This was awkward. Really, really awkward. Mary Margaret loved Belle, and she thought it was adorable how hard her boss, Mr. Gold, worked to come off as cool and suave around the young artist. He'd taken to propping his door open at 2:50 each afternoon, in anticipation of her arrival. He had her rush dry-cleaning on shirts and ties that Belle commented on. He never, ever assigned her to do any of Belle's shopping, preferring to place the orders himself. Mary Margaret wasn't even sure he knew that he was doing it, which made it all the more endearing.
Not that it stopped him from being a bastard, but it went a long way towards making him more human.
Nothing had prepared her, however, for the sounds that were now drifting out of his office. It was a toss-up. She didn't know whether to be happy for Belle, because for some reason that she would never understand Mr. Gold made her happy, or if she should run full-stop into David's office and beg him to intervene. Shouldn't someone save Belle from Mr. Gold? Or if not from him, then at least save her from herself.
It was painfully obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that she'd been smitten with the older man for some time. Mr. Gold was less obvious about his infatuation, so much so that most people believed he was in it for the quick gratification. Mary Margaret knew, or suspected that she knew, better than to judge Mr. Gold by his tempers. When Belle was with him, it was like looking at an entirely different person.
If she walked in there, or sent David in to "accidentally" break them up, her boss would flay her alive. Still, it would be a hell of a lot easier to stand by and let them be – Mary Margaret had a pretty good idea that they'd graduated from tea – if she didn't also hear the faintest echoes of thumps and moaning through Mr. Gold's typically ineffective sound-proofing.
Anthony's bad leg was already shaky, but he didn't care. Belle was staying. Belle was his, and he was finally able to have her exactly as he'd fantasized. The pain kept him focused, gave him something to think about other than the wantonly passionate woman seated on his hastily cleared wet-bar.
She must be trying to kill him, it was the only reasonable explanation for the absolute joy he felt at her every moan and sigh.
His jacket and tie had gone away, her panties vanished and her bra was half un-made; he had Belle's hem pushed up high, and she'd ripped at least one of his shirt buttons off in her haste. She deserved slow, seductive and sweet, and some day she would have it – if only she'd stop dragging her teeth over his ear lobe and tugging the hair at his nape.
With the table to support her weight, Gold was free to focus himself entirely on touching and kissing every inch of her that he could reach. Already he had fingers pressed up against her tenderest spots, and would have knelt down to kiss them hello properly if his leg wouldn't have prevented him from getting back up again.
Belle was everything a society woman wasn't supposed to be – she was emotional, natural, sweet, and oh dear lord above she was going to destroy him before they even got started if she didn't stop wrapping her legs around his hips and urging him on with her feet.
He could feel her in his hands, dripping and grinding, and over the rush of blood quickly leaving his brain he thought he even heard her moaning his name. She was close. She had to be close, because not bringing her off was not an option.
When her body started trembling and he felt her walls contracting around his fingers, he slammed himself into her to feel the sensations. The sudden penetration was what she'd been craving, and it sent her hips bucking wildly. He was a breath away from joining her, but he managed to hold himself off and started thrusting into her earnestly.
Age had its advantages, he knew; where a young man might think a woman's pleasure came in a quick burst and finish, Mr. Gold knew once he got Belle started there was no reason she couldn't keep going for as long as he had the stamina to make her. With hard, firm thrusts that set the decanters and cabinets rattling, and with a liberal application of his lips, hands, and teeth, Gold felt himself growling at her neck while her body matched his speed.
Mine. Mine. Mine. His poor little gypsy, now he'd never have the strength to let her go free. The first man who tried to take her away or even looked like he might was going to be in a world of pain.
"Oh God, Belle..." Her legs pulled him in tighter, and he knew that he'd found a spot deep inside of her that she liked from the frantic kisses and sharp nails digging into his back side.
"Anthony..."
Belle's head was tossed back, her hair tousled beautifully, and she wore his love bites up and down her neck. When he felt her body become deliciously, impossibly tight around his cock and heard her moaning his name, his stiff leg wasn't enough to distract him any more. Clinging to each other, tangled up and touching, Gold joined in her delight. It hit him so hard, he thought he might have died. His body rode it out with wild, involuntary thrusts and Belle was kissing him so sweetly that nothing else in the world could possibly matter as long as she stayed by his side.
