Rated: M
Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: Part 6 of Clandestine Trysts. The Curse is enacted and the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest are living obliviously in Storybrooke, Maine. Meanwhile, Mr. Gold has unfinished business with one Isabelle Hunter.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Once Upon a Time. If I did… I would rule the world with Rumplestiltskin at my side. *Narf*
A/N: I thought why not bring in the New Year with a less angsty story in this series. I know the last part was an emotional roller coaster, but this should make up for it. Like Part 2 of the series, this is going to be background info on their cursed selves. The first part of this story is the false memories they have, which will explain how Gold meets Izzy and how they developed their feelings for each other. The second part will be the 28 years they have been stuck living in so there will be lots of angst and some hot lovin' for these two. Thank you to everyone for taking the time to leave a review and for enjoying these stories! It makes this writer very happy! Don't forget to review!
Welcome to Storybrooke
By: Erik'sTrueAngel
Part 1
Every day was like any other day.
For as long as Mr. Gold could remember he would wake up, fix a small breakfast (usually coffee and a bowl of cereal), open the pawn shop, run to Granny's diner for lunch, work in the pawn shop to about nine or ten (depending on inventory and cleaning), dinner at home, and bed.
The next day will repeat in the same routine. Except on Rent Day. Those were his favorite… walking around the town of Storybrooke and collecting the rent from all the businesses and homes he owned. He had a perverse sort of pleasure in gathering the money and placing it in his suit jacket's pocket. Of course, the only time it wasn't pleasant was when he would have to endure the sob stories of why the rent wasn't paid in full or the ever asking request of an extension.
Having to stop and listen always put him behind his schedule and he was a man where time was of the essence. It wasn't long before people realized that sharing their woes with the likes of Mr. Gold was a quick way for being evicted. So they would suck it up and hand over whatever they had in hopes he wouldn't kick them out of their homes or close their businesses.
The whisperings of "beast" and "monster" and "heartless" were passed around and it thrilled Mr. Gold that he had such an impact on the small community. They were afraid of him… terrified of losing everything to him and the residents would take great lengths to make sure they didn't double-cross the man as he would limp down the sidewalk with his fashionable cane. No one was ever brave enough to share part of the town's public grounds with him, even the diner when he took his lunch. There would always be a wide berth surrounding him and it was exactly how Mr. Gold liked it.
That was… until her.
It all started one misty afternoon as Mr. Gold walked to the florist shop—Game of Thorns—to collect the rent. There had been an unfamiliar young man behind the counter with shaggy dark hair and a handsome face that as soon as Mr. Gold walked in, the boy shot him (what the fool assumed to be) a charming grin, which instantly had the landlord scowling in return.
"Where's Moe French?" Mr. Gold demanded, wondering if Moe was trying to get out of it by placing a lackey in the front. Normally, Moe could be depended upon his rent, but there had been a whisper of money troubles and being a small town and all… chances were it was the truth and Moe didn't have his rent.
"Mr. Gold right?" the man asked, ignoring the question. Those dim-witted gray eyes of his lit up with friendliness as the side of his mouth lifted in that annoying cheerful smile that really made Mr. Gold's grip on his cane tighten and temper the urge to smash his face in. "Izzy said you would be stopping by for the rent."
"Well, I certainly didn't come in to buy an arrangement of weeds," he retorted. "Besides, I believed I asked you about Moe French. I don't care what this Izzy told you, but my dealings are with Mr. French."
That wiped off the pleasant look. "I'm afraid Moe is ill and he asked me to run the shop for him today."
"That's rather unfortunate. For him," Gold said. "Rent is due and I'm here to collect."
Before the buffoon could open his mouth, the bell behind Gold rang.
"Greg, you forgot—oomph!"
He was literally slammed into, his balance thrown off as Gold nearly toppled to the ground, yet the man—Greg—caught him before he landed on his bad leg. Pushing the young man's hands away from him, Gold righted himself and whirled towards the person who dared to run into him (although he had been standing a tad too close to the door, not that he would admit it).
A woman… an incredibly beautiful woman stood agape, a combination of horror and concern in her blue eyes, her pale cheeks reddened in embarrassment.
"Oh gosh! I'm so sorry! I didn't expect anyone to be standing right there." She had a lilting accent, warm like honey. Her lower lip was sucked in between her teeth as she worried the soft pink flesh. "Are you all right?"
For the first time, Gold was at a loss. His usual suave and diabolical tongue laid heavy in his mouth as his gaze was fixed on her. There was something familiar about her… but he couldn't place where or how or why he would feel that way since he never forgot a face. Yet, there was something about her that was tugging at him and it was unsettling.
Finding his voice, Gold gave her his patented glare. "You need to pay better attention where you're walking dearie. I have half a mind to raise the rent another hundred for your blunder."
Expecting a gasp, an apology, or even a plea for forgiveness, Gold was stunned when the woman stuck her nose in the air with her thin, brown brow arched defiantly. "Well, Mr. Gold, you shouldn't be standing too close to a door when anyone could walk in. So if anyone has the right to complain it should be me."
She was petite in height and her three-inch heels didn't surpass him, but she certainly towered over him with that glint in her eye and her go-ahead-and-dare-me attitude. It didn't help matters that she placed her hands on her hips, bunching her coat at her waist, her left foot sticking out as she cocked her head to the side silently challenging him to raise that rent.
Gold gulped. Literally gulped. Yet, he couldn't let this girl push him around so he raised himself to his full height, using his cane to give himself that extra boost. "Well," he mimicked back, "you shouldn't run inside a building when there is a possibility that someone could be standing by the door."
Her lips were pursed and she was ready to say something else, but Greg interjected. "Izzy, he is right you know. You should be careful next time."
So this was Izzy. However, the name didn't sound right to Gold and he shook the thought away from his mind. Why should he care what her name is? If anything she was a public menace running into unsuspected men by flinging open doors and knocking them off their feet.
Izzy scoffed but she kept it to herself. "As I was saying… Greg, you left the rent money at Dad's house."
"Like father, like son," Gold muttered, which earned a confused look on Izzy's face and an amused one on Greg's.
"Actually," Greg corrected. "Izzy is Moe's daughter and I'm his son-in-law, but it's true I can be forgetful like Moe sometimes."
"Hardly," she responded as she stepped around Gold and gave Greg a kiss on the cheek. "Papa insists it's because of old age, but you have no excuse."
It was then Gold noticed the diamond ring on her finger. It was a gaudy-looking bauble that looked too big for her small finger and far too expensive for a florist's salary. He looked at it with distaste.
"Maybe I should raise the rent if a florist's assistant wages can cover for a rock like that."
Izzy gazed at her finger and then back at Gold with merriment. "Greg doesn't work for my father, but we are planning on taking it over when Papa retires. Keep the business in the family, you know."
