Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Closer ❯ I Want to F*ck You Like an Animal ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: You know I don't own it!

Warning: Another day, another lemon

Closer

Chapter 3: I Want to Fuck You Like an Animal

~~*I want to fuck you like an animal

I want to feel you from the inside

I want to fuck you like an animal*~~

Bulma moaned as she stretched out her sore limbs. A bright stream of sunlight filtered through the lacy curtains of her window, but she decided to ignore it and buried her face in her pillow. Just five more minutes, that was all she needed. Five more minutes before getting up and starting a brand new day.

She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. After leaving Vegeta she had returned to her own, lonely bed where she had tossed and turned for an hour before giving up and walking out onto her private balcony. She had sighed and stared up at the gentle silver light of the full moon-someone must have wished it back with the Dragonballs after it had been destroyed-and wondered what would happen next.

Her entire body grew warm when she thought of Vegeta; her cheeks flushed, her fingers shook, and her heartbeat quickened. Was this love? She'd never felt anything like this before, not even with Yamcha. Although she had to admit that she was sexually attracted to the short Saiyan, she couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it. Her thoughts about him weren't just horny; they were tender, too.

The blaring of her alarm clock awoke her from her reminiscences, bringing her back to reality as her hand shot out and smacked the damn appliance off the nightstand to the ground below where it shattered, batteries and shards of broken plastic flying across her bedroom floor.

She moaned again, sleep still wrapped around her like a heavy blanket as she pushed herself up and crawled to the foot of the bed, hopping off and padding to her room's adjacent bathroom. The last thing she needed right now was to step on a sharp piece of her broken clock and need to spend the morning down in Capsule Corp's medical wing.

She cringed at the sight of her own face as she looked in the mirror. She was hideous this morning! Her face was pale, her eyes puffy, her hair mussed and tangled. She would have thought that she'd look and feel good-no, great-the morning after she finally managed to crack that Saiyan's shell and spend a passionate night with him in his bed. Instead, she looked awful and felt worse.

It took her almost an hour to return to her beautiful self, but a long, hot shower and loads of makeup did their duty and had her glowing with pride at her own appearance when she had finished her morning ritual.

"Bulma," she told her mirror self with a wink, "You're one hot girl!"

Her confidence had returned alongside her beauty. How dare that Saiyan misfit treat her like trash? She was Bulma Briefs! She deserved much better than him. Of course she wasn't in love with him. Her feelings for him were merely a temporary infatuation that had blinded her to the realities of his asshole personality. But no more! She'd take what happened last night as a one-night stand and stop mooning over him like a love-sick teenager. She had better things to do with her time-like finding her true love.

She literally skipped down the stairs, whistling, and entered the kitchen. It was her job to make breakfast for the sulky Saiyan Prince when her mother wasn't around. Normally she would have had the cook do it, since she wasn't particularly fond of "hands on" tasks such as cooking, but all of the Briefs' domestic employees were terrified of Vegeta, and refused to have anything to do with him-which left all the chores involved with taking care of the prince up to Bulma.

She hummed to herself as she opened the large, stainless-steel refrigerator and started piling its contents on the counter. Six dozen eggs, five packages of bacon, two gallons of milk. She whipped out a package of sliced bread and filled each slot of the twenty-four slice capacity toaster, which her father had made especially for their Saiyan houseguest. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up into the cupboards above the stove, she pulled down three boxes of Wheaties-she could tell from his approving grunts that Vegeta especially liked the ones with Tiger Woods on the front-and set them on the counter.

Or rather, she attempted to set them on the counter. In reality, she lost her balance and stumbled, falling on her butt as the contents of her arms flew across the room and burst, spreading golden-brown flakes across the black-and-white tiled kitchen floor.

Bulma heaved a long sigh and put her head in her hands for a moment, trying to ignore the pain that jolted through her butt. Dammit! She had almost really believed that today would be good. She had actually managed to fool herself into thinking that she wasn't in love with the bastard she'd slept with last night. And here she was, clumsily tripping on her own kitchen floor, crying over a couple of spilled boxes of Wheaties.

It wasn't fair, dammit!

