Part Two: The Bitch in the Red Dress
A chance too late.
An unexpected date.
An admission that damns them both.
Whispering Pines- 2010
One week, a simple exchange of intel. One week, a game. He'd find a map with a little scavenger hunt and discover a clue that led him to a hotel where she'd leave a bottle of scotch and a pair of her panties. He'd leave a small tape recorder with a song that reminded him of her - one time it was She's Like the Wind - the next it was Bad Reputation. Ada laughed and left a kiss on a bottle of Remy Martin and a phone number for a woman who had after market B.O.W.S. being created in a lab in Munich. He left her a location for a fake sale so she could follow the money man back to a buyer and a tape with the song Rehab.
Ada upped the game and left him a recording of her masturbating with just enough video for him to glimpse a shadow of her breast. Amused, he left her a single red rose. The moment she opened the locker, she froze. Games were one thing, romance was another. She left him a simple one line note - Be careful what you wish for.
For three weeks, the box was empty after that. He knew what was happening, she was punishing him for attempting romance. He placed a single photograph of her in black and white on the edge of the Mississippi river and a date with a location. He waited, she never showed, but she left a letter from a head of Tricell that pinpointed a drop of biological agents in Madrid. Apparently, the game was over and it was just business.
Annoyed, he was nearly thick with irritation when a familiar voice called to him.
Claire.
She waved from where she emerged from a cab, laughing. She was on some kind of layover from a conference in Wombat Junction. They had dinner. They had a drink. They had a few laughs.
When Claire placed her hand on his knee under the table, he had a moment to decide how this ended for them. He could take her home, fuck her, and probably find some kind of happiness there. Claire was beautiful, intelligent, good and maternal. She'd want to have his children and love him forever.
To test himself, he caught her chin and leaned down to kiss her. She responded, gripping his jacket to close her eyes and go up on her tiptoes. She smelled good, like lilac and sweet cinnamon buns.
When they parted, she cooed, "...I-I don't do this...but I have a room...upstairs at the Mercer...suite 302b...if you think...?"
She was sweet.
He'd thought that the night they met. He'd wanted her, like a boy wants a girl with boobs and a great ass. He wanted her now, like a man wants a woman who is simple, sweet, and without drama.
He couldn't look at her without seeing Ada's face.
Annoyed, he did something he never had before - he declined. "I can't...I have an early flight to Zurich."
Surprised, Claire nodded rapidly. "Right. Hah. Stupid anyway, right? With what we do? Who has time for romance?"
He drummed his fingers on the table. Claire flushed a little and shrugged, "Some other time, huh?"
He started to change his mind. He thought - what if this was his chance at happiness? What if, somehow, the universe was telling him to forget Ada and take a chance on something real? He'd resented Claire, quietly, for years since she'd left him behind. What if he took that resentment and leveraged it into a lifetime together?
What if he just took that resentment and used it to fuck her bowlegged and leave her like she'd left him once?
The vindictive thought was more Ada than him. It left him a little dizzy where he sat. He wasn't the guy who did that, not to someone he respected. He would never use a woman who was someone he considered a potential friend and discard her like garbage. He wasn't that cold.
Or was he?
Was it possible that he'd somehow inherited a penchant for revenge?
Was he really a good guy under it all?
He started to accept her offer and see where it landed them when the waitress arrived and handed him a note. A simple little slip of paper with a single kiss on it. The second he opened it, he knew he wouldn't be going to bed with Claire.
He rose from the table and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She looked mollified but a little remorseful as he told her, "...some other time...good to see you, Claire."
She waved to him as he left the restaurant. He turned the corner beside it and found himself in an alley. After about four steps into the dark, he knew he wasn't alone. Int the foggy air, he mused, "...you used to be better at tracking someone."
He turned, curled his back, and the leg she threw at him went right over where he'd been. Rising, he caught her throat and shoved her against the wall. Ada's teeth flashed white as her gloved hands gripped into his leather coat. His breath puffed out white and pretty.
Her voice was more of a gasp, "...how was your date?"
His lip curled up in a smirk, "...why?...you jealous?"
She didn't answer. She just told him, "...I brought your damn flower back."