"And I hope I could afford that rock after winning the lottery and all," Greg laughed. "But if you feel you should raise it on that account… well, I can match it. I have a lot of ideas for this shop that would really increase business."
"Greg is business savvy while I'm book savvy," Izzy said. "I'm just glad Papa told us he needed help when he did. I know he didn't want me moving back to Storybrooke, but he's the only family I have left."
"Yeah and I like that small towns are so quaint," Greg added.
"So Mr. French was experiencing some financial woes?" Gold questioned.
Izzy sadly nodded. "The last few months haven't been good. But we're here now to help him out. I missed working here when I was in high school and being surrounded by these beauties," she said, indicating the flowers. "But don't worry Mr. Gold. Rent is paid full in cash as you requested."
She unbuttoned her jacket and pulled out the envelope that bulged with the bills inside. Handing it to him, she gave him a tiny smile that made her eyes stand out more under the light. They were large, round, and clear crystal blue like the ocean and Gold couldn't suppress the shudder as his fingers brushed against hers when he accepted the rent.
He truly couldn't remember if Moe French had a daughter, but if what she said was true… then she had been out of Storybrooke for a while, yet that didn't excuse the fact that she worked in Game of Thorns when she was a schoolgirl. Then again, when she was in high school, Moe French was doing well and there was no need for Gold to know such petty things as a child as long as his tenants paid on time and in full.
Stuffing the money in his suit jacket, he was surprised at how heavy it felt. That's strange, he thought. It has never felt like that before.
He wondered if the weather was getting to him. The light drizzle had to be messing with his head in making him think he knew this girl and that she was far more attractive than his ex, Maria.
Not to mention… the fact that she was married didn't seem to faze him.
Gold didn't bother with goodbyes as he limped out of the shop, the door slamming shut behind him.
God helped the next poor soul he had to deal with as images of baby blue eyes and long, wavy chestnut hair danced in his head.
xxXXxx
His next encounter with Isabelle "Izzy" Hunter was several days later.
He had successfully managed not to think about the defiant Aussie lass until he noticed her stepping into Granny's diner during his lunch hour.
She waved hello to Ruby, the ever rebellious and tarty waitress, as her eyes searched for a place to sit.
The end opposite of Gold was crowded and newcomers would turn around and walk away when they saw where the open spaces were. Yet, it didn't occur to her there was a reason for this as she walked right on up to the table next to Gold's booth and slid in.
Instantly, the diners were whispering about this as a couple of them looked at the girl with pity in their eyes knowing the wrath she just unknowingly incurred.
Of course, they didn't know that this move had rendered Gold speechless as well and while had it been any other person… retaliation wouldn't be an issue. Yet, she continued to peruse the menu without a care in the world or notice her neighbor inches away from her.
Even Ruby was dumbstruck as she stared at the bold girl.
The first few minutes put time on the standstill as everyone waited with abated breath for Gold to blow up.
Knowing his reputation would be at risked if he didn't say something, Gold went to rectify it.
"Excuse me," he cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly dry but he ignored it as her blue eyes flicked towards him. "I believe you're in my area."
"Oh?" She looked around. "Well, I don't see a sign that says 'Mr. Gold's Diner' or spot or whatever."
"You don't understand," he tried again, this time his voice low and menacing. "When I eat lunch no one sits over here. Ever."
"Okay," she said, nodding her head in understanding. "But as you can see, Mr. Gold, there are no open spots for me to sit, except here. I guess you'll have to put up with me."
She tossed him a cheeky grin and fuck did she wink at him?
Without sparing him another glance, Izzy went back to her menu and once she made up her mind what she wanted… she told Ruby she was ready.
Ruby, still opened-jaw, walked tentatively over in case Gold decided to target her for Izzy's brazen action. Her pencil barely scratched the pad of paper as Izzy gave her order and quickly scampered off to put it in.
Not even once did Izzy look back at him or attempt conversation as he and the other diners gaped at her in amazement.
He didn't know what to make of this girl-woman. She apparently had a death wish if she intended to continue to antagonize him with her unruffled candor. When Ruby gave her, her iced tea Gold stood abruptly, finding his appetite no longer there. Shuffling out of the booth, he moved past her, almost freezing, when he got a whiff of scented roses and lavender.
Needless to say, he got out of there as quickly as possible without making a scene and throwing in a furious look at the other onlookers in case they thought she got away with it easily. At least he had some of them flinched in their seats, but he did make one mistake in looking back at the diner.
Izzy coolly sipped her drink from her straw, her eyes sparkling with amusement, with her dark red lips curved upwards in a smirk.
xxXXxx
After the diner incident, Gold was determined to find out everything that he could about Izzy. It wasn't difficult to get the information he needed and he convinced himself he was only doing this because someone needed to put her in her place. Not because he was unreasonably attracted to her.
Anyways, if he had been looking for a checkered past or some dark stain in her name… he was disappointed.
The girl was clean.
She graduated with honors in her class, the apple of her father's eye, and with big dreams of pursuing a career in writing. She attended Boston University where she met Greg Hunter. They dated for a couple of years when Hunter won half a million dollars in the lottery. It wasn't long afterwards for him to pop the question and to Gold's surprise… she refused. However, she didn't say no for long and they got married in front of the justice of the peace with her father as witness. Hunter didn't have any immediate family and for the most part… they seemed like a happy couple in love.
Of course, Gold thought sardonically. She probably said no because she didn't want others to think she wanted him for his money.
Unlike Maria. She had no issue in reminding him that was why she married him in the first place, but in Gold's limited experience with the fairer sex… all women were after one thing only—the man with the bigger purse strings. And as a result, Maria left him for some dashing younger man who was one of the fortunes 500.
Good riddance too. Let her be some other man's problem, not missing her in the slightest.
As for Izzy's situation, it was pretty clear that they got married right around the time Moe French started to experience a dip in sales. That had been about six months ago, which Gold had to admire the older man's cunning in covering it up so he wouldn't find out. Eventually the loss of profits caught up to him and he started to have his health decline. A single trip to the emergency room had his daughter running back to Storybrooke, her new husband in tow and the answer to her father's failing business.
What Gold couldn't quite figure out was why bother keep the shop running? Hunter had more than enough money to last them a lifetime so there was no need for Game of Thorns to keep its doors opened. Anything they could earn would be pocket change so it was really just a waste of open space and good property.
However, Izzy and her husband were determined to keep the store afloat. And Gold had to admit, begrudgingly, the boy had some decent ideas.
Game of Thorns had been doing moderately better, gaining more customers, and he did hear that they even hired a couple of part-time florists and a driver.
While that was good for a dying business, Gold had to deal with the impertinent Isabelle when it came to Rent Day. She unnerved him and he had a sneaky suspicion she knew this for she always had a smirk ready on her lips and a quip on her tongue. He would rather she just hand the money over, but she had to make it difficult for him.
