InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 4: Justification ❯ Wedding Belle ( Chapter 79 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Kicking the door closed behind them, Kichiro carried Bellaniece over the threshold into the quiet house without breaking the kiss that had started in the middle of the short walk from the Izayoi house to their home.  Awkward to hold the gathered mass of her dress, he stubbornly refused to let her walk even part of the way.  The sun was setting over the forest, bathing the two in shades of golden light and blue-gray shadows.  It was Bellaniece who had finally demanded that he take her home, and he had relied solely on his senses as he kissed her time and again.

"You could put me down now," Bellaniece murmured between nibbling kisses.

"No," he argued.  "I don't think I will."

"Come, now, doctor . . . I have something for you."

"Oh, yeah?  I've got something for you, too," he leered.

She giggled then moaned as he nipped her neck.  "You don't want your . . . presents?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, he held onto her for another moment before finally letting her feet drop to the floor.  "Fine, fine," he grumbled.  "Ruin the mood, why don't you?"

"I think you'll like them."

He followed her into the living room, draping the tuxedo coat over the back of the sofa before sprawling on it as she pulled a large manila envelope from the table drawer and handed it to him before sitting beside him.  "I hope you like them."

He eyed her for a moment before opening the envelope and pulling out the contents.  "Ahh," he breathed, staring at the matte-finish photographs in his hands.  "You're . . . very . . . naked," he remarked as the half-smile on his features dissipated as he shot her a suspicious glance.  "Who took these?"

Bellaniece shrugged and shook her head slowly.  "Who do you think?"

"Belle," he began in a warning tone.

She laughed.  "Sierra did, of course.  Do you like them?"

"Sierra?"

Bellaniece nodded.  "You don't think I'd get naked for another man, do you?"

"Kami, I'd hope not . . . Otherwise I'd have to hunt him down and kill him."

"I was talking to her the other day and mentioned that I wanted to give you something really special today.  She suggested portraits.  I suggested . . . naked."

Flipping slowly through the images, Kichiro finally smiled.  'Tastefully done,' he allowed.  Bellaniece was naked, yes, but while her breasts were very visible, other parts of her were hidden in shadows or strategically concealed with a bent leg or a profile view.  She wasn't smiling in any of the pictures, but that hardly mattered.  Eyes sparkling, teasing, she didn't have to smile to look entirely inviting.  "Ni-i-i-ice," he breathed.  "Very nice."

"I have one more for you," she ventured, pulling a wooden five-by-seven frame from the folds of her skirt.  "I thought you could put it on your desk at work."

He grinned lazily, glancing up from the pictures just for a moment.  "There's no way in hell I'm putting one of these on my desk for everyone and their uncle to see," he informed her.

She laughed.  "Why not?  You said before that I have the kind of body that the women who come into your office are after, didn't you?  I could be your poster girl."

Kichiro snorted.  "I don't think so, princess."

"Sierra will be disappointed," she said with a shake of her head.  "I mean, these are more than just pictures, don't you think?  Sort of like . . . visual art."

"Yeah, well, that's fine.  I'm still not letting anyone else see my mate naked, thanks."

Bellaniece sighed.  "All right.  You could keep it in your drawer at least," she pointed out reasonably.  "No one else would see it then, but if you missed me while you were there . . ."

He held out his hand and wiggled his fingers.  "Hand it over, wench," he demanded.

"You sure?"

"Now."

"And here I thought you had the patience of a saint," she quipped.

"Hardly, Belle."  He chuckled as she handed him the picture frame then laughed as he gazed at the photograph.  She was naked, sure, but it was a head shot with just her bare shoulders showing.  Smiling happily, she stared out of the image back at him.  "Yeah, this one can go to work with me," he agreed mildly.

Bellaniece laughed.  "One more," she quipped as she stood up and took his hand.  He set the picture frame on the coffee table and let her drag him toward the small room at the back of the house that he'd made into his study.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked her, arching an eyebrow as she stepped into the room and dropped his hand.

"I told you," she said with a shake of her head.  "There's one more.  Are you ready?"

"In here?"

She nodded and grasped the closet door.  Winking at him quickly, she opened it with a flourish, and Kichiro sucked in his breath at the grayscale poster of Bellaniece sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up, arms around her legs, and a faraway look on her face.  His favorite by far of all the images, Kichiro stared at it for several seconds.  Bellaniece slipped her arms around his neck, nuzzling his throat as she breathed a happy sigh.  "Mrs. Kichiro Izayoi . . . I like that," she told him.

