had left my jewelry on after he'd stripped me, and my hair was tousled in that "just had sex" look. On the return trip, I spotted an antique clock on the fireplace mantel. It was one in the morning...or else I'd slept a lot longer than I'd imagined. Either way, the rest of the guests—Cristal included—would have gone home by now, especially with the host gone AWOL. My stomach growled. I glanced over my shoulder toward the bedroom where I'd left Vincente in dreamland and then went on a search for something to eat. Just as I suspected, there was a kitchenette—arranged and decorated like the rest of the private quarters, save for a small, modern refrigerator. I found a box of crackers in the first cabinet, and suddenly wanted more of that wine. I had just set my filled glass on the counter and stuffed a cracker in my mouth when I heard the wooden floor creak behind me. I spun around and froze, cracker crumbs tumbling out of my mouth. "Hungry, Danae?" Vincente crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the doorframe. He wore only the slacks from his tuxedo, the zipper up but the button and belt undone. A smile crept across his face and lit up his eyes under the shock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. I wiped my hand across my mouth and tried to speak, but nothing came out, so I nodded. "My apologies. I should have considered that and offered you something myself." He chuckled. "Please, make yourself at home. What's mine is yours." I raised an eyebrow and took a sip of my drink. For some reason, I did not think I should take that last comment lightly. He stepped out of the room for a moment and returned with his own glass. He clinked it against mine and took a sip. "So..." I wasn't sure how to broach the bondage topic. I kept my eyes on anything and everything besides him as I munched on a second cracker. I washed it down with wine and reached for yet another ...only to bump into his fingers as they also reached for the same. "Sorry." "Do not apologize, Danae." Instead of moving his hand away, he took my fingers, stroking them between his thumb and fingers. He turned my hand over and lifted it to his mouth where he kissed my palm. Then his gaze met mine. My breath caught in my throat. I swear I saw fire flickering deep within his eyes. I managed to set my glass down without spilling it, and then I grabbed the countertop. After blinking several times, I knew I must have been mistaken because all that stared back at me were those gorgeous blue spheres. "You're trembling." He still held my hand in one of his. He placed his other hand flat on my chest above my breasts where the borrowed shirt gaped. If he thought that would calm me, he was greatly mistaken. My heartbeat increased, as did the rise and fall of the swell of my breasts that I could see when I looked down. One of his fingers flicked at the choker still around my neck, grazing over the embedded stones. I gulped, closing my eyes for the briefest moment. I took a deep breath and opened them again, but they refused to remain that way when I felt his hand lower and unbutton his shirt that I was wearing. When his hand cupped my breast. When his thumb stroked my nipple to a maddening point. My legs wobbled then, and I squeezed his hand for support. "You are so beautiful, Danae." I felt him move and forced my eyes open once more, only to see him kneeling before me. He removed his hand from mine and then used both hands to open and move the shirt aside before taking my hips and turning me so my back was to the counter. I let out a strangled cry when his mouth covered my nipple and gently teased it with his tongue before sucking it between his teeth. He held my breast in one hand as he suckled, his other hand slinking around behind me to caress my lower back and ass. He gazed up at me as I whimpered. And then his fingers slid between my thighs. They stroked there languidly. I was thankful for the support of the countertop, but... Worlds Apart Ch. 01 "Bed," I managed to get out between pants. I had to have him inside me again. Now. "As you wish." He swung me up into his arms, and our mouths mashed together in a hot, wet kiss as he moved us to the bedroom again. I landed on my back, bouncing slightly, giggling. He stood at the foot of the bed between where my feet dangled off the edge. There wasn't much light with the candles dying out, but I swear his eyes flickered again with fire. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and smiled up at him, pulling the sides of the shirt open. I actually heard him growl, and then my eyes dropped down to where he was lowering his zipper. I whimpered, remembering how he had grown twice the first time we had sex. What did he look like to start with? "Do not be afraid, Danae." I licked my lips, my eyes darting up to his for only a second before returning to the prize he was unveiling. "You may be big, but I'm not scared." "That is good to hear." He pushed his slacks down, bending as he did so in a way that I could not see his cock. And then he was crawling across the bed toward me. Try as I might, I could not see him. But damn, I felt him when he laid between my legs and covered my mouth with his. His cock jerked against the inside of my thigh, and I could tell it was thick and hot and definitely big. I whimpered, arching my hips up to him. "Shh. All in good time." He teased me with his tongue until I was moaning and gripping his shoulders from behind. I was going delirious when he finally lifted himself and put his hand between us. His fingers pushed into my heat and slickness, flicking my clit with his thumb. Then he rose up even more. I took the opportunity to glance down...and wished I hadn't. What I saw almost made my heart stop, and it definitely stole my breath away. Understanding dawned, yet I was powerless to stop him. So as he entered me—ever