Oh yes… she was a troublemaker. Telling him "hello" or "good morning" or "good" whatever time it was and asking him about his day and if he wanted a bottle of water or perhaps a nice floral arrangement for his home after all the irises and orchids are in season and don't they look so nice and smell good after a long hard day's work?
Then the audacious questions about his personal life…
Where in Scotland are you from? What made you decide to move to Storybrooke? Do you have family here? There? Was being a landlord your dream job or do you prefer the work in the pawnshop? Do you like football? The European football, mind you, not the American one since it is ironic they call it such since they are using their hands during the game and not their feet. Etcetera.
Her nosiness was covered up under the pretense of friendly chitchat and while one word from him would stop the foolish prattle… it didn't work on her. And while he couldn't figure her out, Gold did come to the terrifying conclusion that Isabelle "Izzy" Hunter... DID NOT FEAR HIM.
This was unbelievable. Inhuman really. Everyone feared Mr. Gold. Even the forest critters feared his presence when he strolled through the woods by his cabin.
Yet, this Izzy was not perturbed by him. Even his rudeness didn't ward her off. She would give him this scolding look—the one that reduced him to a little boy—until one day she warned him that if he insisted in bad manners he would lose a friend.
A friend… A friend!
What the fuck was wrong with her?
Mr. Gold didn't have friends. Acquaintances, maybe. Business associates, definitely. But friends? The word was foreign to him and once more he was taken aback by this tiny slip of a woman with a heart and spirit of a warrior.
Then one day the unthinkable happened.
It was a slow day in the pawnshop (when was it ever busy?) and Gold was polishing a white and blue floral pattern tea set. He knew he could make decent money out of it from a housewife who wanted to show off to her friends. He had been wiping down the last of the four cup set when the bell jingled above his door.
Not looking up from his task, he greeted: "Look around but if you break something, dearie, you are paying."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The cup in his hand nearly dropped when his head snapped up to see Izzy standing in the middle of his shop. This was the last place he ever expected her to walk into, but she wasn't paying attention to him as she glanced around, her mouth shaped in an "o" as she looked around at the priceless objects.
Her gaze stopped momentarily on two puppets at the counter, her brow raised quizzically as she peered closer at them.
Gold reached for his cane and moved to where she stood, using the glass counter as a barrier.
"Unique, huh?"
She jumped, her wide blue eyes blinking rapidly, almost forgetting he was there. Letting out a sheepish chuckle, she nodded. "They're something. Very lifelike."
"Indeed." He cracked a grin… a genuine one in fact. "Is there something I could help you with?"
A flush of pink crept on her features as Izzy shifted her weight nervously.
This was odd. He hadn't seen her so… timid that he wondered if this was some new trick up her sleeve to mess with him.
However, he was floored by what came out of her mouth next.
"This is going to sound crazy, but I needed someone to talk to. I know I could talk to Dr. Hopper, but it's not one of those cases; and frankly, there is Greg, but he's not one to understand something as delicate as this and there is a stupid football game on—yes, I mean the American football one and God knows one mustn't interrupt the sacred pigskin ball—but I really need someone who isn't going to sugarcoat everything."
She stared at him with such hope in her shining cobalt eyes, her hands clasped together, almost praying he wouldn't ask her to leave.
This… was new.
Running a tongue over his lips, Gold held his arm out, motioning to the backroom. "If you like, we can talk in the back. Would you like some tea?"
The look of relief washed over her as she beamed at him. "Y-yes! I would love some."
He nodded, unsure and in disbelief he was doing this, and said, "Come this way Mrs. Hunter."
She followed behind him and Gold was suddenly embarrassed over the clutter that was there. He never allowed anyone in the back of his shop, and the mess never bothered him until now.
Yet, it didn't seem to bother Izzy as she found a spot by his worktable to sit at. He sheepishly shuffled to the cabinet where he kept his personal teapot and once it was filled with water, he set it on top of an antique stove to let it boil. While they waited, Gold limped to his table and pushed some papers off his stool so he could sit.
Izzy was captivated by the spinning wheel he had in the corner and she pointed at it.
"Is that an actual spinning wheel?"
"Indeed it is," he replied smoothly. "Works too."
She gasped in astonishment. "I didn't think those were in existence anymore. Do you spin?"
The answer on the tip of his tongue was "yes" but that wasn't true and he frowned at why he would think so. "No I don't."
"Oh." She looked disappointed. "I thought you might. You seemed to have the hands for it."
As soon as those words flew out of her mouth, Izzy clapped her hand over her mouth, the pink in her cheeks turning red. "Sorry. I don't know why I said that."
"It's all right," he said, brushing it off like it was no big deal, while inwardly he thrilled at the thought that she noticed his hands. "What was it that you need to talk to me about?"
She glanced down at her hands, her thumbs rubbing together. "It's… about my father. I'm worried about him and I don't know what to do."
"What's wrong?"
Sighing, Izzy lifted her eyes. "He's sick Mr. Gold. Really sick. He has this horrible cough and it's been getting worse to the point where he can't leave his bed. He won't see Dr. Whale so I don't know how serious it is. He keeps brushing it off like it's nothing I need to be worried about, but he's losing weight and I'm at a loss on what to do. I can't force him to get help. I tried a couple of times by calling for an ambulance and you know what he did? He refused to go with the medics and he kept threatening them with a lawsuit if they tried to remove him from his bed. And because he's refusing treatment… there is nothing they can do. They can't make him go to the hospital. It's crazy, I know, and I can't count how many times I've lost my temper with him. Greg thinks I should leave him be. He's a grown man who can make his own decisions and me forcing the issue isn't going to do anything except make us madder."
She took a deep breath. "I know it hasn't been easy for him. I mean, when my Mum died, he took her death pretty hard. It got to the point where he couldn't go anywhere without thinking about her, which is why we moved to the States in the first place. And he got better. He opened the flower shop and everything was going very well. Even when I decided to go to school out of state… he was supportive. It wasn't until the past year that things started going downhill. Now… I feel like he's giving up. It's so infuriating!"
The teapot began to whistle and Gold excused himself to fix their tea. He returned in lightning speed and she thankfully accepted the hot drink.
Taking a sip, Izzy closed her eyes to get in control of her emotions. It clearly upset her that her father wasn't doing anything to help improve his health, and while Gold, himself, wasn't a fan of doctors either, even he admitted if he felt that poorly he wouldn't be stupid enough to ignore the symptoms.