The light from the street lamps reflected in his eyes. He leaned close until their noses brushed and said between his teeth, "Keep it. It's yours."
Softly, she wondered, "And what about you?"
She was something else. He was tired of her games. He was half obsessed with her, half in hatred of her, half in love with her - three halves were impossible, and yet there he was. His left hand gripped a handful of her hair, the other squeezed around her throat. Ada inhaled sharply, eyes flashing alot of white as they rolled a little. Her lips parted and her heart thumped against his chest where he pinned her.
He growled, "...I'm not yours...I never was."
She let their lips brushed and challenged, "...yes, you are...you just don't like it."
His teeth flashed, his hands tightened, and she told him, "...you can kill me, Leon, but it won't make it any less true. Dead, I'll simply haunt you forever."
Angry, he warned her in a hiss between his hardened jaws, "Stop fucking with me, you bitch, or I'll test that goddamn theory. What do you want, Ada? A friend? A playmate? A toy? What is this?"
She brushed their lips again and purred, "...it's fun...don't you agree?"
He shoved her away. She hit the wall and gasped, shaking with some kind of excitement. Leon stalked through the cold and left her there, leaning on the brick and licking her lips like a cat who'd caught the mouse to feast.
Bitch.
He liked the game, in one hand. He enjoyed the cat and mouse, when he was the cat. She was making damn sure he was aware he was the goddamn prey here. He was tired of her jerking him around and riling him up. Why did he let her?
He should go back and get Claire and take her. If he took her, maybe he'd forget Ada and get on with his life. He cut left through the heavy traffic and circled around to the Mercer Hotel. The elevator to the third floor seemed to take forever.
The best way to purge the need for a bitch was to take another. Claire was a good girl, not the type you fucked and forgot about. He was going to take her and keep her, something he never did. He was going to give a real relationship a shot.
He was done chasing red panties all over the world to sniff them like a pathetic fool.
His hand lifted and knocked on the room door. 302b - a number that would change his life. He'd simply offer Claire the world. It was an ugly, fractured, failure of a world, but maybe she'd want it.
Maybe she'd want his world instead of trying to run it.
He heard her coming toward the door to open it.
The one across the hall opened - Suite 302a. He turned his head and the hands in the back of his jacket tugged. He let them pull him into the dark room. The door closed just as Claire's opened and she frowned in confusion into the empty hallway.
In the dark room, Ada pressed him against the wall.
He resisted her, turning his head as she fisted his jacket and rose to kiss him. He shook his head, denying her. Ignoring that, she reached for his jacket and jerked it down his arms. He let that happen. He let it fall to the floor. He let her fingers settle on the front of his shirt and jerk, scattering buttons around the floor like tiny bits of shrapnel.
She put her face against his chest like a cat scent marking, licking down his belly until he grabbed her by the chin and the back of her hair and lifted her up again, arms bunching, head shaking: no.
Ada grabbed for his belt as he held her face. She whipped the leather free and reached for the zipper. He let her, teeth clenched, eyes locked. She slid her hand into his jeans to locate his dick and he grabbed her arms to shove her against the wall. It wasn't easy. She hit hard and gasped, mouth trembling.
She kept one hand in his pants, found him, and fisted the length of him. Her other hand grabbed a handful of his hair so she could lick his throat. He grunted, groaned, and thrust his hips into her hand. Amorous, her mouth nipped and nibbled, her fingers pulled and groped.
He thrust her into the wall again and almost begged her, "...stop. Just...stop."
Her hand on his dick stilled. Her mouth stopped sucking at his throat like a vampire. She turned his face to her to look at him with the handle made of his hair. He gave her a drowning look and urged hoarsely, "...stop."
Softly, Ada wondered, "...you'd rather be with her?"
He thumped her back against the wall again, softer now, and their noses brushed, "...I'd rather be with someone who wants to be with me. I don't want this."
She tilted her head. The heavy, slick, sticky length of him in her fist made a liar out of that. He groaned when she slid her palm up and down to test him. "...stop, Ada...just...I can't do this. I can't do this."
The second time he said it, he sounded more sure. He reached down to take her hand out of his hands and pressed it against her belly. He held her against the wall with a flat palm on her chest.
Surprised, she watched him reject her.