so slowly just as before—I clamped my eyes shut and cried silent tears, wondering what nightmare I had woken up in. All I could see behind my eyelids was his hand guiding his cock...and the diamond-shaped head above his fist that had looked back at me with two glowing red eyes while a forked tongue slithered in and out between a pair of glistening fangs. I choked as I felt him push in all the way, pull out, stroke his cock, and push back in bigger than he had been. I dreaded what I could only imagine would happen after he did that a couple of times. The sharp stab as those fangs latched onto something within me. The dull tugging as he stroked his mutated cock, pushing and pulling that reptilian head back and forth—along with whatever it had attached to. The pleasure on my part diluting my senses so I would not realize what was really happening. The need for the handcuffs in case I had. Yet he had foregone them this time... "You have no idea how long I've searched for you, Danae." Vincente brushed his lips against mine as he held himself over me. "How perfect we will be together." The conversation we'd had over the wine before we had first entered the bedroom visualized in my head. While not exactly done in the same manner regular snakes would reproduce, it wasn't hard to imagine what he had meant when he'd said his culture married primarily for reproduction. To deduce what the snake head had chosen to—needed to—attach itself to...and the most likely purpose for that forked tongue. I couldn't believe I wasn't sick to my stomach with this enlightenment. Maybe the wine was affecting me more than I cared to admit. My despair slowly birthed curiosity. I could no longer deny that other-worldly atmosphere about my lover. Once more, I wavered between wanting to run away and desiring to understand him more. How old was this culture of his? Where had it derived from? What part did I play besides the recipient of his seed? The style and decoration of his private quarters now made sense. His formal approach to his guests...to Cristal...to me. The way his temperature fluctuated depending on our proximity. It was stupid of me not to see the hints that he had dropped. But how could I have known what he was implying? That the truth was so much more...twisted? Pleasure crept up and drowned out any reasoning in my head. My body reacted on impulse to what Vincente was doing to me. And when it was over, I was exhausted both physically and emotionally. I was still crying, shivering. Still not believing this had all happened...twice. Vincente turned me so my back was against him. He wrapped me in his arms and planted soft kisses over my shoulder and neck. One hand cupped and fondled my breast and nipple. The other rested on my belly, stroking lightly. He kept whispering against my hair, "Shh, Danae. You're safe now with me." I wanted to wake up from this dream. From this nightmare. But I could not fight it. I could not escape. And I wasn't sure that I wanted to. Which scared me even more. TO BE CONTINUED... ~ H Worlds Apart Ch. 02 I couldn't sleep. I wanted to, but I forced myself not to. If I allowed myself to drift off, I would be accepting this change of fate. Twenty-four hours ago, I had just wanted to support my best friend. To attend a party. To be the social butterfly that I was. Now, I wasn't sure if I wanted to strangle Cristal or beg for her help. She wasn't really to blame. She couldn't have possibly known the truth about Vincente. Could anyone have? As if he knew I was thinking about him, Vincente kissed the back of my shoulder. His lips were warm and moist as he moved over my skin. His teeth nipped. His tongue soothed the sharp pain. I bit my lip, stifling the moan that was rushing up my throat. The man drove me crazy. And that's exactly what I must be. Crazy. Delirious. Out of my mind. How else would anyone describe a person who didn't run away screaming after having just discovered that the guy she had slept with had cock with a serpent's head? "Are you asleep, my love?" Vincente's warm, velvety-smooth voice brushed my cheek. His fingers played with my hair, tucking a strand behind my ear. Then they lightly stroked along my jawline. My hormones told me to roll onto my back and let him devour me with those lips. But that's exactly what I was afraid he would do if I gave in. So instead, being the prey, I played dead. It took a lot of effort to breath evenly. My mother had told me she could always tell when I faked sleeping—apparently I had done it a lot as a child. I had no doubt that Vincente had better perception than she did. But maybe could I fool him. I moaned softly—as if dreaming—and rolled onto my stomach instead. When my face buried against the pillow, I sighed, not entirely faking it. The bed was comfortable, and I was exhausted. "My sweet Danae." Vincente trailed his fingers along the back of my neck where he gathered my long, black hair and swept it over my opposite shoulder. "You are so beautiful." I shivered involuntarily but resisted another moan. Hoped he was buying my act. He kissed my neck at the base of my skull. His nose buried in my hair, and I heard and felt him inhale deeply. Kisses trailed down my spine until he reached my shoulderblade. There, his tongue traced the curve of the jutting bone. As he neared my side, his fingers took over again. As much as I did not want to admit it, I anticipated where he would touch me next. I bit the pillow to silence my whimper when his fingertips brushed the edge of my breast, dipping ever so slightly to graze my nipple before they continued down my side. His hand cupped my hip then, and he began a slow trip down my spine with his tongue. I clenched my eyes shut and held my breath. The heat and moisture from his mouth against my skin made my own heat and moisture build up below. I refrained from squeezing my legs