Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sinful Caress ❯ Dark Propositon ( Chapter 1 )

Hey there people! Guess what? I have written a new fanfic! Your probably grumbling about why I have started a new one when I haven't finished my old one.

"This was a big mistake."

"Have I been bad these past few days? Was I so bad now that you think this was a mistake?" A voice with the slight accent asked her with a light chuckle. The owner of that voice stood. All six-foot-three of his muscled frame and he walked over to wrap his arms around the small female that was standing at the bar, pouring herself a glass of wine.

"You weren't bad. In fact, it was the best sex I have ever had! But you know what I mean. I told you that I am married, and if the press were to ever find out, my husband's career would go down the drain. Not to mention our family."

"Bulma, do not worry about that now, love. Let me treat you the way you deserve," he whispered as he leaned over to run his hot lips against the paleness of her neck.

She had only met him a few days ago, yet she loved the way he said her name. He had a slight French accent to his voice, and it made him sound incredibly sexy. And the way he made love to her whenever he had the energy, which was always whenever they met, made her mouth dry just by thinking about it.

"Kakarot," she whispered, her voice sounding breathy. His hands were sinking into her robes, one going to her waist to undo the sash, then he trailed his hand down her body. Bulma set the glass of wine down before it fell from her shaky hands, and threw her head back against his large chest as his fingers played her body like a harp. "Kami!" she panted in desire.

"I want you Bulma," Kakarot said as kneaded her breast and ran his tongue in a wet line against her shoulder. "Tell me what you want."

Bulma moaned with the sensations of his enticing touch, and couldn't bring the words out. All of a sudden, he slipped off her robe completely and picked her up, walking her the short distance towards the disheveled bed. He threw her down on her stomach and lifted her hips, while one of his hands still played with her.

Kakarot positioned himself behind her and leaned over her, running his tongue up her back, and reaching over with his free hand to turn her face for a fierce kiss. "Tell me how you want it," he whispered raggedly, seeing and feeling the way she was reacting to his touch.

"Hard," Bulma groaned loudly, feeling a tremor of her incoming release. "I want it hard!" she called as she felt him rub his hardness against her.

"As you wish," Kakarot growled before he moved back up, pressing against her. He reared back and with a mighty thrust entered her.

Bulma screamed out in ecstasy, her back arching as he stretched her body with his stiff length. Then he started to move, the first strokes were mild enough, but then he gave her exactly what she had asked for. He slammed into her harder, his hands on her hips to keep her still as she tried to move against him.

He couldn't believe the passion encased in this small woman. She was beautiful, wild and unappreciated by that fool of her husband. Well, he'd give her the pleasure of her life, he thought as he allowed himself a pace that he had not used in any of those past few days.

Kakarot gave Bulma the ride of her life, and when she came, she did it screaming, shuddering as she spasmed around him. Her release shooting through her whole body in a shuddering rush. She had been so caught up in her pleasure, that she never heard or felt when he came, calling out his pleasure.

They lay in a tangled heap on the bed, breathing hard and panting against each other, as he wrapped his arms around her slim body and kissed her sweaty shoulder. "That-that was incredible," Bulma said breathlessly.

"Oui," Kakarot said as he ran his fingers down her spine, watching in satisfaction as she shivered.

That was another thing she liked about him, Bulma thought, that he sometimes let a few French words slip into the way he talked. He had grown up in France, but his parents were born in Japan, so he had adopted the language and the accent of France when he had been there for the most part of twenty years.

Kakarot ran his tongue over the line of her jaw, and tasted her skin, interrupting her thoughts. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

Bulma sighed and ran a slim hand over the handsome features of his face. He had thick eyebrows over angular, black eyes. He had a sharp nose, and sexy thin lips, which at the moment he was using to kiss her neck. His hair was wild and unruly, of a wonderfully dark ebony, and it spiked in many directions.

"At this moment I am thinking of so many things," she whispered as she kissed his chest. "I don't want to go back to a man that is a selfish lover. I'm getting tired of him," she said almost absently.

"Then why don't you leave him?" Kakarot asked as he ran a hand through her long, curling, blue hair.

"Are you kidding? Can you imagine the scandal that would ensue? The press would eat us all up. He's selfish when it comes to our "love-life" but he is not unkind to me. We have a marriage that is more of a facade to help his career as District Attorney."

"Then if you do not leave him, at least live your life and let me treat you the way you deserve," Kakarot whispered huskily against her neck.

"You have treated me far better than any man ever has," Bulma murmured as she ran her hands over the hard, packed muscles of his flat stomach. He was tall, and every single part of his body was corded in muscle. She especially loved his thick arms when they embraced her warmly against his body.