He held her there and took three deep breaths. "...this is done, Ada. Alright? We're done. You can't have me just to keep someone else from it. I'm not a toy."
He let go of her and zipped up his pants. As he knelt to pick up his jacket, she caught his ruined shirt in one hand and the side of his face in the other. Something on her face made him murmur, "...don't."
She turned him toward her. She kissed him, softly, mouth to mouth. It was gentle somehow, sweet even, and she did it again when he warned, "...don't."
Shaking her head, she turned him toward her and confessed, "...you're not a toy...and this is what jealousy looks like. Stop fighting me...and just...what do you want from me?"
Angry, he simply said, "...anything but this."
She kissed him again - smooth and soft. He dropped the coat and turned completely into her. His left hand tunneled softly into her hair at the back of her hair and his other caught her face to turn it up to him. She backed up as he kissed her, hunching just a little until he could catch her and lift her against his front. Her feet dangled as her hands echoed and tunneled into his hair.
It was stupid. It couldn't end well. He knew it was probably another game - one she was playing with his heart. He didn't care. He just wanted her.
She let him lay her back on the bed in the light from the open bathroom. He took her boots and her leggings. He lifted her to take her panties and her arms rose to let him take her dress. The bra released between her breasts and he tugged it up and off her.
Ada kept her arms over her head and let him touch her.
It was almost fascinating. He started at her feet and went up the inside of her left leg. He kissed and touched her, stroking skin and making it sing somehow. She reached for him and he shook his head until she laid her arms back and was still.
Hips and thigh, breasts and belly, arms and throat - he touched her everywhere, tracing the satiny lines of her flesh as if she were a canvas and he the brush that brought her beauty to life. She watched him shed his boots and pants. He rolled her to her belly and worshiped down her back. Her skin turned velvety with need and attention.
The delicate slope of spine, the delicious curve of her ass - he kissed and adored, gliding his hands and lips down and over her until goosebumps pebbled sweetly on her succulent skin. When he guided her to her hands and knees, she let him and the cup of his palms and fingers around her breasts made them peak with pleasure. She leaned back against him, letting his hands cup and mold, letting his mouth leave marks against the swan like arch of her throat.
Her head turned to kiss him over her shoulder. His hand slid down and cupped her groin. He held her to him with a hand gently palming her breasts, and used the other to please her. She was warm and moist when he started, and slick and wet when he simply guided her into the orgasm that waited and eased her over it. Her body tensed, Ada gasped and opened her mouth for his tongue.
She rode his hand over the first wave. Her body dewed and damped around his delving fingers. She felt him shift against her back and he caught the sound of her surrender as his dick replaced his fingers. Her body opened, the walls of her welcoming him with a pulsing embrace. She collapsed back against him, giving her entire weight over. Her arms lifted and one looped at his neck, the other joined his at her groin to stroke her body while he fucked her.
Fuck.
it was the wrong word.
She was afraid it was the wrong action.
Part of her wanted to say - stop. Like he had, like he wanted, stop before it became something it shouldn't. She opened her mouth to say it, and he rolled her to her back. Her thighs opened, her hands gathered his above her head. He took away her temporary confusion and stroked into her until she simply gave up and let him lay claim to her. Before she could stop it, she moaned his name.
Whatever he'd needed, that was it. His rhythm increased, faster, harder. She grabbed for his face and he echoed it. He kissed her, eyes open, watching her fight against her own needs and fail. She whined, something like fear gripped her perfect face, and Leon told her, gruffly, "...yeah...that's me inside you."
Jesus.
She didn't want him there.
The truth of it made her try to fight him off. She lifted like she'd remove him and he pinned her arms down again and took over. Her body bowed, her thighs quivering. Ada shook her head and whined, "...I don't want it."
He dropped his mouth against hers and told her, "...yeah you do...stop lying...and just let go."
Her mouth opened on a soft cry of surrender. She arched her neck and kissed him back. Desperate, they kissed each other like they just might devour the other. He let go of her resisting arms and she grabbed his face to roll him to his back.
She rose above him, riding his body, holding him down to milk his mouth. They fed off each other, wild things without every being sated. He rose, sliding her into his lap, and they clung to each other. His hands held her face, scooping her hair back. She copied him, twisting her fingers into his and making his eyes flare. Angry, she demanded, "...stop."