to quench the desire. I tried to remember what exactly he was—well, what I could fathom at least—and not focus on the delectable feeling of him touching me. Behind my eyes, I could see the diamond-shaped head with the two ruby-red eyes that had stared back at me only an hour earlier right before he slid inside me for the second time. Before he brought me to the second biggest orgasm of my life. Imagining how it had latched onto my cervix with those two fangs, tugging and pushing inside me as Vincente stroked his cock in and out of my pussy. How that forked tongue probably pushed his seed deeper inside of my womb as he came. A shudder passed through me as I remembered the story he had told me while we drank a strange and intoxicating wine. How in his culture, marriages were arranged and were solely for reproduction. How cats and snakes had sex in what would be considered barbaric ways. How he had never experienced the enjoyment of human sex himself. The vision in my head was so strong now that I cried out when I felt something pressing between my legs. It took me a second to realize it was his fingers, not his snake-headed cock. In my daze of concentration, my body had relaxed and he had taken advantage of the situation. I finally whimpered aloud, clutching at the pillow. My hips raised involuntarily, my legs spreading wider. His large hand moved forward, and I could feel it sliding against the insides of both thighs. I managed to get a breath before his fingers grazed over my clit and I cried out again. "That's a good girl," Vincente purred in my ear. All previous visions faded away as he began to stroke lightly, slowly. All around my clit but not touching it again. Back and forth along my now swollen labia, coating it with my own juices. I desperately wanted him to touch my clit again— or even more so, enter me. But I held my tongue. For the longest time, he teased. Aroused. Tormented. All I could was gasp for breath. Whimper. Writhe. The pungent smell of my desire filled the air, mixed with the fading scent of vanilla candles and manly musk. "Please..." I mumbled when I could take no more. "Please what, Danae?" He shifted, and I felt his mouth nuzzling at my left breast, his tongue licking along the side of it. "Oh, God, please!" I squirmed, trying to move his hand to where I needed it most. "This?" I cried out when he brushed against my clit. Once. Twice. Three times. "More!" "Mmm." His teeth nipped at the underside of my breast. Suddenly, he slid two thick fingers deep inside me, the heel of his hand bumping against my ass. "Vincente!" I convulsed, sensing the edge right there in front of me. "Let it go, my love." His fingers spread apart inside me, stroking now, hard and fast. He kissed the back of my left shoulder, nipping and licking again. I was panting, struggling to swallow, trying to climb to that precipice. Through my haze, I felt him sit up, his hip touching mine. His cock lay heavy and throbbing against the back of my thigh. Then I felt the heat of him as he leaned over me. When he nipped at my lower back, I came hard. I cried out as lights flashed behind my eyes and something inside of me came undone. I was left shaking. Moaning. Clutching blindly at whatever was in reach. And through it all, he continued stroking. I was floating back down to earth when he rolled me onto my back and took my left breast in his mouth. Another orgasm crashed through me as his tongue rasped against my nipple, and at the same time, he plunged into me. I forgot all about being scared of him—of his cock—for he began to fuck me like a normal, human man. All I could do was grip at his arms. His hands slid along the outsides of my thighs, pulling my knees up to frame his hips. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on for dear life. "Is this what you wanted, Danae?" His voice was hot against my ear, his tongue darting out to taste my neck. I mumbled something through my cries. My head rolled back and forth on the pillow as his thick cock drove in and out of me, stretching me open, rubbing against every sensitive spot. My breasts were heavy—aching—and I cried out when he bit down on my nipple, sucking it into his mouth, the flat of his tongue easing the sharp pain. It felt like I was on a never-ending rollercoaster of pleasure. Each time I headed down into the valley, Vincente stoked the fires within me and brought me back up the next hill. I lost count of how many times I came. All I could hear in my head were my own moans and cries. At some point, I began crying. I couldn't take any more. My body was numb and raw. I couldn't even hold onto Vincente and surrendered to just lying limply beneath him. His movements gradually slowed until they ceased altogether. He did not pull out, but I wasn't complaining. His cock was hard, producing a comforting fullness within me. I didn't even question how he could still be fully aroused after what must have been an hour of non-stop sex. The man was insatiable. And my body thanked him for it. ### I don't know how long I was out, but it had been a dreamless sleep. I felt rested, although quite sore. I sighed into the pillow beneath my cheek. I was in a conundrum. "I thought you might be hungry," Vincente's said from somewhere behind me. I turned over and propped myself up on one elbow. He stood in the doorway to the bedroom, his tuxedo pants back on and zipped up, but the belt was undone. His white dress-shirt hung open, the sleeves rolled up revealing the tanned and well-developed muscles of a man who could be a model for a living. And an underwear one at that. In his hands, he held a tray laden with fruits and pastries from what I could tell. I remembered borrowing said-shirt last night to make a trip to the restroom. It was shortly after that trip that he had found me scrounging around in his meager kitchenette for something to