She took a few deep breaths, sniffling pathetically as she tried to quell the tears and calm her blazing temper. She couldn't just blow up, not now. She had to stay strong, to pretend like there was nothing wrong when Vegeta came down to breakfast. To pretend that she was over him, and completely ready to move on. If he cared about her at all, surely the thought of her getting over him would make him do something, anything, to keep her with him.

But did he care for her? She thought he did; little Gohan had mentioned once, blushing, that Vegeta had referred to her as `gorgeous' back on Namek. Bulma had just blinked and stared at Goku's son-surely he was joking, or at least making it up? But no, Gohan had been completely sure. He hadn't even known her, and already he had thought of her as gorgeous! Even though she knew that she was extremely beautiful for an earth woman, it had still warmed her heart to think of him saying that. Especially when he made sure only to insult her to her face.

But last night she had discovered that he was a virgin. Vegeta, a virgin? It made sense, in a twisted way. He had spent his whole life, since childhood, underneath the hand of Freeza. He had been little more than a slave. She had no doubt that Freeza, cruel as he was, would take great pleasure in denying sexual release to his slaves. He probably would have kept poor Vegeta a virgin forever if he hadn't died at the hands of Goku!

She smiled to herself, the tears gone. That was why he'd told her to go away last night. It must be! He was a virgin, and she had unknowingly taken that from him. He probably thought that her intentions were purely predatory, purely sexual, that she didn't love him.

But she did.

Now all she had to do was prove it to him and get back in his bed-or get him in hers.

She grinned. For a woman as beautiful and intelligent as herself, that would be no problem at all!

Confident in her own abilities once more, Bulma stood up, brushed herself off, and stepped carefully over the scattered breakfast cereal to the small closet in the corner, grabbing a broom and dustpan. She placed the dustpan on the counter and went to work sweeping the mess on the floor, enjoying the feel of the broom's cool, metal handle in her grip.

She started humming to herself again as she swept all the little crunchy flakes into a neat pile. Just as she reached out her arm to grab the dustpan so that she could sweep all the flakes into it and dump them in the garbage can, an arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back against a rock hard wall of solid muscle as another hand shot out to take the broom from her weak grasp.

Bulma gasped. "V-Vegeta!" she exclaimed, surprised by his sudden entrance. "What are you doing here?" She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against his shoulder. She could smell the sweat dripping from his body, and feel it soaking through her shirt. He must have just come in from training-but why sneak up on her this? Why not sit at the table like he usually did, scowling, and demanding to know where his breakfast was?

Something in her chest leapt with joy-this must be his way of apologizing for his surliness last night! He must have realized that her feelings for him ran deeper than simple lust-and he had come here this morning to let her know that his did, as well. She nearly laughed out loud with the success of her love life. She couldn't believe this was happening!

His lips descended to her ear. He gently took the lobe between his teeth, nibbling. Bulma shivered against him and felt the arm around her waist crawling up beneath her shirt. His hand cupped her breast, his thumb flicking across the nipple, and Bulma let out a soft moan of pleasure. She eyed the counter-he could easily knock everything off with a single sweep of his arm, sit her on the edge of the counter, and have her right there.

Would he do it?

He chuckled against her ear as though he knew exactly what she was thinking-and was determined to make his actions counter her thoughts.

"Foolish woman," he chided softly as the hand holding the broom laid it against the counter and moved to the fly of her shorts, unbuttoning, unzipping, and finally pulling them down along with her pink panties. "What do you think I'm doing here?"

Her panties and shorts rested just above her knees; his hand dove into her center, his fingers gaining eager access.

"Vegeta!" she cried out his name as he thrust his fingers inside her. He began with a single digit, his middle finger, sliding in and out of her slick passage. She squirmed against him, but the arm that lay across her chest prevented her from moving, and his other hand squeezed her breast in punishment for her writhing. He deftly added another finger to the mix and soon had her moaning and quivering in his arms, unable to think or to move. When he added a third finger to the other two, Bulma was completely lost to his ministrations.