He tugged her down, nipped her mouth, and returned harshly, "...you first, sweetheart."
In answer, she rode his body so hard it slapped wetly in the dark. They both groaned. They watched each other, the sound of him sinking into her slippery cunt was satisfying somehow - it was audible and fragrant, smelling like sex and surrender. She gasped, jerking on his hair, and kissed him until he turned his head to breathe.
When she slowed, he caught her and rolled her to her back until she was pressed against the headboard and his groin. He pinned her, plowing through her soft cries and into her belly. She whimpered, clutching at him, and he angled her against him, sank into her until she keened and her body resisted him, and he told her, "...goddamnit, Ada...I love you."
She came apart in his arms. Her body bucked, her eyes rolled, and she came around his plunging hips. He rolled her up into his arms and kissed her, holding her against him as he cupped her butt and lifted, lowering her down until his dick twitched, her pussy fisted so hard it left him brainless, and he nearly blew a testicle blowing his load in her. It hurt, erupting hotly from his hammering cock while he cursed, sucking her tongue, and she whined and ground on his lap.
Christ, he thought wildly, he wasn't sure what happened after that. He wasn't sure he cared. She'd offered him the ability to be hers once. If this is what it meant, he thought he might relent and accept.
They desperately clutched each other, shaking, shivering, quaking and quivering and cumming. Sweat slick and gasping, they leaned enough to kiss wetly. Slow and sloppy, their mouths mated while their bodies relaxed. She collapsed around him, clinging.
Damnit.
She'd stepped wrong somewhere here. She was in too far. She'd let jealousy over simple feminine desire make her a fool. It was time to pull back and remember what she wanted here.
Did she want to be some man's doormat?
Did she want to be some man's cum dump?
Did she want to be some man's wife?
She leaned back and he caught her face to hold her. Eyes closed, head back, he was completely at her mercy there in her arms. She caught his face and kissed him. Her eyes stayed on him while she did.
He flushed pink and rolled, putting her beneath him. Sweaty, they slid together as he kissed her. She kept watching him while he did it. She should push him off her and leave. It was the right thing to do.
Her neck arched. His lowered. Eyes open, they watched each other while they kissed.
She should stop this before it became something she couldn't control anymore.
But she liked his face as he told her, earnestly, "...I want you to stay. Stay with me. Stay."
She opened her mouth for his tongue. They kissed until they were breathless. She made no promises. She let him pick her up to carry her into the shower. She let him touch and wash her, stroking and sliding his hands all over her.
She let him curl behind her and hold her in the bed.
Her face stared back from the mirror on the closet. It was her face, it was her body, it wasn't her. She wasn't a woman who laid down beneath a man and surrendered. She wasn't a man who fell asleep beside one.
But she fell asleep beside Leon Kennedy.
She woke to find him between her thighs with his mouth on her. Her hands tunneled into his hair. She came quietly, hips lifting. Her hands gathered him up to kiss him as she crested, his body sliding over hers.
He nestled there and her folds parted to let him inside of her. Her back arched, his mouth settled against her neck. They mated, softly, skin shimmering. Her hands cupped his ass to roll him as he fucked her. His mouth suckled at her breasts and one hand held hers over her head.
She let him, watching him sink completely into her. The somehow glittering length of his dick split her, claimed her, and made her cream. She whimpered, shaking her head. She came while his mouth plucked, while his fingers played against her clitoris, while his hand held her captive.
Her voice was high and she begged, "...you have to stop."
He didn't. He kept on going in and out of her until she couldn't do anything but watch him do it. Her thighs spread, her feet hooked on his calves, her blood turned her skin pink. He lifted his head, her breasts pressed against his chest, and he told her gruffly, "...you're beautiful, Ada...fuck...tell me what you want..."
Tell him to stop.
"...don't stop."
His hands pushed her knees up, they both watched him go in and out of her, her cunt milking every inch and every stroke. He angled onto his knees, opened her up, and finished. She felt him gush into her, hot and damning. She watched his face while he did, like she was the best thing he'd ever had. She watched him while his dick slid out of her and the evidence of his victory dribbled down her swollen pussy lips.