eat. A discovery that had led us back to this same bed...and a revelation of what I was really dealing with. "Thank you, I am famished." I sat up, letting the sheet drop to my waist. I heard his sharp intake of breath and my cheeks grew warm. I felt so shy, so childish. Yet, it pleased me that my naked body elicited such reactions from him. "Danae." His voice was a husky whisper, and his eyes were not on my face. "Do you want me to get up? Maybe come to the table?" I was having my own problems with breathing suddenly. After all of our lovemaking, I was rearing to go again, just by looking at him. He seemed to be breathing normal, but I saw him shudder. And then he nodded. "It may be best. Otherwise I may ravish you again, and you need nourishment." I couldn't help laughing. He was moved by my nakedness, yet he still retained his air of formality. "I don't suppose you have something I could wear besides this sheet? All I have is my cocktail dress." His blue eyes lit up when he smiled. He set the tray on a table just inside the doorway. And then he proceeded to remove the shirt off his back. "It suited you well last evening. It will make do until we can find other arrangements." I could only nod, the vision of his naked upper torso making my heart thump loudly in my head. As he approached, I felt my mouth watering. I rose up on my knees and he helped me put the shirt on. He then proceeded to button it up. "Vincente," I moaned as his fingers brushed against my thighs, my stomach, and then my breasts. When he reached the last two buttons, he left them undone, gathering the material in his hands and pulling me to him. Before our mouths met, he moaned in return. "Danae, oh sweet Danae." His lips were hot as they crushed against mine, his tongue pressing for entry. I did not deny him, covering his hands with mine. I would have been happy if he had pushed me back on the bed and taken me again right there. But he had better restraint than I. "You must eat," he said as he pulled away, taking my hand in his and helping me to my feet. I stumbled after him, pausing only as he retrieved the tray again. Down the hallway and past the kitchenette, there was a small room with a wall of frosted windows. The morning sun was subdued but still warmed the room. He set the tray on the table beneath the windows and took my hand, leading me to one of the two chairs. "Would you like something drink?" He still held onto my hand, his touch warm and comforting. "Of course. Please." I did not have to tell him what I would prefer. I knew that he knew. I sunk down onto the hard seat, the wood smooth against the back of my bare thighs as the shirt rode up. When he disappeared, I stared at the sun-kissed windows for a moment and then eyed the succulent food displayed before me. There were plump purple grapes and red strawberries, their colors vibrant and dotted with water droplets from being freshly washed. The pastries oozed with white cheese. My stomach rumbled from the sweet smell. "For you." Vincente set a glass of red liquid in front of me, and I licked my lips. He sat opposite me, his hand wrapped around his own glass. He gestured to the tray. "Please." I was tempted to shovel as much as I could into my mouth like a starving child, but my manners got the better of me. Instead, I counted to ten in my head and picked up a strawberry. I rested the heel of one barefoot on the rail of the chair, propping the other up on the seat in front of me. Slowly, I lifted the tip of the berry to my mouth and licked at it. My eyes rose to meet Vincente's, and I gasped softly as I saw the smoldering look in his own eyes. His black hair was dishelved, framing his chiseled face. Just-had-sex hair was a good look on him. I bit into the piece of fruit, refraining from moaning. I had never had such a juicy strawberry before. My tongue darted out to catch the juice before it dribbled down my chin. I heard Vincente's audible moan but did not react myself. I finished off the berry with two more bites and then reached for my glass. I did moan then, relishing the thick but smooth liquid. He had told me it wasn't wine, but I couldn't describe it as anything but. Although, while wine normally dried out my mouth, I couldn't get enough of whatever this concoction was. It was as if my body craved it. Needed it. He watched, occasionally sipping from his own glass as I ate half of the fruit. I was relieved when he popped a couple of grapes into his mouth, knowing that at least the man ate like a human. Then I imagined his tongue pressing the fruit against the top of his mouth until it gushed juice. I groaned softly at the erotic image and shifted in my seat. It wasn't until I was pulling apart a pastry, pressing small clumps between my lips, before he spoke again. "I realize that you might be in a state of shock, my love." He lifted his glass to his lips once again, his dark eyes watching me over the rim as he sipped. "I do not want you to be afraid." I gulped then, lowering my eyes to my hands. I saw them shaking. I did not want to think. I was happy living in denial for the past thirty minutes or so. I was at war with accepting whatever was happening to me and wanting to run screaming out of this house. When I lifted my gaze again, it wasn't to meet his. Instead, I looked out into the main room through the wide doorway. From where I sat, I could see the edge of the double doors leading out of his private quarters on the third floor. I could see the black keypad on the wall adjacent to it. My gut clenched, knowing that I was stuck. While I didn't think I was being held prisoner, I couldn't very easily walk out the door, either. Without him saying it, I could feel the question—the proposal—floating in the silence between us. Would I stay with him? Would I allow him to explain just what had happened last night? I finished my wine