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Warning: lemony contents in this chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, but I do own myself......

On to the story:

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Chapter 10 I dream of you

Looking around Bulma's room, Vegeta let his cloak fall, dropping it on a chair, noting as he did the large number of lighted candles set about the room.

She had obviously felt in need of light ........... and reassurance.

Had she known he was coming?

From the other side of the room, Bulma surveied his movements. He could see the wonder in her eyes.

She favored him - more with her eyes than her expression.

He considered her.

After a moment she asked, "What are you thinking?"

The question startled him, pulled him in, made him think further......

How much I'd like to undress you, lay you on the bed and..........

"I was wondering," he said, "what it will take to convince you that we can never be together."

She humphed and tilted her chin at him.

Lifting one hand, Vegeta closed his fingers firmly about her tapering jaw.

Her eyes widened, then spat sparks.

"There's nothing you can say or do that will convince me you don't want me, that we can't shape our future together, that we don't have a chance."

He raised one eyebrow, his gaze fell to her lips. "Is that so?"

"YES!"

His lips curved - not with humor but with satisfaction at her challenge - a challenge he was only too willing to meet. His trademark smirk surfaced as he tipped her chin up a fraction more and he lowered his head.

"Perhaps we should put that to the test."

He murmered the words against her lips, hesitated for a heartbeat to let his warm breath bring her lips alive - then covered them with his.

She held tight for an instant, then surrendered.

Her back eased, her lips melted under his.

She was eager, yet innocent; new to giving her lips, her mouth, her breath to him, yet her response flowed instinctively.

She had none of the guile of a more experienced woman, did not try to be something she was not; her fresh enthousiasm, her delight she could not hide enthralled him, lured him deeper.

Deliberately he deepened the kiss.

She responded sweetly, tipping her head back, parting her lips, welcoming him in.

When his arms tightned in response, locking her to him, she eased into him readily, breasts pressing tight into his chest, hips sinking against his tights, luring him.... awakening him........ arousing him.

Trying to hold onto his discipline, he parted her lips further, so he could artfully, skillfully ravish her soft mouth and take what she offered so freely.

Holding himself back, he gave her more pleasure, settling to enjoy her even more.

He was driven by simple desire, unable to resist her call.

Maybe he SHOULD make her his mate.

If he'd known it would come to this, he'd run, but now he couldn't stop, it was unthinkable.

He released her lips briefly to drag in a breath.

Her scent came with it - appleblossom and peeches - the very simplicity of the fragrance touched his soul, so innocent it drove through his defences, capturing his desire for her.

To live without this - without her, without the intense satisfaction that experience told him could be his with her - THAT was the definition of unthinkable.

Releasing her jaw, he slid his fingers into her blue locks, holding back a shudder at the sensation of pure silk sliding over his hands. His lips firmed on hers, calling out to the passion lying dormant in her; he angled his head, fingers sliding untill he cradled her head, holding her steady in the on-coming storm, surrendered to his passion.

He took their kiss still deeper, sliding them into the very heat of the fire, into realms she'd never experienced.

He, however, was SUPPOSED to be in control.

Shocked, he sensed his control slip, felt his hunger well.

Stunned, he pulled back, looked into her heated face.

Long enough to draw in a much needed breath, to read the passion in her eyes; no fear, only hunger.

Bulma reached for him, pulled him to her, offering her lips.

He took them again, then her mouth as well.

Again they fell into the heated clash of their tongues, battling a battle of liquid fire.

Then he felt her lips closing about his tongue, sucking it gently, sending heat spiraling through him.

His attention focussed abruptly, on her desire and his.

The whirlpool of their kiss dragged them deeper, into a vortex of heady sensations - all beckoning, enticing.

The need to get closer welled, swelled ---

His resistance irked. If he wanted to prove to her that this ment nothing, then she was going to bring him in deep.

She wasn't going to let him slip away!

Deliberately, she stretched upward, flagrantly inciting, kissing him urgently, as evocatively as she knew how ---

Pulling him right into her fire, burning him.

His arms shifted, then his hands were on her back - large and strong, they slid down, smoothly sweeping down to her waist, to her hips, then down, over the swells of her bottom.

He cupped her, held her tight, her curves filling his hands, then he lifted her.

Up and against him - molding her to him so her soft belly cradled the hard ridge of his erection.

She would have gasped, but his lips sealed hers, ravishing her ruthlessly in a demand she felt to her toes, he look all she offered and searched for more still.

Bulma sunk her fingers into his shoulders, clinging to him, hot becoming hotter and hard becoming much harder.

Need, want and desire swam through them, her passion finaly broke over them, awoken.

Exitement caught them, her back touched the dressing table against the wall.

She pulled her head away, "Remember that you don't want me?"

To his shock he heard himself say, "Apparently I was wrong. I DO want you."

His lips closed over hers again, the kiss turning ravenous and hot. It slid through their veins, through their limbs, through their brain.

And she burned, as did he.

Their heads spun.

Boneless she sank deeper into his embrace, into his shocking heat.

"I have dreamed of this. Of you."

With those words he left her standing against the dressing table, the sudden loss of his hard body against her all but left her disoriented.

She dragged in a breath, watched him with glittering eyes as he shrugged of his shirt, tossing it ona nearby chair. He returned to her, his hands sliding, then firming about her waist, drawing her to him.

He ducked his head and dotted gentle kisses along her jaw, over her earlobe. Then his lips slid farther, to caress the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

She shivered in his arms.

The air about them shimmered, stirring, alive, invested with power.

She felt his temptation, his promise and more.

Lifting one hand, she traced the line from one cheekbone to the corner of his lips. Hauling in another breath, she stretched upon her toes and touched her lips to his once more.