Setting the cup down on the table, she looked at him. "I talked about this to Dr. Whale, hoping he would know what was wrong by the symptoms alone, but without running some tests… it could be a multitude of respiratory problems. And then I talked to Ruby from Granny's Diner and she agrees with Greg in that I should drop it. Pretty much… everyone I spoke to say the same thing. They keep insisting that if my father didn't think it was that serious, then I shouldn't jump to conclusions. But I don't think that's the case. I think he really is sick and a part of me fears that the only reason he's not fighting back is because he doesn't want to."
"And you decided this wasn't something to talk to Dr. Hopper about?"
"I'm talking to you," she reiterated. "Tell me the truth. Am I being crazy here or do I have to be concerned?"
"Hard to say," he said after a while. "I think it's natural to be concerned in a situation like this. And to be fair… your father is taking a big risk in thinking it's not a big concern. He should see someone, especially if it's upsetting you."
"Should I push it?"
"I guess it's up to you. Sometimes doing the right thing is the most difficult."
Izzy was lost in thought, drinking her tea intermittingly. Then she finally spoke. "Is it wrong of me to think that the right thing to do might be me letting him go?"
"No. Of course not."
"It's just… it's the impression I'm getting and I feel like everyone sees it but me. I know he misses her and I would be naïve to think he wouldn't not want to be with her again. Yet the selfish part of me doesn't want to let him go."
"I wouldn't know much about that, but I suppose it's only natural for a child to feel that way towards a parent."
"Do you have kids?"
"No."
"I think you're right though. I just wish Greg could be that understanding too."
"Trouble in paradise I sense?"
Izzy exhaled. "Thank you Mr. Gold for hearing me out," she said, changing the subject to both his dismay and shock. "I really needed that."
She placed her empty cup on the table and rose. "I should go and leave you to what you were doing."
He got up after her and followed her out. Part of him wanted to stop her, to keep her there longer, but he didn't know how to do that. Yet, Fate seemed to answer his wish as her attention was caught by the tea set he had been cleaning earlier.
"It's so beautiful!" Izzy went over and picked up one of the cups, examining closely. "The pattern is so intricate and simple at the same time."
"Oh yes. I expect I would have a customer willing to rip out their own hearts to own a piece such as this."
The statement caught her off guard and as her head whipped in his direction, the cup dropped from her fingertips. Gasping in horror, Izzy bent down to pick it up, her expression in bewildered shock as her lashes flicked up at him.
"It's—It's chipped," she admitted, her lower lip caught in her teeth. "Y-you can hardly see it."
Of course that was a blatant lie. The chip was more of a crack from the rim to about the center. However, Gold surprised himself by not blowing up at the broken cup.
"It's just a cup dearie."
"Yeah but its part of this set… It must be expensive."
He waved his hand nonchalantly. "I actually had no intentions of selling it."
Izzy didn't know if she should be relieved or insistent in her guilt, but she set the cup gingerly back on the tray with the other pieces.
"I guess there's a reason why I don't own a lot of really nice things." She tilted her head. "Are you sure you don't mind me paying? I could buy it or offer to pay to fix it."
"Think nothing of it, my dear," he told her. "I insist."
"If you change your mind—"
"I know where to find you," he finished with a smile. "You have a lot on your plate now. Just do what you feel is the right thing for your father."
She returned his smile. "I will. Thank you Mr. Gold."
As she walked past him to leave, Izzy stopped to hug him. The embrace rocked him to his core, his world off-kilter as he stood there stiff as a rod. She didn't seem to pay it any notice, giving his waist a good squeeze, before gazing up in his face.
"You're a good friend."
Then she stood on her toes, pressing her lips to his cheek. Gold's eyes widened in astonishment as his senses was assaulted with her floral perfume—roses with a hint of vanilla—her lips scorching his flesh as she stepped back. Giving him one last departing look, Izzy left his shop as he remained in his shell shock position.
When he regained the ability to move, he glanced over to the tea set where the chipped cup sat… a goofy smile playing on his thin lips.
That evening he took that cup home with him. It was a nice addition to his collection in the house and despite the damage done to it… it could still hold a decent amount of tea.
xxXXxx
Since that day, Gold and Izzy developed a kind of friendship where she would often stop by to have tea with him. He found himself suddenly opening up to the young woman—telling her about his ex-wife and how she left him for a younger and handsome man with money.
It didn't slip past his radar that as he spoke about his unhappy marriage, Izzy seemed a little uncomfortable, although she never commented on it. Instead, she sided with him in agreeing that Maria was a gold-digger and she sounded like a vile woman from the stories he shared. He wanted to ask her about her marriage, but he never worked up the courage to ask her. He wondered if something was going on that she wasn't saying, and as much as he was dying to know, he respected her silence until she was ready to tell him.
Of course, it didn't mean that it wasn't killing him.
The more he got to know Izzy and Greg Hunter, the more he came to despise the foolish husband. While Gold never liked Greg to begin with, his dislike of him only grew that day when Izzy confided in him about her father's failing health and how her husband preferred watching a sports game instead of taking her feelings into consideration. Gold might have been a selfish bastard himself, but even he knew when to draw a line. Greg, on the other hand, didn't have that kind of censor. And it only drove Gold crazy to know how she could put up with such an idiot.
Surely, she should know that she deserved far better than Greg!
However, Gold made a point with himself not to be too upset on the matter. Izzy spent plenty of time with him and he enjoyed her company, her smiles, her laughter, and the way her eyes seemed to light up as she spoke about a topic that she was passionate about. It was very easy to forget she was married, especially when she wasn't wearing her ring.
As Gold observed beforehand, the stone was too large for her finger and it wasn't long before Izzy began to have pain from wearing it. So she took to wearing it for a short time in the day and when she was dealing with customers at the florist shop. As for the rest of her day, her ring finger would be bare and it delighted him to see the burdensome diamond gone.
Not that he wanted to admit it because of his personal feelings. It was ridiculous to think that someone with dainty hands could support the heavy weight of that stone forever.
As time went by, Gold found his admiration for her growing. She was an intriguing young woman with insight just about everything and she loved reading anything she could get her hands on. This version of Izzy was different from the Izzy he first met. Even though she had her moments of impudence, she was thoughtful and kind and compassionate towards everyone she meets. She once told him it was a gift she inherited from her mother and he had no doubt of it.
She was funny, intelligent, witty, and clumsy—traits he was quickly becoming fond of and as soon as he recognized that he might be feeling something else towards her… Gold knew he was heading into dangerous territory, and for some reason, he didn't stop nor did he care to.
However, he still had a reputation to maintain.
Out in public, neither Gold nor Izzy interacted with each other. It was an unspoken agreement they had since they were certain no one else would understand their friendship. But she still amazed him with her perceptive nature on just how important in keeping his image it was to him.
There was one time he had lunch at Granny's and Izzy got up and moved away like everyone else did as soon as he entered. At first, he was hurt by this, but then he overheard her speaking to her lunch companion and it all made sense.
