Sweet Desire (Tales of Dystopian Decadence Book 2) (4 page)

“Your father knew what fate they had planned for me, which is why he designed this house. When he showed me the prototype, I thought it was for him and his family, should the Constitutionals lose the war to the Regime. Your father came here, oversaw the building of it – even assembled parts of it with his own hands. It was a labor of love. But, no, it was for me, and by the time I got here, he was gone, hidden on my orders. Well… sort of.” A smile curled his mouth. “I had ordered him here for his protection. He didn’t listen to me, but you should at least know that he is safe.”

“So he’s been alive all these years – twelve whole years now – and never told us?” I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off a sudden chill. Each moment of shock seemed to thrust me into a new emotional and physical extreme. “I was ten when he disappeared, when you… when the president was supposedly executed. Yet all this time you’ve both been alive and safe by working together. Why didn’t anyone tell us?”

“The Regime would have used such information against you,” Nicholas said. He set the teacup on the coffee table, then reached out to rub his hand along my upper arm. It was strange to have him touch me so gently, so comfortingly, reassuring me with his nearness after he had spent the past few weeks trying to maintain his distance from me. “Your lives would have been in danger if the Regime suspected for even a moment that your mother knew anything. But there’s more.”

“Of course there is.” My fingers dug into my arms as another tremor shot through me. Nicholas grimaced and sat down next to me so we were shoulder to shoulder. The heat radiating from his body next to mine was calming, at least, even if his explanation was not.

“I received a message not long before your arrival,” he said. “One of the more influential supporters of the Regime is no longer with us – someone they counted on for a great deal of their funding, not to mention handling quite a bit of their dirty work.”

“So, what does that mean?” Politics and military coups weren’t exactly something I could wrap my head around, even living in a society thrown into turmoil by one.

He put his hands on my shoulders, turning me so our knees touched as I faced him, and I sank a little more into the warmth of his nearness. It felt so good to be close to someone again, to have physical contact with another human. “Mr. DeVille was responsible for carrying out a good many assassinations and other such orders, not to mention providing the majority of the Regime’s financing. You can’t have guns, bombs, and a loyal militia without money, after all. His loss is a crippling blow for the Regime.”

“DeVille?” Scrunching my brow in thought, I searched my memory until it came to me. “Oh no! What about Adette? Is she safe?”

“Who is Adette?”

“Icharus DeVille’s courtesan from the school. She was assigned to him before they sent me here. Oh no, not her…” I shuddered at the thought of something happening to my best friend, someone I loved nearly as much as my own twin sister.

“Violet, it’s alright. It wasn’t Icharus they killed. It was his father. As far as I know, your schoolmate disappeared to parts unknown after Mr. DeVille was assassinated and there have been whispers that she had a hand in it, though nothing confirmed. Icharus assumed his father’s responsibilities and control of his finances.” His hands tightened on my arms. “But Icharus is on our side and undermining the Regime from within, just as they sought to undermine me and the presidents before me until they saw their chance to strike.”

“Our side?”

“The Constitutionals. Now that the Regime is faltering, we’ll give a democracy back to the people.” He spoke with such passion, such conviction, I could see how he had become the darling of the people in the United States.

But it was that conviction that might make a bad situation worse.

“Shit…” I pushed at him, trying to put distance between us. His closeness was disconcerting, to say the least. I wanted to simply curl up against him, but at the same time I had to think about what he was telling me. “The Regime took everything from you. How can you even think about doing this? You’ll start another war when you should just be happy you’re alive!”

“I haven’t been happy these past twenty goddamn years, ever since they killed Lydia and took away everything I worked so hard for! Even when I got the news of DeVille’s death, I didn’t know how to take it. I’ve spent all this time full of hating, sinking deeper and deeper into despair” He pulled me back toward him, his face only inches above mine. “And then you arrived. Dear, sweet, compliant Violet – you never once complained, though I was such a bear to you. And you sang and traipsed around this colorless cabin like a princess in a fairy tale musical with talking animals. You saved my life. How could I not fall in love with you?”