but did not put the glass down. I cupped it in both hands, holding the rim between my lip, sucking on it absentmindedly. I did not believe in vampires and werewolves and those sort of fantastical things. But just because I did not believe in them did not mean that they didn't exist. I had seen Vincente's cock. I had seen the serpent's head. I had felt it inside me. I may not believe it, but it was still true. "Danae?" His voice was soft. Patient. I slowly turned back to him and blinked away fresh tears. I let out a shuddering breath and then stood on wobbly legs. When he looked up at me, his eyes questioning, I held out my hand. He took it, squeezed it, and followed me. As we walked down the hallway back to the bedroom, I prayed that I was making the right choice. Everything balanced on my decision to go forward with this. I was mush inside, but on the outside, I was trying so hard to stay calm...and upright. To reassure myself that I wouldn't want someone like Vincente against me. That he was probably right: I was safe with him. At the doorway, I paused, my eyes darting from the mess of blankets and sheets on the bed to the arrangement of burnt out candles. I sighed heavily, and my breath shook again on the intake. Vincente turned me back toward him. "Why don't you use the lavatory again, my love? Collect yourself. I will come get you." I could only nod. He placed a kiss on my forehead, and I wandered down the hall again in a daze. I had used the restroom twice in the last twenty-four hours. It wasn't hard to find, but it seemed to take forever before I got there. I used the facilities and then stood in front of the sink with the faucet on. My reflection in the gilded mirror looked nothing like me. I felt a mess, but she looked beautiful with rosy cheeks. Dark hair tousled and cascading over the shoulders of a white button-up shirt with the collar opened to reveal the swell of cleavage. Lips swollen from too much kissing. Eyes bright wide with excitement but also glossy with desire. Who was that woman? I was still standing there when I heard a knock on the door and it opened slowly. In the mirror, I watched Vincente step into the room and smile at me. I smiled back, and it didn't feel forced. I shut off the water and turned around. "Danae?" He held out his hand to me, and I met him halfway across the floor. Somehow I found my voice and said, "I'm good." "Good." He lifted my hand to his lips where he brushed a kiss across my knuckles. My knees buckled, which I thought was a good sign. The man still turned me on. He led the way back toward the bedroom. When we paused in the doorway this time, I let out a soft gasp. While I had been a nervous ninny in the bathroom, he had changed the sheets—red silk now—and the candles—sandalwood if my sense of smell was correct. "Come, my love." He pressed his hand to the small of my back and urged me to the side of the bed. There, he gently took my arm and turned me to face him. I barely took a breath before he lowered his mouth to capture mine. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the feeling of his lips pressing against mine, his tongue darting out to taste me. I gripped his upper arms for support, but he moved my hands up to his shoulders so he could wrap himself around me, pulling me closer. My fingers continued the ascent on their own volition, wanting to weave through his hair. He moaned in response and helped me sit and then lie down. My hips arched up involuntarily, and he chuckled. "I know, Danae. I know." I whimpered, licking at my lips, aching for more of his kisses. I started to speak but found it difficult. I cleared my throat and tried again. "The handcuffs. Do you have them handy?" He raised one dark eyebrow, the corner of his mouth rising as well. "Of course." I locked my eyes on him. "I want you to secure me first. Then I want you to explain. Everything. I want to understand..." He studied me for a moment and then nodded. "As you wish." He opened a drawer on the bedside table and removed the fur-lined cuffs that I had found myself bound with last night after our initial rendezvous. I took a deep breath and then raised my arms above my head, resting them on the pillow so they were comfortable. He reached above me. I heard the soft rattle of the chains that were secured to hooks in the headboard. Silently, he cuffed each wrist, snapping a tiny lock through the narrow chain and a metal loop on the cuff. When he was finished, he laced his fingers through mine, squeezing my hands lightly as he leaned down to kiss me. And then he sat back, his right hip touching my left. He laid his left hand in his lap. His right rested casually on my thigh. "Where shall I begin?" I gulped. "Um, don't touch me. Please." His eyes darkened with a mixture of concern and confusion. "Danae?" "I can't think when you're touching me, and I need every cell in my brain functioning right now." I slowly blew out my breath, clenching and flexing my fingers, mentally preparing myself. "Understood." His eyes glimmered as a smile teased at the corners of his mouth. And what a delicious mouth it was. I wanted to run my tongue all over it. He removed his hand, waiting for my lead. Worlds Apart Ch. 02 I instantly missed the skin-on-skin contact and cursed myself, but I found comfort in the fact that he did not move away entirely. The pressure of his leg against mine gave me the courage to continue. "Who are you?" He smiled fully then, clasping his hands in his lap. "My name is Vincente Renard." I swallowed. "What are you?" "I am a dyson." The immediate image in my head was of the TV commercials for the popular vacuum cleaner. Especially the claim that they were known for continual, optimum sucking power due to their design. The analogy was eerie. I shuddered from the thought. "And what is a dyson?" His smile faded a little, his hands clenching