"I like it, too, princess."  Closing his eyes as she pressed her lips against the underside of his chin, he held her close for a moment before kissing her softly.  "You want your present now?"

She grinned, eyes lit with anticipation.  "A present?" she echoed, leaning away.  "You got me a present?"

He snorted.  "Keh!  Of course I did!  Do you want it or not?"

"Now, I should say that I can wait because that'd be the more mature thing, don't you think?"

Kichiro shrugged.

"Then again, it'd be a lie because you know I love presents, right?"

He laughed at her reasoning and let his arms drop.  "Okay, Belle-chan.  Check our bedroom."

"Our bedroom?" she echoed, pausing in the doorway to peek over her shoulder at him.  "Intriguing . . ."

She gathered her skirt so that it wasn't dragging on the floor and hurried off toward the bedroom.  Kichiro followed in her wake.

"Well, well, Dr. Izayoi," Bellaniece mused as she let go of her skirt and eyed the digital-camcorder that stood on a tripod in the corner of the room.  "What are we doing with this?"

He lounged in the doorway and slowly shook his head.  "I just bought that so you could record our trip to Paris," he assured her.  "Nothing untoward . . ."

She nodded as she thoughtfully regarded him.  "So you have no intention of, say, recording . . . anything else?"

"Absolutely not."

She grinned.  "Well, that's a pity."

"You'd . . . want . . . to record other . . . things?"

Giggling softly as she inspected the camcorder, she shrugged and bent down to peer into the little monitor.  "I'm not ashamed of the things we share.  Are you?"

Kichiro shoved himself out of the doorway, yanking his tie loose and unbuttoning his cuffs and shirt.  Sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and socks, he felt the bed sag behind him as Bellaniece crawled over to join him.  "Come on, Dr. Izayoi . . . you can strip faster than that," she teased, rising up on her knees and pressing her body against his back.  "I thought you promised me a spanking . . ."

Chuckling at her obvious reminder of his whispered promise when he'd discovered during the course of removing her garter belt that she really hadn't been lying about not wearing panties after all, Kichiro deliberately slowed his pace.  He'd taken a moment to slip a finger between her legs before removing the garter belt, but his victory had been short lived when the scent of her instant arousal had nearly overwhelmed him on the spot.  "I did, didn't I?"

"You did," she agreed.

He rolled his eyes but grinned.  "You're damn lucky you were facing away from everyone," he admonished.

She laughed softly, her breath stirring the sensitive hairs lining his ears.  "You chastised me.  That was mean enough."

"Mean?" he countered.  "Hardly mean."

She sighed.  "It was," she pouted.  "Very, very mean."

"All I did was showed you how easy it is to take advantage of a woman who doesn't wear panties at her wedding," he said.

"Show me again?"

He stifled a groan when the tip of her tongue flicked against his ear just before she nipped the appendage.  He shuddered as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders, mouth trailing kisses along his neck, across his shoulders.  She slipped her hands under his arms, kneaded the muscles of his chest as his skin broke out in a sweltering burn.

"Make me your mate, Kichiro," she breathed against his skin.

Her words had the same effect as the winds during a forest fire: spreading the burn, goading the ache, fanning the need that surged through his body.  Turning around so abruptly that she gasped, he caught her by the arms, bore her down against the bed as his lips sought out hers, as the precarious hold he had on his passion skittered away.  She lifted her hips against his.  Gasping as the absolute heat of her scorched him through the layers of fabric that separated their bodies, he could feel her hands tugging at his slacks.  Unable to control himself as he pushed her skirt up her legs, he leaned back, stared at the delicate white lace garter that clipped onto the sheer the ivory silk stockings covering her flushed thighs, framing the dampened bronze curls.  It was for her benefit that he knelt between her legs, flicked his tongue out to taste her, buried his fingers in her as she cried out, as she shook and moaned, as she quivered under his mouth, as she sank her fingers into his hair.  She ground her hips against him, shamelessly took what he gave her as she offered herself to him.  The taste of her was thick in his head, emblazoned on his brain as it spiraled and evolved.

He wanted her so badly that he hurt, needed to feel her, to possess her, to make her his mate.  She moaned, cried, gasped, holding his head to her, pushing him away when the sensation was almost too much to bear.  Whimpering softly, begging him through her actions, Bellaniece tossed her head back, body writhing under his as she uttered his name, the broken sound of unbridled need.