"Trust me. Crossing Mr. Gold is the last thing on my mind. After I challenged him he made it clear to me what the rules were and I haven't forgotten. He is frightening for a man wielding a cane."
There were words of sympathy for the brave woman, but Gold was touched by this gesture. He didn't know if he should have gone on his knees to thank her or apologize for making her think she had to do this. Of course, he would ruin himself if he did grovel at her feet, but somehow the thought of prostrating before her didn't seem degrading. If anything, he was a little aroused at the idea of him being the lowly servant and she the mistress. Not that he would admit it.
Yet, she didn't seem to mind playing the role as a terrified citizen.
"I guess there is a reason why you developed that feared reputation from the start. I'm not one to judge, but I think I have an idea why you do this and since it matters to you, then I will help you keep that façade."
Oh yes… dangerous territory indeed.
While there was more to Izzy than a beautiful face, Gold wasn't dead or a eunuch contrary to the rumors. He was quite aware that he was old enough to be her father, and even though subconsciously he knew it was wrong, he couldn't help his primal desire for her.
He wasn't a lecherous old man and he didn't prey on the young, and he did strive to ignore his physical attraction to her. It was probably the closest to the honest thing he had ever done by being the friend, and if she needed (which he hoped not) a father figure. And he never once masturbated with thoughts of her, which was hard to do but he had years of practice to ignore those yearnings and it did take time for the urge to eventually go away. Of course, the insolent vixen did make his resolve difficult to keep and he wondered if this was punishment for his past actions.
Nevertheless, as honorable as his intentions were… all propriety was thrown out the door when Izzy came to his shop wearing a white floral lace summer dress with a wide brown belt to accentuate her waist and a pair of wedge sandals with a white ankle strap and a white and tan corded strap around her feet, bringing attention to her brightly painted red toenails. Her hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders, her lips a similar hot red color like her nails, her azure eyes sparkling with mischief as she greeted him.
He vaguely remembered making a choking sound, although his focus zeroed on her pale white ankles and tone legs that stretched forever until they were hidden by the skirt of her dress preventing his greedy gaze of more skin.
"Cat got your tongue?" she teased good-naturedly, though her preening smile implied she was pleased that she reduced him to a gaping fish.
"No. I-I just swallowed some dust mites. Nasty buggers," he covered but she shook her head, her bell-like chuckle caressing his ears. "So, uh, what brings you here today?"
"I wanted to check out more of your antiques. I'm thinking of putting a decorative piece in the foyer, something with character; of course, Greg would rather go to the mart and pick something out of the homes section."
"I believe I have the thing for you then." Gold went into business mode, gesturing for her to follow him as he crossed the shop's floor to one of the shelves behind the counter. The object he had in mind was on the top shelf so he reached for the ladder propped in the corner and placed it against the wall. His cane he left hooked on the counter and before he could start to climb, Izzy put her hand on his shoulder and instantly freezing him.
"I'll climb. You probably shouldn't be putting that much weight on that leg of yours."
Gold began to protest. It was his shop after all and he has done this countless times and who was she to tell him what he can and cannot do…
And holy fuck was that a thong she was wearing?
His eyebrows skyrocketed to the top of his head as Izzy angled herself, her skirt raising just a little to get a glimpse of a scrap of fabric underneath.
"That clock, right? Oh, it's marvelous!"
Her voice snapped him back as he moistened his lips to answer. "Yes."
Izzy stretched out to grab it and as a result… he got more of a look and it was indeed a thong she was wearing. A lacy white thong to match the dress.
How in the world he kept it together long enough to ring the antique clock up for her and wish her a good day… he hadn't the faintest, but he was pretty sure his pupils were dilated from all the blood rushing south.
As soon as the door closed, the limp in his gait was more pronounced as he walked over to it and flipped the closed sign and slid the bolt lock in before retreating to the back room. What followed after… he had no control over it as he was indisposed for fifteen minutes.
And another twenty minutes at home.
xxXXxx
He didn't know when it happened, but Gold woke up one day and discovered he had feelings for Izzy Hunter.
He wouldn't dare say it was love. He was incapable of that emotion.
Lust? Yes. Adoration? Of course.
He cared for her.
Never in his adult life for as long as he could remember had he actually cared for someone. He didn't much care for Maria only that she warmed his bed. Even his outrage at her for leaving him wasn't due to any kindling affections. They spoke vows to each other and those words were just as binding as his contracts and he always upheld his deals.
Yet, Izzy was different.
He actually cared for her opinions, her smiles, her bubbling laughter, and whenever she seemed down… he did his best to make her smile. Seeing her sorrowful or upset was not acceptable. She should be happy always, but it wasn't always the case.
He knew immediately that her father had a bad day when she came in for their teatime. Her lips would be pressed firmly together in a straight line, her eyes would be brimming with tears, and her hands would be fidgeting as a distraction to keep the tears at bay. She never once cried in front of him. All she needed was his silent presence and before he knew it… she would be all smiles again.
Then came a day when she did cry.
Gold was in the backroom pouring over the accounting books to tally up the profits for the quarter when he heard the bell ringing. He wasn't paying attention to the time and figured the person could wait until he was done with his task.
"M-Mr. G-Gold?" the feminine voice stammered. It was soft, too soft in fact that he almost didn't recognize the owner until he heard a loud sob.
Grabbing his cane to hoist himself from his chair, he pushed aside the curtain and was stunned to see Izzy looking so lost in the middle of his shop.
"Mrs. Hunter… What—"
"Please," she pleaded. "Call me Izzy. Or Isabelle. Whichever you prefer but please don't call me that."
Immediately, he was alarmed by this uncharacteristic display. "Isabelle," he decided on, still not a fan of the nickname. "What is the matter?"
Rocking on the balls of her feet, she stared at her hands interlaced and for a second… she looked like she wasn't sure if she would talk to him.
"It's your father again, isn't it?" Gold assumed. "Isabelle, the man is stubborn. I doubt there will be anything else you can do."
"Y-you're right. There isn't." Her features were flushed and there were wet tracks on her cheeks. "H-he's gone."
"My condolences," was the first thing that popped out of his mouth and he inwardly winced at how mundane it sounded. Then again… he wasn't exactly close to Moe French and he hardly knew the man. Case in point—he didn't know Moe had a daughter in the first place. In addition, the notion of grief was foreign to him. He didn't remember losing anyone or what it was to mourn or anything that society deems as a social norm when it came to deceased loved ones. Common sense told him he should say something meaningful, something that would bring comfort, but he didn't know exactly what he could say that would be comforting.
At the same time, he was a bit baffled why she would be here in his shop of all places after her father just passed.
"Forgive me but... shouldn't you be with your husband at this time? Friends?"