“You’re in love with me?” I squeaked, my body going still in his arms.

His expression said more than words ever could. When he closed the narrow gap between us, I knew I was in for even more of a roller coaster ride. “I tried not to feel it,” he admitted. “I should have sent you back to that blasted school, knowing this wasn’t good for me. But I didn’t have the heart to go back to the way it was before you got here.”

Before I could respond, he clasped his hands around my back and pressed his lips to mine. After a moment, I couldn’t help but respond, return the kiss and lean into him. I had always excelled at lovemaking – at flirting, teasing, kissing, and then kneeling to signal my readiness for anything a man could want. After weeks with Nicholas, I was afraid I would never get to do those things again; never know a man’s touch, sexual pleasure, or love.

Now his arms encircled me and there was no escape; not that I wanted it any longer. A month ago, the unexpectedness of this assignment had overwhelmed me. Now it was a very different feeling of being in over my head – in so deep, so damn deep.

Chapter 5

My life no longer read like a rewrite of a gloomy, classic gothic novel. Instead of the hired help thrust upon an unwilling employer who resented it, yet needed it to open his heart, I was now caught up in a situation that seemed like something out of a pulp fiction magazine:
Danger! Intrigue! Sex!

Well, not the sex part.

Not yet.

Despite Nicholas’ growing affection toward me, we hadn’t tumbled into bed together. This was a decision he left to me, even though I was his submissive, and I appreciated that. As much as I wanted to explore this newfound romance, Nicholas still had his own pain to work through. We had to take things one step at a time and allow ourselves the opportunity to get everything out in the open, so the next morning as we ate our breakfast, I asked one of the many questions I’d pondered for weeks.

“Nicholas?”

“Violet?” His eyes crinkled at the corners now whenever he looked at me. What a difference speaking up and telling me everything had made in his demeanor. It was as if the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders since he finally confessed his past to me, not to mention with the news that the tide might be turning against the Regime. He spoke now of hope for the both of us and hope for a better world for everyone.

“I was wondering where it comes from – the food you have,” I said, smiling back at him.

“Did you ever see your father’s design of the house?”

I shook my head. “I only saw a model of the house, but no notes or actual blueprints. I was very young at the time, so I don’t remember much. He didn’t get into the details of his work and my mother had all of it destroyed so the Regime would not get it. But I remembered the outside of the house, especially the back when I saw it. That’s what gave it away as my father’s work.”

“Well, that makes sense,” he said. “As far as the food, I get it from hydroponics farming.”

“Oh…” I looked down at the scrambled eggs on my plate. “That explains the organic produce and anything wheat-based, but not the animal products.”

“The animal products are all synthetic.”

“Synthetic eggs…” I poked at my breakfast, but I already knew it looked, smelled, and tasted completely normal. I never would have suspected it wasn’t real in the sense that a hen had not laid the eggs. “Are these foods the result of my father’s experiments too?”

“Yes. He wanted to create a completely self-sustaining isolationist environment that allowed people to cultivate anything they could possibly need.”                                       

I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes and asked, “Is that what you do in the basement all day – create food and other items?”

Nicholas grinned at me over the rim of his coffee cup. “Sometimes. Do you want to see what I have down there?”

“Yes please!” I bounced in my chair, before I realized “down there” could have implied anything. To keep my thoughts focused, I said, “Science was never my strong suit – Azure was always better at academics. But I love learning new things anyway.”

He reached across the table and his large hand curled over mine. “You don’t need to love it for my sake.”

“What?” I blinked at him and then burst out laughing. “Oh, no. It’s not that. I don’t feel like I need to like the same things as you. I have a scientist for a father, so of course it fascinates me, even if I don’t understand it.”

“And what about this Azure?”

“She’s the twin sister I told you about.”

“I can’t imagine there being two of you. Your father didn’t really discuss his family with me, though I knew about your existence.” Somehow, he managed to look even more amused – perhaps it was the slight dimple that appeared in his right cheek. All I wanted to do was lean across the table and kiss those smiling lips, but I restrained myself.

“She’s my fraternal twin, remember? We don’t look exactly alike, but close enough.”