in his lap. "It is a reptilian-human hybrid." I recalled the change in the temperature of his skin at the party yesterday. A memory of a National Geographic special flashed in my head about how snakes and other reptiles regulated their body heat by their environment. So he must be cold-blooded, therefore cold to the touch. But by touching me, a warm-blooded human, his own temperature increased. "So, the um..." I tilted my chin down and glanced at his lap. I choked back a moan when his cock moved beneath his pants in response. As if it had a mind of its own and could hear me and understand my unspoken question. Vincente chuckled. "He likes you. Very much." "He?" I couldn't breathe for a moment. I closed my eyes and swallowed heavily. Vincente just laughed again. When I felt his hand caressing the top of my thigh, pushing the edge of the shirt up, I opened my eyes. He was watching me intently, the blue of his eyes like the ocean under the moonlight. I stumbled through my next question, my face so hot from blushing I thought I must have a fever. Somehow, I managed to ask him how it worked...if my analysis of what had happened after he slid his cock into me had been accurate. "Yes, Danae. Stroking stimulates him. Prepares him. Just like any human phallus." I snorted. "Except yours has a fucking snake for a head." His smile faltered again, his eyes darkening. He didn't say anything more, and his hand stilled, hidden beneath the shirt's hem. I gulped, wishing he would move his hand a little higher—that I hadn't pissed him off—but also praying he wouldn't do it just yet. I had more questions to ask. "I can, however, perform in the usual, human way when I so desire. I can please a woman either way. I think you would agree." I nodded slowly, my eyes dropping to his waist. I found myself licking my lips as I remembered just how much pleasure he had given me since we'd entered his private quarters. Then something else occurred to me. "So you use the snake-method only for reproduction? You can control whether or not you get a woman pregnant?" His smiled widened and the light returned to his beautiful eyes. "Yes. It is the perfect...what is the word you use? Birth control?" Except he's in control of when to use it. I kept my mouth shut and tried to refocus. It did not help that he moved his hand again, inward but not upward. My lower muscles contracted in anticipation. I silently begged him to hold off a few more minutes. "Was there anything else, Danae? I can feel your heat against the back of my fingers. I so desire to touch it. Taste it." He proceeded to flick his tongue out seductively to demonstrate. I groaned and reigned in my passion. "How old are you?" "I was born in 1542." I quickly did the math. He looked pretty damn good for 470 years old. I gulped again, trying to wrap my mind around that fact. "Where are you from?" "France. Marseille to be exact. My father was a viscount. A title of nobility. He died in a duel." "I'm sorry to hear that." I stretched, or as much as I could being confined as I was. "So does that make you the Viscount Renard now?" "Yes, but it does not mean as much now as it did then. Time changes perceptions. Rulers. Laws." "Was your father...or your mother...a dyson?" "Only my father. He courted my mother from an early age. My grandparents on my father's side were both dysons, but only my grandfather on my mother's side was one. Both of my grandfathers had known each other well. My maternal grandmother was a human. She accepted her fate, such as did my mother. They knew nothing of our kind until their wedding night, yet they both came to embrace it. They were much like you, Danae. Beautiful. Provocative. Courageous." I closed my eyes for a moment. This conversation had gotten stranger by the minute. I wanted to ask how a female dyson differed from a male, but I had more pressing questions. "Is your mother still alive? Do you have any siblings?" "Alas, the answer to both questions is no." "So I will eventually die, too." "Not necessarily. My mother died of a broken heart shortly after I was born. Had my father survived the duel—which he fought to protect her honor—she would have lived as long as he did. He was her life-force. As long as he lives, so does she. My father's parents raised me. They still reside in France." So my own fate rested on Vincente's. "Are there many dysons?" He tilted his head back and forth. "Not as many as there used to be. It is in our nature to reproduce. It not only carries on our lineage, but it also revitalizes the parents. When one cannot find a mate to copulate with...well, it is true what your culture claims." He smirked then. "Without it, you will die." My mind was full. I no longer wanted to think. I only wanted to feel. But I had one question left. And for some reason, it was the hardest one to ask. "The wine. Or non-wine. What is it, really?" He didn't answer immediately, as if considering my question. Why answer the other ones so candidly but not this one? I felt his thick finger press up and between my swollen labia, rubbing against my clit. I screamed, my body arching of its own freewill, my wrists pulling on their restraints. "Stop it! If you keep doing that, I won't be able to think!" He ignored me and pressed his finger against me again, flicking it quickly a couple of times, his thumb stroking the inside of my thigh. I wondered if he had been a rebellious child. This time, I bared down, clamping my thighs around his wrist. Still, he teased me. I grunted, trying to keep my composure a little while longer. "Tell me. Tell me what I was drinking." "You are correct. It is partly wine. It is from my country and is quite vintage." His hand stilled. I sighed from the instant—if only momentary—relief. "And what is the other part? Tell me and then I will let you have your way with me. I just want to know." He slowly