Izzy let out a derisive snort. "Greg? He's as comforting as a bowl of nails. His idea is to get piss ass drunk and watch a hockey game."
"What happened to football?"
"Season's over. Hockey's in."
"I'm sorry." He really meant it. He may not have much interaction with other people, but he had the decency to know that there was a young woman grieving and could use her husband to lean on.
Instead, she came to the town's beast for sympathy.
"You're more than welcome to stay. I'll be in the back doing some work."
Gold left her alone so she could gather her thoughts until she was well enough to return home to that useless prig.
The last thing he expected was for her to follow him in, a pensive knot in her brow as she studied him closely. Then in a short couple of steps, Izzy sealed the distance with her arms wrapped around the back of his head, her face tilted upwards as she pressed her lips to his.
It lasted a couple of seconds but it was the best two seconds of his life.
His olfactory senses were in major overload as Izzy's rose perfume wafted through his nostrils; her soft luscious lips caressing his, her nails lightly scratching the nape of his neck.
As quickly as it started, she broke away. A cross of mortification and incredulity appeared on her face, her fingers flying to her mouth.
"I'm sorry Mr. Gold. I'm—" She didn't finish her sentence, turning and running out as fast as she could.
He stared at her retreating back even when she was out of sight. His trembling hand moving to his mouth in the same spot she touched her own. He could still taste her—cherry and that unique flavor that was strictly Isabelle. He looked down at his fingers; a tiny dot of red from her lipstick came off.
That was the physical evidence he needed to know it was real.
She kissed him.
Isabelle Hunter kissed him! Mr. Gold! The most feared man in all of Storybrooke and she kissed him on the lips.
And, damn, it felt so right in that brief period of time.
And he wanted to experience it again.
xxXXxx
The funeral took place a few days later.
It had been a small affair seeing that Izzy and her husband were the only surviving family members. Several of their friends and a couple of Moe's acquaintances also showed up to the service, even Dr. Hopper was there to offer his support. Of course, the surprise attendee of all was Mayor Mills, but that infuriating woman stuck her nose in everyone's business so it was no wonder she would show up at a funeral too.
Gold came as well, though he kept himself away from the group of mourners. He didn't want to intrude on a personal and private moment. At least… that was what he told to convince himself it wasn't because he wanted to see Izzy. Yet, his eyes kept straying towards her figure and he found himself longing to be next to her.
He wanted it to be his arm that was around her waist, his shoulder that her head was lying upon.
Not that good for nothing husband of hers.
Gold scowled, glaring at the incognizant man for comforting Izzy. He didn't seem to realize how saddened she was or how much this meant to her when he kept sneaking glances at his watch and rolling his eyes upwards.
His fist clenched around the golden handle of his cane.
As a husband he should have at least made an effort to appear grief-stricken. If he was her husband…
He stopped the thought from finishing.
He wasn't and he was a sour old man who was monstrous and twisted to stalk a defenseless and anguished young woman.
Christ, he was sick.
Reverend Dale ended the eulogy and as the mourners paid their respects to the deceased and the living relatives… they went their separate ways.
Gold couldn't help the low growl emancipating from his throat as Regina approached the bereaving Izzy. His cane shook as the mayor enfolded her arms around her, hugging her tight. He couldn't make out what was being said, but he wouldn't be surprised if it was something along the lines such as…
"Your father was a great man. He will surely be missed. Call me if you need anything. Do not hesitate. Is that clear?"
Goddamned rubbernecker is what she was and Gold wanted her away from his woman.
His woman?
He blinked at the thought. While the idea sounded wonderful to him, he knew it was wishful thinking since she kissed him.
On its own volition, his eyes closed as he swayed in remembrance of that day in the backroom of his shop. Her full, soft lips pressing against his, her taste mixing with his in his mouth, the warm and softness of her body also pressing against his gaunt chest, her curves fitting deliciously in his arms…
"Fuck!" His eyes snapped open as another part of him twitched from the memory. He was lucky that no one spotted him still, but if they had… they would be appalled to see he was sporting the trouser salute at a funeral.
Christ, he really was pathetic.
And all over a kiss too…
He cast one more look at the beauty before he swiveled around and limped back to his car. Even as he drove home, he kept reminding himself that she was distraught and she was only looking for solace since her husband's head was too far up his arse to notice. The kiss meant nothing to her. She probably would have kissed any available man if he showed any inkling of kindness to her distress. Of course, the thought of any other man kissing her sent his ire aflame, the green-eyed beast within him roaring to make its claim.
But he was being ridiculous.
She was married and he was an old man who couldn't control his ardor over a beautiful creature.
She didn't want him.
No one wanted him.
Putting the car in park, Gold got out and went to the front door. Once inside, he began to remove his coat and suit jacket, leaving him in his burgundy dress shirt and charcoal gray tie and pants. Going into the kitchen, he made some tea and heated up a frozen dinner, not being in the mood to cook.
His meal ready to eat… Gold sat at his kitchen table and ate in silence. His hand reached for his cup when a knock disturbed him, almost dropping the cup on the table. He listened quietly and figured he imagined it; he went back to his dinner when the knocking picked up again.
This time the rapping sounded urgent.
Wondering who on earth could it be and whoever it was going to get hit over the head for disrupting him, Gold grabbed his cane and wobbled to the door.
All preconceived thoughts of bludgeoning fled as Isabelle stood on his porch. She gazed at him hopefully and a little remorseful as she played with the fabric of her black dress.
"Hi," she said.
"Hey," he said back.
"C-could I—Could I come in? It's a little chilly," she sheepishly admitted and his eyes widened at his stupidity. Of course, she had to be cold! She only had a poor excuse of a shrug on over her dress.
"Thank you," she said a splash of pink spreading on her cheeks. "I left my coat in Greg's car."
"Did you… did you walk here?" he asked in disbelief.
"I needed the fresh air," Izzy admitted. "And the company wasn't desirable." Her tone was flat, but there was no denying she was referring to only one man. "I saw you there. At the funeral."
Gold's spine stiffened and he tried to shake it away. "I was merely passing through. I didn't stay."
"That's not true," Izzy insisted, following as he walked into his parlor. "You were there for most of the service. I was wondering why you didn't join us."
"I didn't want to intrude," he murmured, his eyes riveted to the floor. "Please sit."
She accepted his gesture and sat on the settee. Gold sat too in a chair to the left of her. A couple of minutes in silence passed between them until Izzy cleared her throat.
"You have a nice home."
"Thank you."
The small talk kept its limits to the décor of the Victorian house, but it was evident to the both that there was something else on their minds that they wanted to talk about… however, they were lacking the courage to be the first to speak up.
At last, Izzy made the first move.
"Mr. Gold, the other day at your shop—"
Fearful and anxious to hear what she had to say, Gold beat her to it. "It's all right. You were upset and you had a lapse in judgment."