She wasn't a woman who let a man cum in her.
He gathered her to him. She went, limply, staring into the dark over his shoulder. His hands stroked her back. He nuzzled her face over to kiss her.
She collapsed against him an inch at a time.
He held her until his snoring filled the night.
She'd won. She had him. He was in love with her. She'd played him until she had lassoed him in and owned him - cock, stock, and barrel. It was time to push him where she wanted him. It was time to use him to get what she needed.
It was time to leverage all this love making into her own freedom.
Love making...is that what this was? Was she letting him make love to her? Yes. At least here, now, she could admit it. She was letting him love her. She was, for a handful of moments, forgetting that they weren't some sappy story of a woman and man in the throws of a real affair.
She was letting him live in a fantasy...and she was letting herself float there beside him.
She didn't love him. She couldn't. Not the way he wanted. Not the way he did. She didn't coo and simper. She didn't long for him. She would never feel that way for anyone, ever. She hadn't since the moment it was made clear she was a possession, a weapon, and something that would never be free.
She had his heart in her hands -One squeeze would kill him or revive him. The choice was hers on which.
Part of her mourned the idea that she'd never be the woman who could lay beneath a man and just be complete.
Part of her mourned the idea that he'd never look at her the way he had tonight ever again.
She couldn't do this anymore. She'd been infected by her own game. She cared about him. She cared enough to know it was time to push him away. It was time to draw a line in the sand before he was too far in love to be of use anymore.
She dreaded the idea that she might mourn him if he was dead.
It was time to put distance here to save what she'd spent a life time cultivating.
She fell asleep in his arms with the plan to say goodbye.
The sun rose in a bloody red on pink and blue. It flickered color over them and made her eyes open. She was curled against his back with her arm around him.
The truth made her grimace.
Apparently, a body still liked to cuddle in sleep.
She rolled away while he slept on his belly and moved to find her clothes. She picked up her dress and rose, turning to slip it on. He caught her, pressing her into the wall. Before she could stop it, she dropped the dress and caught his face to kiss him back.
She warned, breathless, "...I have to go, Leon..let me go..."
He simply lifted her leg to take her. She arched, body falling apart. He lifted her around his front and took her back to bed. If she'd separated from her body to watch it, she'd have floated above shaking her head.
Her body liked his, there was no denying that. They coupled wetly on the bed in the coming dawn. He left her pulsing and weak beneath him as he came in her. She watched the cum drip onto the bed beneath them with a shivering sense of loss.
This was why she didn't allow a man to control her. It was like being addicted to something. She didn't want to be addicted to sex without boundaries.
She shoved him off her and crawled off the bed.
He caught her foot and she hit the floor with an oof. Annoyed, she swatted at his hands as he gathered her up and pinned her to the floor. Her legs just...opened...and let him between. The anger was sharp and quick as she commanded, "...get off me."
Amused, his eyes twinkled, "...you have your legs wrapped around me."
Right.
She opened those and shoved on his chest. "...damnit, Leon, this is done."
He caught her face and turned her to his mouth. She kissed him back and then cursed, shoving him off her. He let her go, listening to her mutter and curse. She told him, flushed and angry, "...don't touch me again."
His brows arched. He sat up, dick glistening with her juices on it. She pointed and commanded, "Cover up."
His eyes sparkled, "Why?"
Huffing, she tossed his jacket on him where he sat. "I was wrong. Last night...I was wrong. From now on, this is business."
He laughed, shrugged, "...sure."
Ada jerked her dress on and grabbed her shoes. "I mean it. I'm not a woman who has affairs, Leon. Ever. I don't want that. No more games."
He shrugged, looking soft and used, "...ok. No more games...where you going?"
"Away." She grabbed the handle for the room door, "...I'll contact you soon."
His hair was disheleved and his face covered in her lipstick. He winked at her and responded, "...see ya later, princess. Ada?"
"...what?"
"...I love you."
She pointed at him and spat, "Shut up...idiot."
Ada slammed the door. She hurried toward the elevator, shaking her head. This was still salvageable. She could still come out of this without looking like a fool. She was able to rescue this...somehow.
It was the first time in her life she'd over played her hand and lost.