Kakarot smiled down at her, watching mesmerized as her crystalline blue eyes darkened with her growing desire. She was so beautiful, and he enjoyed feeling her soft curves melt into his hard muscles, as if she belonged there. The paleness of her skin was flushed with their evening activities, and he was so very tempted to never let her go. Bulma's voice halted his musings.

"Will I see you again after I leave?" Bulma asked as she felt his hands begin to roam the soft curves of her body. Gods, this man was insatiable. He was already hard and ready, pressing against her thigh.

"Do you have a number where I can reach you that you will not be discovered in?" he breathed as he slid between her thighs.

"Maybe," Bulma whispered as she brought his face down for a passionate kiss that turned heated as he united their bodies.

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"And this happened how long ago?"

"About three years, more or less."

"What can I tell you Bulma? It is a damn big miracle that the press didn't find out about this."

Bulma ran a hand through the straight silky locks of her blue hair and nodded. Her sister was right. This would have been the scandal of their lives, and not only would she lose face, or ruin Yamcha's career, but she would lose the respect of her children.

Her sister, Marron, happened to be her twin sister, born just a few seconds after her. They had the same color of hair and eyes, but their faces had some features that made the difference between being identical. Her sister was like her confidant, and her best friend. They told each other everything, and right at that moment, she had told her sister all about the little affair that she had had with that beautiful man with the French accent three years ago.

After they had said their good-bye's, she never heard from him again. It was for the best, though. She didn't want to chance them getting caught had he called and they continued the affair. He had made her feel so cherished and like a real woman, but she would turn that down for her family, but most importantly, for the children.

"Bulma?"

She looked up when her name was called from inside the house. She and her sister had been sitting outside on the deck, sipping margarita's and talking about deep dark secrets. At the moment, her dear husband was calling her.

He was a handsome man, though not as much as Kakarot was, of her memory of him. Yamcha was tall, and lightly muscled, his hair was in short spikes, and he always wore a tailored business suit. He had had a set of scars on his face once upon a time, from a car accident. It was surprising what plastic surgery could do for you these days.

"What is it Yamcha?" she asked, trying to mask her annoyance.

"We have a meeting to go to tonight. It is a formal dinner and we will be going to a very known restaurant with very respected people. This will help-......."

"Your image and your career," Bulma finished, already knowing what he was talking about. Those were the only reasons they went out together. They needed to be seen as a 'happy family'. Though Bulma was far from happy.

"Yes," Yamcha replied dryly, glaring at Bulma for a few seconds. Then he turned to her twin. "Marron, will it be too much trouble if you take care of the children this evening?" Yamcha asked his sister-in-law.

The woman nodded with a smile, looking even more like Bulma. "I would love to spend time with the two munchkins."

"Thank you," Bulma said softly. "How about we go buy my dress for tonight?"

"Sure! As long as I get myself a little something too," Marron said as she stood.

"Let me guess....... A new pair of shoes?" Bulma asked with a smirk.

"You know it," Marron said as they stood and walked back into the house to get their bags.

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"Okay, you two know how I want you to behave, right Trunks and Rico?" Bulma asked the two children in front of her. The two boys nodded, and she smiled. Only one of them was her son, from a previous marriage. Little Trunks was turning out to be a carbon copy of his father painted in her colors, and whenever she looked at him, it made her heart ache.

Her first husband had been her first love. He had been a very renown judge, but he had mysteriously been assassinated, and so far, no one knew who had done it. His death had left a hole in her heart, and then Yamcha had come along, offering her and her son the protection that they needed in case whoever killed her ex-husband came for them too.

'Oh, Vegeta, if you could only see your son now,' Bulma thought as she looked at her eight years old son. Vegeta. Her first love, one that she would never forget. But she moved on, she had to. Otherwise, she would have died with him, but she needed to be strong for their son.

Rico happened to be Yamcha's son only. He had taken the boy from his mother in a custody battle when he had been an infant, and his reputation had helped steer the custody into his hands. Rico and Trunks got along well, and she cared for the nine year old boy as if he were her son too. Trunks gave her a mischievous smile. "Oh, we promise to behave mom. You know us."

"That is why I am asking you two to behave. If you don't, then I will cut both your allowance's for the whole month. Understand?" Bulma asked them seriously.

"Yeah, we don't like trouble," Rico put in, gazing up at her through a thick mop of auburn colored spikes, his own eyes shinning mischievously.

"Good. I expect you to be asleep by the time your father and I get back," Bulma said as she smoothed a hand down her thigh and waited for Yamcha at the door. She knew that she was wearing something very revealing, but that was the point, to show style and look good.