“Still, sounds like trouble to me – two beautiful ladies in one family.” He winked at me and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “Well isn’t that cute,” he said with a chuckle. “She blushes.”

“Stop that,” I said, aware my voice was a slow drawl as I pressed my hands to my cheeks. That was one of my nervous habits and I hated it. Azure had no such quirks. She was perfect. I was a mess.

He stood, leaned forward, and kissed me, his lips warm and soft on mine. With that, the heat in my face spread elsewhere. My chest constricted as a memory resurfaced.

“What is love like?” I asked.

Azure kept her gaze averted, focused on some distant thing. “It feels like everything. You can’t go on without them. You spend every moment wanting to be together. When you are together, you want time to stand still.” She bowed her head and her voice broke. “Why couldn’t it just stand the fuck still?”

“Violet?” Nicholas put his hand on my temple and traced my hairline.

Looking into his eyes, I realized I now knew exactly what Azure had been describing to me only a few years ago, before we went to the school, before we became entangled in any contractual relationships or strange anti-government schemes.

I was in love.

All I could say was, “Oh shit…”

~****~

Kisses turned into touches. Housework turned into service. And the tundra turned into my own personal wonderland. For a job well done, Nicholas would take me in his arms and say, “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” When he was displeased – which was rare, but did happen at times – he would sigh and shake his head at me. His disappointment was heartbreaking and I never made the same mistake twice. I wanted to serve, to submit, and to surrender completely to him and the relationship that was growing between us.

Nicholas never did show me the extensive basement laboratory my father had created. He often tried to explain it over dinner and then when we rose from our chairs to go see it, we would get distracted with all that kissing. Besides, I didn’t understand most of the scientific principles behind everything. All I got was that Nicholas somehow made many things out of just a few resources, thanks to my father’s work. That, and he thought I was cute when I looked confused.

I also didn’t understand how he had lived so long without a woman’s touch. Twenty years without sex would drive me crazy, yet he managed to restrain himself.

For now.

I really wished he wouldn’t…

Over the next week, while I waited for him to come to terms with his own desire, I filled the house with more soft, colorful textures and music. Nicholas was more present than he had been in those first few weeks. He tinkered with small electronic devices in the living room or the kitchen, working on his projects alongside me as I cooked, washed dishes, knit, or stitched. When he was near me, he seemed to have to touch me at all times. His presence was simultaneously comforting and arousing, and it was driving me crazy for him.

Arousal was not a foreign sensation for me, but the emotional feeling coupled with it was. At St. Eden’s, they trained us in sexual servitude, flirtation, and using romance for political maneuvering. Here, though, I felt something I’d never felt before with another person. My desire to please him was not just on an intimate level, but on all levels.

My mind went to Azure. As usual, I wished I could turn to my somewhat more experienced sister for answers. Why did I always have to rely on others for, well, everything?

“Violet?”

“Hmm?” I looked up at him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” I returned my gaze to the work in my lap. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re just sitting there with yarn in your lap, doing nothing.”

“Oh.” When I took a breath, I realized he was right. The yarn was somewhat unraveled and the needles rested loosely in either hand, but I hadn’t even bothered casting on to start my next project. “Um, you’re distracting me.” He was. Every thought in my head was of him – a replay of the fantasies I’d been having about him kissing me elsewhere, besides my lips, about those kisses leading to something much more…

“Am I?”

His response startled me from my wandering thoughts, but before I could draw breath he pulled me into his arms. His lips pressed against mine with such hunger, I felt my heartbeat pick up a rapid pace. Could he have been wishing for the same things, too? He was a man – of course he was thinking about sex, especially after two long, brutal decades without it. I wanted to laugh at myself. These past few weeks, I’d held off from giving any indication that I wanted it, because I had to be sure he was over the pain of losing his wife, that he wouldn’t feel guilt over deepening our growing bond.

But perhaps he’d been the one holding back – doing his best to reinvent our relationship and giving me space to learn to trust him.