raised his eyes to mine. They were as dark as midnight now, and I swear I could see into his soul. If he even had one. He turned his body toward me and then, using both hands, he easily spread my thighs as though they were made of silk, not flesh and bone. My pussy throbbed from his absence and the cool brush of air against it. I inhaled deeply, taking in the mixture of sandalwood, his musk, and my own arousal. My arms stiffened above my head, and I held my breath. "It is the perfect cocktail that stimulates the libido. In me, it only invigorates. In you, it heightens the arousal. Increases the potential for conception. The more you drink, the stronger the result." I growled. "Damn it! What is it?" "My blood." I didn't even have a chance to process his words. He leaned down and sucked my clitoris into his mouth, his tongue flickering away like a candle's flame. At the same time, he thrust two fingers deep inside of me. I screamed, coming so hard I saw stars and had to close my eyes. And then I blacked out. ### My dreams revolved around me and a man floating in an endless sea of pleasure. I don't recall his face, but I could feel his cock sliding in and out of me ever so slowly as if it were real. The frustrating part was, I never climaxed. It would build and build and build, and just when I thought I was finally going to fall over the edge, something pulled me from my sleep. But I never came fully awake, and I never stayed awake long. Exhaustion always pulled me back under, usually to a black emptiness for a while, and then another dream would begin. It was always sex, but sometimes it was missionary, doggy-style, or cowgirl; other times, it was oral, both for him and I. I had had dreams similar to this most of my adult life. I would wake up feeling like I had really been having sex but not reaching orgasm. The difference this time was, I could remember every elicit detail, not just bits and pieces. At one point when I woke up, I heard my own whimpers and cries echoing in my head. I so wanted to find release. It was driving me insane. I forced my eyes open, and I saw my body practically folded in half, my hips raised so that I was resting on my upper back. I could feel pillows beneath my back and behind my head, supporting me. Before me knelt a perfect specimen of a man, his large hands cupped beneath my knees, holding my thighs apart. His thumbs stroked back and forth against my skin. At the same leisurely pace, I felt him stroking his cock in and out of my pussy. Instead of looking up to his face, my eyes trailed down his naked torso. Outlining each muscle in his abdomen. Following the engraved V as it led to a dusting of dark curls surrounding the base of his cock. I blinked, shuddering as I saw how thick and long it was. Which wasn't hard to notice since he had only penetrated me with the tip. Only an inch of his cock glided against the most sensitive part of me as he pushed in. I felt him throbbing inside me. There was a gentle tugging when he withdrew as my tight entrance caught on the ridge below the swollen head of his cock. My pelvic muscles contracted around him, trying to pull him further into me. Into where I wanted to be touched. Needed to be touched. Over and over again until I came. Yet his pace did not change, and his pressure on my legs stayed constant. I moaned softly, writhing a little beneath him. I closed my eyes, trying to make myself come with mental images instead. Words and phrases that usually made my body naturally react. But my brain would not function. I was frustrated and unsatisfied, and that just made me more sleepy. It was at the moment that I gave up trying—that I felt defeated—when pleasure rippled across my body. Starting down low and then escalating as it traveled upward, as if someone had tossed a skipping stone into my sensual pool with precision. I cried out, my back arching, my hands straining against something above my head. It was too much. My body shuddered as I felt the man stroking me through my orgasm with the same languid pace. I let the sensation pull me back into the void of sleep. The next time I was drawn back from dreamland, I grunted in despair. I had been giving the mystery man a blow job. And what a fine tool he had, too. It was eight inches of pure virility. I could barely wrap my long, slender fingers around it completely as I breathed on the tip, my tongue teasing the eye, drawing out the salty precum. He was so hard, throbbing in my hand. My jaw almost ached as I slid him between my lips. I sucked and stroked and moaned against the warmth gently thrusting in and out of my mouth. My pussy grew damp, contracting with need. I imagined his cock thrusting in out of those lower lips the same way they were doing now above. I fondled his balls, pressing my fingertip into that sensitive spot between his sac and his asshole. He groaned in response, and I prepared myself to receive his seed. To let it gush down my throat as I swallowed it. But then I woke, mumbling and disoriented. And I was so thirsty. "Here, drink this." The masculine voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it. I knew I wasn't dreaming still because the mystery man never talked, just gave and received pleasure. A hand cupped the back of my neck and lifted my head up. I opened my mouth when I felt the rim of a glass being pressed to my lips. The liquid that trickled into my mouth was warm. Thick. Sweet. Delicious. I instantly felt quenched with one sip. When the glass was empty, I heard myself beg for more. There was a soft chuckle. My head was rested back on the pillow, then I heard the sound of pouring liquid and the clatter of a glass bottle being set on a metal surface. His hand returned, warm and comforting, tilting my head as I was offered more to drink. I finished the second glass and sighed. A thick finger traced my lips, gently