She was wearing a pair of black flared stretch pants, and over it, she wore a top that was low cut and from under her bosom down it was see through, showing her flat stomach. It fell in a thin curtain all the way to her knees in a sparkling white and black material. Along with that, she wore tall boots that made her almost as tall as Yamcha, and her hair was in soft, long waves down her back and shoulders. She also had on a long silver chain with a black stone at the end, and a silver and diamond watch that Yamcha had given her for their anniversary.

She hadn't taken too long to get ready, but he was always the one that took the longest to get ready, always worrying about this appearance. But she never really said anything about it. She had everything a woman could want. Except love.

"Are you ready, Bulma?" Yamcha asked as came down the stairs, a portfolio in his hands.

"I've been ready for about an hour already," Bulma said with a small laugh. He smiled at her and gave the two boys a few words of warning if they didn't behave. Then he took her hand and they walked out the door. They got into his fancy Lexus, and were followed by a car that was occupied by their current bodyguards. Politicians could never have too much protection.

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Bulma smiled pleasantly, trying really hard to not look bored at the current conversation her husband and his colleagues were having. She didn't really appreciate the look that one of them was giving her.

He was looking at her as though she were a piece of steak behind the glass at a market that he was thinking of buying. Nappa was his name, and he was big as he was ugly, but he was one of the most important men that Yamcha associated with.

"You were Vegeta's woman, weren't you?" Nappa whispered to her when Yamcha turned to talk to the others sitting with them, turning his attention away from them.

Bulma regarded him with a dark look. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

Nappa smirked, his face taking on an evil look. "Mysterious his death, wasn't it? You and the boy were the only beneficiaries to his fortune?" he asked maliciously.

Her eyes darkened in anger. "I had no interest in his money. I have my own and I had no reason to want his death. Please refrain yourself from offering such scathing comments. You have no right," Bulma hissed softly, her face hadn't changed from the pleasant smile it had been in since she got there.

"I see now what he saw in you. You were a match for his temper. Personally, I think that he blinded himself with you. I wouldn't be surprised if you were the one that ordered his death," Nappa said softly.

Bulma let out a scoff. "If my husband wasn't such a good friend of yours, my glass of wine would have been dripping down your face by now," she spat a little louder. She stood, her chair screeching back and she threw her napkin onto the table. "Please excuse me," she said.

The men had stood when she had and they gave Yamcha a strange look before they all sat back down. Bulma stomped her way to the ladies room, trying with inhuman strength to hold back the tears of hurt that were threatening to fall.

How dare that man say that she had ordered Vegeta's death? She loved him with all her heart, for Kami's sake. She grabbed a hand-towel that was offered to her by the woman near the sink, and dabbed the corner's of her eyes. She took a few deep breaths and checked her make-up.

"Thank you," Bulma whispered before she handed the towel back and walked out of the rest room. She walked towards the table slowly, but she made a slight detour and made her way towards the balcony that was on the other side of a huge fish tank in a wall.

The air outside was warm and with the spicy scent of flowers that were planted all around the restaurant. They were on the third floor of it, where the bar was located, and from there, Bulma could see the lights of the city. She thought about her life up until now. Every pain she had gone through, all the sacrifices, and she wanted to wail out loud. The death of her first husband was a wound that had just been torn back open by that bald giant, that bastard.

Vegeta would always hold a part of her heart, and Yamcha, he was only a friend to her. A "trophy" husband, or maybe that was what she was to him, a trophy wife. But it didn't matter, she didn't love him, and never would. Just the fact that they slept in separate bedrooms half of the time told her that their marriage was a sham.

Then came that one time affair she had had with Kakarot three years ago. It was preposterous, but when he held her in his arms, she felt loved. After the death of Vegeta, she hadn't felt loved, not with Yamcha, and not with anyone. But Kakarot had made her feel so special. Sometimes she wished that she could see him again, at least one more time.

"Ma'am."

Bulma looked back and blinked at the waiter that had brought a drink to her on a platter. "I didn't order anything," she said in confusion.

"Someone bought this for you and told me to bring it to you with this," the man said as he handed her a glass of raspberry flavored Bacardi. It was her favorite, and with it, he handed her a note under the napkin and then walked away.

Bulma raised the glass to her nose and smelled the pleasant scent of the raspberry alcohol. When she did, her mind automatically went back to a fond memory she had. Three years ago...............