My knitting fell to the floor as I reached up to grasp his arms, my fingers curling into those strong, wiry biceps I’d imagined on either side of me while he thrust into me... When I moaned into his mouth, he swept me onto his lap.
Yes…
He thrust his tongue past my lips, feeding on that moan, encouraging me to fall deeper with his insistent touch.

When the kiss ended, we stayed motionless, foreheads pressed together, and little frantic pants of breath mingling. I wanted to stay just like this, in the moment, forever.

“Why did she send me here?” I whispered, my eyes on his.

“Because she knew I needed you.” His grip on me tightened. “I was lost without you. I was half-dead. You brought me hope. You’ve given me a reason to live and to keep on fighting for what’s right.”

I reached up and tentatively laid my fingers against the roughness of the hair on his jaw. “Hope.”

“I didn’t even have that before you arrived. Now I want you never to leave.” As he spoke, he shifted me beneath him, his hand sliding under my buttocks to position me under his lanky body. “These cushions you made were a damn good idea after all,” he growled before lowering his lips to my neck.

I giggled and squirmed as his hand cupped my backside and his knee pressed between my legs. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“What does it feel like I’m doing?” His other hand drifted from my arm to my breast and I gasped at the contact.

His closeness was intoxicating and I craved more of his warmth. Wrapping my arms around him, I nestled into his embrace, inviting his touch. He made a low, deep sound at that and his hands moved up to tangle in my curls as he moved his hungry mouth along my throat.

“You sweet, beautiful girl.” His lips crushed against mine once more and I felt it then – that spark I had always known could, and always hoped would, exist between me and another.

“Nicholas,” I whispered when he broke the kiss. His fingers traced my lips and I blinked up at him. “This can’t be real.”

“It is very real.”

“Then let’s stay like this.”

He nodded and tugged me closer. “Let’s,” he agreed before returning his mouth to my flesh. Every kiss, every little lick, every nibble on my skin made me feel cherished and very much desired. Then he said, “Not here. We’re going to do this upstairs in a proper bed.” He rose and pulled me to my feet to lead me up the stairs. I followed blindly, still reeling from his kisses.

We burst through the door and quite literally tumbled onto his bed as we reached for one another again. I plucked at his shirt, eager to get to the source of the warmth beneath the fabric. He accommodated me by removing it, then worked apart the buttons of my dress. It didn’t take long for me to withdraw my arms from the sleeves and shimmy the garment down over my hips.

As soon as it was on the floor, he gathered me in his arms again and kissed me down my neck, along each shoulder, and then across my breasts. His warm breaths made me sigh with pleasure and I reached for him to draw him up for another shared kiss. His tongue delved into my mouth, and I reveled in the sensation of us tasting one another.

He ran one of his fingertips across my mouth as he looked down at me. “It’s been so long since I…” He swallowed. It was the first time I had ever seen him nervous. “I’m not sure how long this will last,” he finished, his brows drawing together. “As much as I just want to throw you against the wall and fuck you as hard as I can–”

“One thing at a time,” I whispered as I placed my hands on either side of his face. “It’s alright if it doesn’t last very long. We can always do this again, if you want. And I like the idea of doing it against the wall next time.”

He groaned against my temple when my hands drifted to his waist. He was lean, more scientist than athlete, but years of his self-sustaining lifestyle had given him hard muscle. I swept my fingers over his pelvis and into his denim jeans, urging them down over his hipbones. Knowing how much he probably needed this, I just couldn’t wait to have him.

“I don’t want to go too fast,” he growled, then gasped when my touch found its mark, my hand closing around the proof of his desire for me. “Violet,” he said with a groan.

“Nicholas, you need this.” Even though I was the submissive, I knew I had to lead him. It was something I was trained to do – to give someone what they truly needed, even if they didn’t realize their own need. The waistband of his boxers was no match for my insistent fingers, which now stroked his erection beneath the soft fabric. It was rock hard and my hand barely closed around the throbbing length when I grasped him again. I had a feeling he hadn’t even given himself release in all these years, and who was I to blame him for that? No, my role was to coax and lead and pleasure and relieve him. Only then could he give in to the wild passion he was so afraid to subject me to.