He pushed off his slacks and helped Bellaniece sit up.  The rumpled wedding dress was held on with a single zipper down the back.  She pushed it off her shoulders, carefully slipped it down her hips.  Kichiro untied the crinoline and discarded it on the floor, too.  Breasts heaving as she struggled to breathe, her nipples hardened nubs that beckoned him, Bellaniece dropped back against the mattress, hands trailing over her breasts, fingertips pinching her nipples as he watched, mesmerized.  Groaning, he fell onto the bed, covering her body with his as he stroked her cheek with trembling fingertips until she opened her eyes.

"Stay with me, Belle.  Can you do that?"

Nodding slowly, almost groggily, she smiled just as little as her breath rattled into her lungs.  "Yes."

Reaching back, he stroked her leg, held it close against his side as she arched up to receive him.  Groaning as he slid into her, he felt himself shake as the moist heat that surrounded him quaked and trembled.  Bellaniece gasped, bucked her hips under his, drew him deeper, using her body to stroke him.  Rising around him, surging through him, sensation that had once been blunted was raw, fresh, overwhelming.  The absolute shock of her heat, of her escalating passion, ripped through him with a painful vengeance.  Panting, growling, reveling at the feel of her nipples stroking his chest as she writhed beneath him, Kichiro stared into her eyes, willed her to see every corner of his being, to know him better than he knew himself.

Bellaniece's hands dropped to his shoulders, clinging to him.  Rasping out a harsh little moan, she breathed his name in the stillness.  The tattered rhythm of her heartbeat rang in his ears as the promise of a forever with her goaded him further, faster.  She met his movements without hesitation, matched his passion with her own.  Her eyes were darkened to a midnight hue, and he willed himself to stare at her, tried to make her understand just how much she meant to him.

He felt the tremors deep inside her moments before she called out to him, arching up off the bed as her head fell back against the pillows, as she dug her claws into the flesh of his shoulders.  He hissed in pain but didn't stop, jerking upright, grasping her hips as she exploded in spasms.  Her body constricted around him, caught up in the pleasure that wasn't waning.  Her cries echoed in the room, spilling from her lips as she gripped the pillow under her head.

The violent pleasure bordered on pain, wrapped around his mind as he fell onto his elbows.  Bellaniece covered his face with kisses as he strained against her, inside her, as he felt himself coming undone.

The ragged sound of their shallow breathing, the gentle sound of Bellaniece's kisses permeated Kichiro's brain seconds before he winced.  If Bellaniece realized that she'd inadvertently clawed him, she didn't show it.  He grinned in a completely arrogant way as he leaned on his elbow and slowly shook his head.  "Mine," he murmured, sparing a moment to kiss her nose.  "All mine."

"All yours," she agreed, shivering slightly when he moved his hips against hers.

"Ready for another round?"

She giggled as Kichiro nuzzled her neck again.  "Wave at the camera, my mate."

He leaned back and cocked an eyebrow in question.  "You had the camera on the whole time?"

Smiling a little too innocently, she propped herself up on her elbows and laughed.  "Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I knew there was a good reason I wanted to be with you," he quipped.

"Besides the fact that I'm just a fantastic lover?"

"And that, too.  Anyway, you're much more photogenic.  You wave."

Bellaniece complied then moaned in obvious objection as Kichiro rolled over with a soft grunt.  Shifting her body so she could smooth the hair out of his eyes, she smiled as she traced his lips, as she stroked his cheek.  "I can't believe it, you know."

"Believe what?" he asked, catching her fingers to kiss her knuckles.

"That you're really my mate.  It just seems . . . like a dream."

"Not a dream," he assured her, pulling on her fingers to bring her closer, kissing her softly, tenderly.

"Good," she insisted as he kissed her again started to sit up.  Reaching for the brochures touting Paris's many attractions, Bellaniece smiled as she idly leafed through them.  "I'd hate to sleep through our wedding night."

"Are you finished packing?" he asked as he swung his legs off the bed and stood.

"Yes . . . Where are you going?"

Kichiro arched his back, stretched toward the ceiling before starting out of the room.  "Thirsty.  Want anything?"

"No, thank you," she replied, glancing up from the brochures.  Her soft gasp echoed loudly as she rose up on her knees and caught Kichiro's hand.  "Oh, God!  What happened to your back?"

Sparing a moment to glance over his shoulder and grimaced at the thin trails of blood that had dripped from the four smooth lacerations on each of his shoulders.  "Wha—?  Oh, those?  Keh!  Those are nothing.  Call them love scratches."

His teasing didn't alleviate the obvious upset marring Bellaniece's features, and she hesitantly reached out but didn't quite touch them.  "I did . . . I'm so sorry . . ."