-----------------------------Flashback------------------------- -----

Bulma took a sip of her raspberry Bacardi and smiled at her friend as they sat at the bar of the hotel she was staying at. She hadn't seen her in years, since high school and they were catching up with everything that had recently happened in their lives.

Alex had been one of her closest friends, and now they still kept in touch whenever they could. Alex flipped her long red hair and smirked, her big brown eyes sparkling mischievously. "There is this really gorgeous man to your left that has been staring at you from the moment he walked in," she whispered.

"What does he look like?" Bulma asked. She wanted to turn and look, but it would be too obvious.

"He's tall, with really dark spikes that go all over his head. Black eyes, handsome face, and from the looks of it, a VERY nice body," Alex whispered.

"Hmmm, if the press finds out that I am even talking to some man in a bar, they will turn this into a scandal!" Bulma said quietly.

"So take him to your room and talk to him there!" Alex laughed.

"You are impossible!" Bulma laughed with her. "I can't take him to my room. What if he's some sort of psychotic rapist?"

Alex rolled her eyes at her friend's exaggeration. "Look at the time, Bulma. I really have to get going," she said as she grabbed her bag and stood to go.

"You are not leaving me here alone with a guy that is going to hit on me as soon as I'm alone!" Bulma said as she glared at her friend.

"Call me in a flash if anything is wrong, and let me know what happened, ok? Take care Bulma, it was great to see you again," Alex said as she waved and walked out of the bar.

Bulma sighed and sat back, twirling the straw around her drink absently, ignoring the gaze of the man that was starring at her. She jumped when the waiter walked over to her and sat a glass down in front of her. She looked up at and frowned. "I didn't order anything."

"This is from the gentleman sitting at the bar," the waiter said before he walked away.

Bulma looked at the glass and noticed that it was her favorite drink. Then she finally looked over at the man and watched with a half smile as he raised his glass at her and stood. He was handsome, Bulma mused, very handsome. His eyes, they were dark and captivating, and she felt her heart speed up, the way it hadn't happened since she had met her first husband. But it troubled her that it was with a man that she didn't even know.

He came to stand in front of her and smiled. "May I share this drink with you, cherie?" he asked her, a slight accent to his voice.

"Sure," Bulma said as she smiled and extended a hand towards the seat across from her.

He sat down and stared at her. "My name is Kakarot, with whom do I have the pleasure?" he asked smoothly.

"I'm Bulma," she told him simply.

"It is good to meet such a beautiful woman. May I ask why you are alone?"

"I am here on business, but my husband couldn't accompany me because of his duty to his job," she replied.

"Oh, a husband. He must be a very lucky man to have you by his side. Are you happily married?" Bulma raised an eyebrow. He chuckled. "Am I prying?"

"Not at all," Bulma said. "No, I am not happy. Like every other woman that is married to a public figure, I can not do anything that will risk damaging my husband's reputation. What about you? Are you married or currently involved with anyone?"

"No," Kakarot said. "I have no engagements, and I don't wish to have any at the moment, but I would enjoy the pleasure of your company, if I do not offend you, in my suite," he whispered as he handed her a key to a room in the hotel.

Bulma stared at the key and then at him, her eyes narrowing. "I don't even know you. What makes you think that I will go to your room with you?" She sipped from her drink.

He had merely smirked at her and then stood and left. He had intrigued her, and before she knew it, she had found herself in his room, with her clothes off, and with him above her, giving her the pleasure of her life as she screamed his name.

-----------------------------End Flashback------------------------------

Bulma sipped from her drink and then set it on the stone banister and opened the note. It was written in a very nice dark script. It read:

'Venir, mon amour.'

Her eyes widened impossibly and she felt her lips curl into a smile. But where was he? The note said, come, my love, and she thought that maybe she was just imaging things. He couldn't possibly be here at the bar. Mon amour was a pet name that he had given her those days they spent together, and the memory brought a warmth to her stomach.

She turned to look inside, but he wasn't anywhere visible. From where she stood, she could see Yamcha, and he was frowning at her. She shook her head and made a motion that let him know that she wanted to leave. He nodded and signaled her over. Bulma walked back towards them and said her goodbye's and apologized to the men. "I have a massive migraine," she said.

"That's okay sweetheart," Yamcha said as he motioned his bodyguards over. "They will take you home and then come back for me."

Bulma nodded and refrained from glaring at Nappa, who was at the moment smirking at her in superiority. That man was trouble, and she didn't care who the hell he was. The next time he even suggested that she had killed her last husband, she would slap him with a lawsuit to shut him up. She kissed Yamcha on the cheek, and then walked out, bodyguards in tow.