"Excuse me?" She frowned.
Sighing, Gold kept his eyes glued to his cane. "I know who I am in this town as do you. I also know that in your grief… you weren't in the best state of mind and the kiss was nothing more than to help you forget. You need not apologize."
"I'm not—I wasn't…" she trailed off, shaking her head to gather her thoughts, Izzy gave him a pointed look. "You actually think I wasn't in the right state of mind when I kissed you?"
"How else can you explain it?" Gold argued. "You wanted to?"
"Yes." That one word… so simple yet carried so heavy a response that Gold felt all the air in his lungs whooshed right out.
She couldn't possibly mean…?
Crossing her ankles over, Izzy laid her hands in her lap in a demure manner as she calmly explained herself in what was a surreal and bizarre moment in Gold's life. She spoke so casually as if they were conversing about the weather.
"I have been thinking about it a lot lately, but I was too afraid that maybe you didn't feel the same way. Then when my father died… I had this crazy thought. It kept bugging me as I walked to your shop: do the brave thing and bravery will follow. I know I was putting a lot at stake, in particular losing your good graces and friendship, but it was a risk I was willing to take. And losing my father made me realize how short life was and I couldn't live with the what-ifs unless I change. I can only imagine what you think of me… a married woman intentionally kissing another man. I swear I'm not that kind of person. I'm not. But I wanted to know what it would be like to choose to do something that I wanted rather than what someone else wants. I wanted to do something that would make me happy, even for a fleeting moment."
At this, her voice wavered with emotion. She waited for him to say something, but Gold was too stunned, too dumbfounded to speak. Sensing his silence must be due to his abhorrence, Izzy hastily continued.
"I know I must sound like some silly, foolish girl and maybe I am… but you have no idea what kind of life I've been leading. You're the only person I ever felt truly comfortable with and it killed me that I wasn't being completely honest with you while you were so nice to me. I thought that our tea time chats would be enough, even the days when you came to collect the rent, I just had a little slice of happiness to be content with until the next time. But it wasn't. I wanted more, craved more. I understand if you never wanted to see me again and I can accept that. I only wanted you to know that I like you. Really like you."
Getting no response, Izzy's lips quivered as she forced a smile. "I-I'll see myself out. Goodbye Mr. Gold."
"Wait." He moved his cane to block her from leaving. Looking up at her, he saw that the carefully placed mask she had worn was cracking and exposed was a nervous girl trembling in her shoes with such desperation that only he could make or break her. "Sit."
He wasn't kicking her out. He wanted her to stay.
Obediently, Izzy sat back down, her countenance showing a glimpse of hope. Yet, Gold still had a hard time believing that this was real.
"I don't understand…" he began. "I thought you and your husband were…" he choked here, "happy together."
"We're not," she replied flatly. "Not for a long time anyways."
"There are rough patches now and then…"
"Not like this," Izzy interjected. "Greg and I… we're so different. We have little in common."
Now this revelation was interesting. "Then why did you?"
"In the beginning, I said no. True, he just won the lottery and I didn't want others to think it was because of the money, even though we were dating beforehand. And the dates were fine, but when he proposed… I didn't get that giddy feeling that most women should get. I knew in my gut that Greg wasn't for me. Then when Papa started having trouble… He always liked Greg. They got along really well and when I told him that Greg proposed… my father was upset that I didn't say yes."
In her best imitation, she deepened her voice as she spoke, "'Why would you turn him down Izzy? He can support you, make sure you're well taken care of, and he loves you so much. I just want to make sure you're going to be all right. I won't live forever Izzy. I want to see my baby girl married and with a man I approve. Please reconsider before you turn him down for good.'"
She shrugged. "I liked Greg well enough and I figured I would eventually fall in love with him. People do it all the time so why not us? Plus, I knew it would make Papa happy. So I accepted and when Papa started to get worse we moved to Storybrooke so I could be closer to him. He was so happy that we married that I thought maybe this could work. Greg was attentive, helpful, and I knew it was just me that was the problem. So I did the very best I could to be the perfect wife for Greg and the depiction of happiness for my father. As long as I knew my father was happy and was pleased that all was well, and then I figured things would work it out. There were good days and then there were days that I wished I could go back and do things differently. Nevertheless, I tried to make it work. I really did but Greg and I had all these differences and then I started to see the real side of him. He didn't like me working at the shop because I should be home playing the happy homemaker, unless it was Rent Day. Then I was allowed to be there to deal with you. Other than that, I should clean, cook, and fetch whatever his heart desired. To him that was how a real wife should be. It was like… he changed into this horrible person all of a sudden. It was like I never really knew him at all. And I was stuck, chained to obey his whims. To be honest, I was surprised I was even allowed to walk around without wearing a collar so everyone knew who I belonged to."
"And your father never knew this?" Gold's voice took on a bit of an edge, his anger aroused.
"No," Izzy admitted albeit ashamed. "I tried to tell him but he was so sick and he looked so happy whenever he saw Greg and me… I couldn't break his heart."
"That worthless piece of shit." Gold's shoulders shook as he got to his feet, while his grip on his cane was steady. "You shouldn't have to live like that. Why… I will go down there and give him a piece of my mind—"
"No!" Izzy jumped up, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "Believe it or not, Greg does love me in his own way. He has never been outright cruel and he has never laid a hand on me. He just thinks that's how a marriage is. That was how he was brought up."
"That's a piss poor excuse if I ever heard one," Gold snarled. "He's suffocating you and you're defending him."
"It's not ideal, okay? I know but it's not all bad. Despite his reaction to Papa's death and the funeral... Greg isn't a super emotional guy and situations like these do make him uncomfortable. Does he handle it correctly? No. But I can't hold that against him. It's the kind of person he is and I have learned to deal with it."
"Well, your father is gone now and there is no reason why you need to stay married to him," Gold said.
Her eyes slipped closed as she inhaled. "I wish it's simple as that, but I would be blindsiding him if I told him I wanted a divorce. He isn't a bad person and he has done so much for us… he saved my father's shop from going completely under. I couldn't repay him by leaving him in the dust."
"But you will stay willingly in an unwanted marriage?" he asked incredulously. "Because you feel indebted?"
"Mr. Gold," she said softly. "I made my decision when I married Greg. It's a promise I intend to keep no matter how unconventional it may seem. But now do you see why I kissed you? Why I wanted to?"
Breathing sharply, Gold stared deeply into her blue eyes. "Yes."
"Good because there is something else I want to say." Licking her lips, she sidled closer to him, her hand slipping down to cover his on his cane. "You have been on my mind. Constantly distracting me and when I'm with Greg… I imagine it's you in my bed."