inserting itself into my mouth. I licked at it. Closed my lips around it. Sucked on it. Tasted my own juices and moaned. My eyes fluttered open, blinking for a moment to reorient myself. My surroundings slowly came back into focus. The flickering candles creating dancing shadows across the crisp white walls and ceiling. The silk sheets beneath my naked body. The soft cuffs around my wrists and the pillows under my head. I moaned again, turning my head back and forth as I felt something suckling at my right nipple. Pleasure streaked down to my core. "That's it, my love. Relax. Surrender." The voice finally registered, and my hazy brain put a name to this man who was pleasuring me outside of my dreams: the Viscount Vincente Renard. Just the sound of it in my mind made me smile and shudder. It suddenly occurred to me that he was talking to me—clearly— but a tongue was now rasping my nipple. My eyes flew open, and I shrieked as I glanced down. Instead of Vincente's tongue as I had expected, I stared at his cock, pointed at my breast. The serpent's head was positioned over my nipple, the forked tongue brushing against the sensitized peak as it slithered in and out. I watched in partial fear and wonderment. When my body stopped squirming, Vincente moved his cock in small circles, allowing the tongue to trace a similar path over my areola. Moisture pooled between my thighs, and I gasped for breath. I could tell by looking at my breast that it was swollen and heavy with arousal. It ached and I didn't want the twisted, erotic feeling to end. Now it was surreal. Reality seemed like the dream. I watched him move his cock over to my left breast, repeating the same, torturous method. My hands clenched, my wrists straining against the chains that kept me from touching him. Vincente moved over me, sliding a knee between my thighs and pressing up against my throbbing pussy. I moaned in relief. I arched my hips, humping his thigh. He let me continue this way until I felt my orgasm building, and then he pulled away. I opened my mouth to complain. But as I did, my voice died in my throat because he brought his cock up to my lips and rubbed the tip over them. I felt tears in my eyes. I couldn't let that serpent's head enter my mouth. I just couldn't. A strangled cry quickly rose up within me, but all that escaped was a whimper. "Shh, Danae. Close your eyes." I stared at him for a moment, feeling hot tears trickling down my cheeks. And then I obeyed. "Yes, that's a good girl." His voice flowed over me, calming me. I felt him straddle my chest, his knees on either side of my ribs, his thighs pushing my breasts up. "Now don't think. Just feel." I whimpered again but tried to do what he said. He rubbed the tip gently over my lips, outlining my mouth. I was amazed at how soft it was. I had imagined it to be rough and scaly. My tongue automatically darted out to lick it. When he pressed, I opened further. I moaned as he slid into my warm, wet mouth. I tried to imagine it was a real cock. I tasted and smelled his musk as my nose touched his pubic bone. When he pulled back, I moaned again, the combined rough-and-smooth feeling of him grazing against the roof of my mouth sending shivers down my back. Suddenly, I didn't care anymore about who or what he was. To hell with this supernatural sci-fi shit. I wanted to hold him so badly. To stroke him. I wanted to suck his cock. I opened my eyes wide, mumbling. When he didn't withdraw completely, I yanked my head back and to the side. "Unlock me! Please! I have to touch you." I had never seen a man move so fast. I couldn't breathe for a moment when he put all of his weight on my chest as he leaned over me to grab the key off the nightstand. He struggled only once, unable to get the key to turn in the first lock. Then my wrists were free. I don't know if it was adrenaline or the wine or what, but I found strength I never knew I had. I pushed him off of me, flipping him onto his back at the same time. Then I was crouched between his thighs, my hands wrapped around the hot essence of him, stroking and easing him into my mouth. "Danae, stop." Vincente elicited a deep growl and then lifted my head when I didn't obey. "Don't you want me to—" "I do, my love. I do. But I wanted to you to see..." I looked down then at the swollen, rigid flesh enveloped in my long fingers. Saw that it looked like an uncircumcised cock. A human cock. I felt tears form at the corners of my eyes. "How? I don't—" "I can control it, my love." He tilted my chin up so I was staring into the endless depths of his eyes. My heart skipped a beat at the desire I saw there. "When we made love earlier, it was like it is now. I know you don't understand. I know this is difficult. It will take time. But I wanted to you to see that you will not be left wanting. I wanted you to—" "Shh, Vincente. It's okay." And with that, I dipped back down, letting my hair fall over his thighs. I sucked and moaned as he filled me over and over again. When he growled to use my teeth, I gently scraped them against his rigid pole as I withdrew it. I licked around the head, teasing him, enjoying him. I stroked and squeezed his cock, cupping and fondling his balls. Loving the scent of his masculinity as it filled my nostrils. Vincente buried his hands in my hair then, holding my head still even though I continued to stroke with my hands. His own moans mixed with mine as his hips bucked beneath me. His incoherent sounds were music to my ears, filling my head, enflaming my own arousal. "Danae! My god, Danae!" And as he came in my mouth, I suddenly realized how his mother and grandmother must have felt all those years ago. That their passion for their men overcame any differences between them. That in the end, all that really did matter was what they—what we—felt for each other. Even if our love was worlds apart. ~ H