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She couldn't sleep. Why the hell was she so anxious? It was already two in the morning and Yamcha was still out, but that was the least of her worries. She had been pacing her bedroom for about an hour already, stopping a few times to stare at the note that was written in French.

He had given her a number to call also, before she had left the states, but she had never had the courage to call him, and he hadn't called her either. But now, he had shown signs of life, and she didn't know what to do. She was so confused, and with that thought, she lay down and finally went into a troubled sleep.

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Bulma yawned slowly and stretched her arms wide. She sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, groaning in fatigue. It didn't do her good to stay up so late worrying about nonsense. Something red caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she slowly turned.

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head, and she reached over to pick up the red, red rose that was laying there against her white sheets. There was a small note attached to it, and she opened it to read. It said:

'I have missed you, ma cherie.'

If that rose was there with her, then it meant that he was following her around, and had risked getting caught when he had gone into her home to leave it. But why was he taking so long to show himself to her?

"I am going crazy," Bulma muttered to herself as she left the rose there and jumped up to take a shower and to get ready to get down to her office. After she dressed, she walked over to get the rose and brought it to her nose to smell the wonderful perfume. She then placed it inside of a cabinet with a lock, and then walked out.

Once at her office, her secretary gave her the summary of the meetings that she was going to be having that day, and Bulma got down to working diligently. At around noon, her intercom beeped and her secretary let her know that Yamcha wanted to see her.

Bulma stood as her husband walked in and smiled. "How can I help you?" she asked him nicely.

"Do you remember that I touched that subject about you having a personal bodyguard with you at all times?" Yamcha asked as soon as he had come in.

"Yamcha, please don't start!" Bulma whined.

"You are not arguing with me. I have a set of men watching over our boys, and I need someone personally for you. Don't argue with my because it is to no avail," he said seriously. "Besides, I have found the person that will watch after you."

"You hired someone without me meeting that person and without giving my consent?" she asked darkly, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Yamcha recognized that note in her voice and sighed tiredly. "Meet him first and let me know what you thought. But for the day, he has already been hired so that you can give him a 'try', if that is okay with her majesty," he said sarcastically.

Bulma was about to give him a saucy reply, when he called the man into her office and her response died in her throat. Her eyes went wide as she watched him walk in, and she had to contain herself from blurting out his name.

Yamcha turned back to her and smiled. "Bulma, I want you to meet Goku," he said. Then he looked at his watch. "Sweetheart, I have to leave, but Goku here gave me his resume and he is a very respected bodyguard, so please don't shoot him down before you know him?" he asked her seriously.

Bulma nodded dumbly and watched with a frown as Yamcha left. Then her eyes darkened and she turned to the other man in the room. "You said that your name was Kakarot," she hissed.

"It is, cherie. Goku is my first name and people automatically assume that is what I like to be called," he said with a smile.

"You've been following me around," she accused lightly. "How did you know that my husband was searching for a bodyguard?"

"I know many things about you," Kakarot whispered as he approached her, coming to stand within inches of her. Bulma took a step back, not trusting herself to be this close to his body while she had been missing it. "Ironic, ne? That I get to be your 'body'-guard, when I have done so much more than guard your body," he whispered smoothly.

Bulma's mouth went dry at the look in his eyes and walked away from him to go sit back at her desk. "I have no time for an affair at this time, I am very busy. So I suggest that if you would like to be my bodyguard, then don't even try to seduce me into an affair again."

She was so caught up in trying to ignore him, that she never saw when he advanced on her and snatched her up from the seat, pulling her towards a wall and a large file cabinet. He pressed her against it with his body, and his mouth was already against her neck, teasing and tasting her. "W-what are you doing?" Bulma asked shakily.

"You have no idea how long I have waited to touch your body," Kakarot whispered as he cupped her breasts in his large hands, squeezing and kneading.

"But Kakarot......... what about Yamcha?" she breathed as she ran a hand through his thick hair and closed her eyes as he sucked lightly at her neck.

"If he is an obstacle, then I can take care of that," Kakarot whispered as he wrapped his arms around her. "Every barrier can be destroyed. Give me the word and I will make you a free woman." He held her tightly as he felt her stiffen in his arms.

Bulma's eyes widened and she pushed against him in apprehension? Was Kakarot talking about killing off Yamcha? Gods, she didn't even know this man and he could very well be a psychotic murderer. But his touch and his body her body throb with long suppressed desire.

Nappa had accused her of giving the word to kill Vegeta, though that was preposterous. But could she do that very thing to Yamcha?

Did you guys like this start? Things will unravel as I move on, but let me know what you thought and I promise to update soon!

Byebye

~!Joey!~