"Oi, there'll be no crying tonight, Belle-chan.  Got that?"

She winced at his gruff tone but managed a weak little smile.  "I—"

"Nope, no tears, wench.  I'll be right back."

She watched him stride out of the room and couldn't help the surge of satisfaction that shot through her.  So proud, so steady, his strength was hers, wasn't it?  Bellaniece sat back and sighed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she mused at just how much things could change in the course of twenty-four hours.  Married . . . mated . . . and as her first existence ended, another had begun.

'Daddy . . .' she thought suddenly as the secretive little smile on her face faltered.  She hadn't really gotten to speak with him after the ceremony, and she'd so wanted to.  In the days since he'd found out about Kichiro and her relationship, there had been a certain sense of reluctance in the relationship that Bellaniece so cherished.  Her father still smiled, still seemed like the same man she knew so well and loved so dearly but there was a certain distance between them that Bellaniece couldn't seem to breech.

Maybe it was all in her head; maybe there wasn't real basis for her fears.  Maybe it was the unsettling use of the nickname she knew he loathed that bothered her the most.

Reaching for the telephone, Bellaniece dialed Cain's cell phone before she could talk herself out of it.  Why did she feel the overwhelming sense of urgency?  Why did she believe that she had to talk to him before she left in the morning?

"Bellaniece?  Is everything all right?" Cain's voice sounded after the first ring.

She grimaced since she hadn't wanted to worry him.  "Everything's fine, Daddy; just fine."

His sigh of relief was audible.  For a moment Bellaniece wondered where he was.  "Didn't figure I'd be hearing from you tonight," Cain confessed grudgingly.  "Did Dr. Peckerhead do something to upset you?"

"No," she assured him as she broke into a grin.  "I just wanted to tell you . . . thank you."

He was quiet for a moment.  "For what?"

"For being my daddy . . ."

"You sound upset," he said, careful to keep his tone neutral.

Bellaniece sighed and leaned back against the headboard.  "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

She paused a moment, swallowed hard.  She could ask him anything, and Cain would answer.  He always had, hadn't he?  'What am I afraid of?  He's Daddy . . . He loves me . . .'

'You're afraid of asking him the real question.  You're afraid of what he'll say.'

'Why have you started calling me 'Belle', Daddy?  What does it mean?'

She opened her mouth to give voice to the question, but the words just wouldn't come out.

"Belle?"

Wincing as the foreign sound of her shortened name spilled so effortlessly from her father's lips, Bellaniece shook her head, gripped the telephone receiver tight.  "I just wanted to ask . . . if you enjoyed yourself at the reception."

"Oh . . . about that.  I needed to tell you—"

"Are you sure you—Oi!" Kichiro exclaimed as he strode back into the room with a bottle of Ramune soda in his hand, Bellaniece couldn't help but gasp as he set it aside only to grab her ankle and pull her toward the edge of the bed.  "Is someone dead?" he demanded, nodding at the phone in her hand.

Bellaniece covered the receiver with her hand and shook her head.  "No, but I—"

"You're not supposed to be yakking on the phone on our wedding night," he complained.

"Just give me a moment," she pleaded as a sense of foreboding swept through her.  If the look on his face meant anything at all, he was planning . . . something.  Bracing her feet against the coverlet, she tried to push herself away from him.  The silk stockings slipped against the smooth fabric, and Kichiro caught each of her ankles in his hands.

"Bellaniece?  Are you there?"

Bellaniece grimaced as she uncovered the receiver and shook her head at Kichiro.  "Yes, I'm here, Daddy.  Were you saying something?"

Kichiro sank down on the bed and deftly pulled her knees apart as his gaze lit with silent challenge.

"Yeah, I was going to tell you—"

Bellaniece gasped again, body responding in a convulsion of nerves and sensation as Kichiro leaned toward her, sucking her breast as his finger pressed into her.  

"G-Gotta go, Daddy," she murmured moments before Kichiro grabbed the phone.  She heard the vague beep as he turned it off, heard the dull thump as the telephone handset hit the floor.  "Kich . . . iro . . ."

He chuckled softly, the reverberations slamming through her as she moaned.  "You don't need your daddy tonight, princess."

She thought that she nodded in agreement.  She couldn't think past the feel of her mate's complete possession of her body.

Daddy could wait, couldn't he?

'Tonight . . .'

Bellaniece smiled as her eyes fluttered closed.  'Tonight is for Kichiro . . . and for me . . .'