He couldn't suppress the shudder as her voice dropped a couple of octaves, her accent a raspy seduction. "Please give me this moment. Let me be happy with you. That's all I want… Please… Gold…"
It was the whisper of his name, tickling his ear, a desperate plea that he was too weak to ignore. A stronger man would have resisted, would have argued she was going about this all wrong, but Gold had spent far too long fantasizing and lusting after her to think clearly. And it didn't help that she was pressing up against him that caused his sanity to shatter into a million little pieces.
He smashed his lips to hers—the time to be gentle was thrown out the door and this was pure want and lust that was fueling into their kiss. He wasn't a good man… never pretended to be and this was another fine example that he was putting his selfish desires first.
But, of course, he didn't give a cuntybuggeryfucktoleybumshite damn when her tongue was snaking around his and her fingernails were scratching the nape of his neck in… that… spot…
He growled, the rumble sounding almost threatening, but he gave it as good as he got by sucking her lower lip between his teeth, biting and pulling on the fleshy part as his tongue dipped into her gasping mouth taking control of the kiss. When the need to breathe became too much, Gold let her lip go with a plop before dragging his lips down her elegant neck.
He found a sensitive spot that made her breath catch and a low moan burst from her as he sucked the bit of skin at the slope of her neck and shoulder. Her head was falling back as she arched further into his demanding and relentless mouth and teeth as he bit down hard at the juncture causing her to scream his name. His tongue laved the spot to ease the sting, but he couldn't suppress the smirk that he made her react like that.
And they hadn't even taken their clothes off yet.
His cane was gone and with his Isabelle—yes, his even for this moment—in his arms they managed to make it into the hallway where Gold slammed her against the wall, his hand on the zipper of her dress, yanking it down to expose more of her delectable and tasty skin for his exploration.
The dress gave way and fell to the floor without argument as Isabelle stepped out of it, kicking the offending garment away. Gold roared his approval as he cupped her lacy-clad breasts, his nose nuzzling the valley as he groped and squeezed the mounds with increasing pressure. The little noises he was eliciting from her spurred him on as he peppered kisses between nipping at the tops of her breasts. He dug his fingers behind her, searching for the clasp, and with one impatient tug… the material loosened and he ripped it from her so he could feast more upon her.
He wanted to mark her… to make her remember that she was in his arms, that he was giving her this pleasure, that later on when she touched her raw and sensitive breasts she would remember that it was his mouth that suckled them, his fingers that pinched her nipples hard.
There was a loud thud and as he broke his lavish attention on her… it was to see that her head hit the wall, her eyes screwed shut and her mouth panting in a round "o." Discerning she was all right, Gold went back to his ministrations alternating between each breast with his mouth and hand. He was quickly becoming addicted to her and he loved how one full mound filled his palm perfectly.
Gold quickly squashed the notion what that means… the idea of romance had no business here, not when this was fucking in its rawest emotions.
His brief distraction gave Isabelle the opportunity to divest him of his tie and when her fingers started on his buttons… Gold grabbed her wrists and forced them back against the wall above her head. The look on his face was feral—his eyes, a soft brown, were now a primitive black; his lip curled to the side, showing his teeth, which almost appeared sharp and pointy like a wild animal. It didn't help that she had mussed his hair, making the gray and dark ends stick out like an unkempt mane.
He was absolutely beastlike—the monster of Storybrooke—and it was the first time Isabelle took notice that he did live up to his nickname.
However, unlike the fear that it usually inspired, it only made her wetter and hotter for him.
And he did take note of it when one intruding finger poked into her underwear, the digit rubbing her as another gush of wetness pooled at her legs. His grin could only be described as wolfish as he brought his finger to his lips, sucking it inside to taste her juices.
Isabelle whimpered and squirmed in his embrace, but he wasn't going to show her any mercy.
"Ah, so the beauty truly does desire the beast," he cooed, his brogue thickening and taunting her. "What would they think? That the prim and proper Isabelle Hunter is sopping her knickers for a man twice her age, the town monster." He stuck his finger down there this time inserting the tip of his finger while encased with her panties inside her, groaning as her inner muscles tried to clamp down on him. "They would be thinking nasty things, dearie. Such nasty terrible things that this beast could do to a sweet, defenseless girl."
The last statement he punctuated each word with a teasing graze, his hot breath washing over her ear.
"And they wouldn't be wrong," he spoke in that promising lure that Isabelle nearly came undone with just the sound of his voice.
She let out a surprised squeal as the silken panties were ripped from her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head realizing he was right.
He really was a beast…
Instead of dropping to his knees, which she expected he would do, completely forgetting he had a bad knee, Gold led her to the stairs but not to go up… he pushed her so she was sprawled on top of them. Isabelle watched from half-lidded eyes, her tongue moistening her lips, as Gold undid his belt and began to unzip his pants. He was already hard… had been from the moment she walked into his home, her tantalizing perfume clouding his senses, and it only grew worse when she admitted she wanted him.
Now, his pants were at his feet, his boxers joining them, as he carefully stretched on top of her, using the lower step as leverage to take the weight off his bad leg. Isabelle barely had the chance to get a better appreciative look at him, but she could feel him as his cock bobbed and rubbed her, letting her know she was in for a ride.
She hardly prepared herself as Gold thrust deeply into her, but it didn't matter as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, encouraging him to move deeper and harder.
The moment he entered her… Gold lost all control of himself, the only thoughts of take echoing in his head as he pounded into her. It never occurred to him the position maybe uncomfortable, but Isabelle didn't seem to mind as her nails dug into his back, her pants and moans telling him that he was getting it right, right there, and oh yes…
It wasn't long before he exploded inside her and after a couple of more hardened thrusts… Isabelle followed after. They lay together like that, boneless and exhausted, the loud drumming of their hearts and the harsh gasps filling the quiet room. Only when her back started to protest that they began to untangle their limbs from each other.
Gold helped her up on shaky legs as she wobbled to the pile of her clothes. Wordlessly, Isabelle dressed while he fixed himself, part of him suddenly too nervous to look at her. He had been rough with her, and in the heat of the moment it hadn't matter, but as the sobering truth hit him… he cringed at his beastliness.
"Mr. Gold?"
He forced himself to look at her, to see what his insatiable lust did, but instead of finding a remorseful woman, Isabelle was the poster child of a debauched woman who thoroughly enjoyed herself: mouth swollen and bright red, flushed complexion, neck sporting pink splotches from his attention, hair mussed, and azure eyes looking positively sated.
Suffice to say… she looked like she could go for another round.
Yet, her presence was required for the obligated post-funeral dinner and if she was gone for too long, then it would be a matter of time before anyone traced her whereabouts. And neither one of them wanted this—whatever it was—to end soon.
"Thank you. I'll see you around?" she asked, her eyes glistening with the prospect of another encounter.
He found himself returning her crooked smile. "As you wish."
TBC…