Just as her orgasm neared and her body prepared itself for release, his fingers disappeared. She gasped at the loss as her climax fell away; she had been so close! He had to have known that she was close. Why did he pull away? Why did he deny her the same glory she had given him last night?

She let out a soft sob; in spite of his cruelty, she was still aroused.

But before she could say anything, she felt something cool against the heated flesh of her inner thigh. Looking down, she saw the metal handle of the broom brushing lightly against her skin, rising. She gasped. He wouldn't!

He did.

Vegeta maneuvered the cold handle of the industrial-strength broom up to her entrance. She tried to turn her head to look at him, to beg him to stop, but somehow her eyes were locked on the broom; her head refused to move; her body wanted this.

He thrust the cold, metal handle inside her hot, wet sheath.

She had never thought that something so unexpected could feel so right. He controlled the thrust of the broom, starting it out at a slow pace, moving in and out of her passage. Bulma quivered and relaxed her body, letting him support her; the pleasure was intense. The coolness of the metal against the heat of her inner core only added to the swirling sensations within her that built once more towards their inevitable peak.

She could only hope that he would let her reach that peak this time.

"Vegeta," she moaned.

"Hush, Woman," he replied, his voice husky. She felt his hardness pressing against her bare bottom through the restriction of his spandex. She tried rubbing herself against him, but his arm tightened around her, and he twisted the broom inside her, sending waves of pleasure crashing throughout her body.

"Stupid Woman," Vegeta crooned. "You've earned your release."

The broom's thrust were faster, deeper, harder; in moments her climax blazed to life before her, engulfing her in an endless stream of pure pleasure, bathing her in the glowing light of complete and utter bliss.

When she descended from her peak, the broom handle no longer lay inside her. Vegeta pressed it to her lips, urging her to suck her own juices from the phallic-shaped handle. His hold across her waist had loosened, and she turned to him. Her eyes met his as she took the tip of the broom in her mouth and sucked upon it. Her hands rose to fondle her own breasts, pushing up her shirt and bra. She cupped the large mounds, her fingers stroking her own nipples as he watched, transfixed. She moaned around the cool metal, and one of her hands reached out to brush his quivering manhood beneath the spandex.

Vegeta growled and took the broom from her mouth. His hand cupped the back of her head and brought it towards him, his own lips descending upon hers for a voracious kiss. He plundered her soft, willing mouth, then drew himself back and pushed her down onto her knees.

Bulma eagerly pulled down his spandex shorts and went to work on his turgid length, her mouth closing around his magnificent shaft intent upon giving him more pleasure than he had ever known.

Vegeta gasped above her, his hand still cupping her head, stroking her hair and fondling her ear as her blue head bobbed up and down between his legs. She felt something cool pressing into the cleft between her butt cheeks and gasped around his manhood as the broom handle, controlled by Vegeta, entered her from behind.

The movements on both ends of her body were simultaneous; synchronized. As the very tip of Vegeta's engorged member touched the back of her throat, so too did the tip of the broom touch the deepest part of her. As her mouth retreated until just the head remained, the broom retreated to the portal of her domain.

These movements continued for several minutes, paces heightening, until with a strangled moan Vegeta let himself spill inside her mouth, and Bulma felt another release take hold of her body as she swallowed his essence.

Afterwards, Bulma lay sprawled on the floor, amidst the crushed golden powder that had once been Wheaties flakes, her panties and shorts still in place around her knees, holding the broom lovingly against her chest. She gazed over at Vegeta who took but a few deep breaths to recover from his release before pulling up his spandex shorts and glaring at her.

"Make my breakfast, Woman," he growled, yanking her up from the ground and glaring at her. "Now."

Without another word he stalked off in the general direction of the gravity room, supposedly to get some more training in before breakfast.

Bulma pouted and glared after his retreating, muscular back. Then, with a discontented sigh, she straightened her clothes and returned to the task of sweeping before she made breakfast for her favorite Saiyan Prince.

So much for love.

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A/N: Looks like someone's sending mixed messages! And … a broom?!

Next Chapter: Maybe it's time we see Vegeta's side of things, so that we can understand just what drives this sadistic bad boy … before things start to REALLY heat up for our favorite couple! ^.~

Love, Tina