It was madness - a delicious, heady, compulsive madness - a sudden need that seared them, drove them on, impelled them.

It was impulse - pure, distilled and potent; leading them to a place unknown.

It caught them up, swept them up, and they were back into the fire, back into the flames.

Then he released her lips and firming his hands about her waist he set her atop the dressing table, which, thank God, was of perfect height.

She blinked up at him in surprise. Her new position left her face more level with his. Her breasts swelled, then she noticed her skirts straining over her parted knees. Startled she clamped her legs shut.

He let his lips curve reassuringly; he could do nothing about the fire in his eyes. His gaze locked on hers, he stepped forward, his hips meeting her knees, immobilizing her legs.

He then proceded to lower his gaze to her chest and reached for the buttons of her blouse.

She smiled back at him cautiosly, her wits in disarray, her breath labouring. There was no way she would be able to think now.

He continued to undue her buttons.

Fleetingly, he then met her gaze; his was hot, smoldering black.

Temptation and promise - both glowing clearly.....

The last of her buttons slipped free.

Raising his hands, he framed her face and drew her lips to his.

Bulma wanted to deny him what he'd wanted to deny her, and braced herself against the force of his kiss.

But there was no force in his kiss. He nibbled, kissed, tantalizingly teased until, senses whirling, she grabbed him and kissed him back.

She sensed his triumph, but she didn't care, in this moment all she needed was this, all she wanted were his lips on hers.

And he welcomed her in, drew her deep, then toyed with her - incited her.

Ignited her.

Until they were consumed by raging heat too hot to be confined within living flesh.

His hands drifted from her face, down the sides of her throat, to her shoulders, then lower. With the lightest touches, they flared over her breast.

Her flesh came alive.

Their nerves flickered, unfurled --- sensitized, they waited, tightening with anticipation.

He drew back from their kiss, while Bulma held her eyes shut, struggling to breath.

Slowly, deliberately, he stroked the upper curves of her breast, then the lower, through the soft fabric of her petticoat, then his fingers trailed lightly over the peaks, over nipples now excruciatingly tight.

She gasped, his lips captured hers, drinking in the clear sound.

His hands shifted, firmed, cupping her curves in his hands. Gently possesive he closed his hands over the soft mounds.

Her breath hitched; his lips shifted on hers, brushed, caressed, reassured.

She felt her breasts swell even more, felt them heat and firm until they ached.

Vegeta closed his thumb and forefinger about her nipples, and she gasped, and tensed - then tensed more.

He played, giving her time to get accostumed to her touch, rolling her nipples between his fingers, awakening more of her senses.

Only then did he remove her blouse, baring her to his eyes and senses.

She looked at him shyly, her eyes hazy with passion.

He looked at the creamy expanse of skin showing above petticoat, to drink in the beauty of her naked shoulders, her sweetly rounded arms, the delicate structure of her collarbone.

He had seen it all before, yet this time it was different, like seeing her for the very first time........ HIS.

The word echoed in his brain.

Feeling like a drowning man coming up for air, he hauled in a breath. Lifting his hands, he once more framed her face, and brought her lips to his.

Her arms snaked around his shoulders pressing herself to him.

He slid her closer to the edge of the table, then lifted his head and studied her face, for a minute afraid he'd see fear in her eyes.

All he saw was longing though, mixed with innocent trust.

He stripped away her skirt, trowing it on the floor with her blouse.

Excitement shot through her while she sat there clad in her petticoat, meeting his eyes.

He reached out.... closed his hands about her breasts again.

"Do you like this?" His voice was soft.

"Yes." She breathed the word, only aware of his fingers as they stroked and gently squeezed. Although her chemise muted the action, his touch burned.

Through the fine material of her petticoat, one pert nipple beckoned; he bent his head, closing his mouth over it and heard her shocked gasp.

He settled to feast, to wring more shocked gasps from her. Long before he'd raised his head, he'd succeeded, drawing a song of appreciation from her lips.

Then, nuzzling her blue locks, he slid his lips into the sweet hollow beneath her ear while his fingers stroked the fire in her further.

Speed had suddenly become essential.

Imperative.

Her scent rose to torment him, adding to his pain.

Gently he flipped off her shoes, then stepped between her legs.

He kissed her, open mouthed, ravenous while at the same time he slipped of her garters, then rolled her stockings down, carefull not to touch her bare skin yet.

She was then sitting in candlelight clothed in nothing but her petticoat.

He grabbed and tugged it, but she was sitting on it.

Not feeling like moving away from her, he decided to let her wear it; it was of a fine material after all, no real barrier either to his touch or his senses.

Softly he let his hands wonder over her body, gliding, soothing, tracing, learning, he caressed her tights, her knees, her calves.

Her breath suspended, making her chest caress him for one long instant.

They simply existed, focussed only on each other.

She let het hands wonder then, over his chest, and he breathed again.

He eased her forward even further, closer to him, to the edge of the table. Every inch she slid forward pressed her tights farther apart, until, beneath her petticoat, they were wide-spread, held so by his hips.

She was open to him.

Sliding one hand to the small of her back, he settled it there, solid and sure behind her. Then he raised his head fractionately, breaking their kiss, but leaving their lips a mere inch apart.

From beneath his lids, he watched her face as, with the same gentle yet deliberate touch he'd used throughout, he dipped his hand beneath her petticoats hem and slid it slowly up the silken length of her tigh.

Her lids flickered; he glimpsed her eyes, wide pupils circled in startling blue.

She trembled, her breath caught, then she slowly exhaled.

He stroked her thigh, the long quivering muscle, then the inner face - he stroked upward, brushing her lips when she shuddered, letting her cling when, with the backs of his fingers, he caressed her quivering stomach.

Then, very slowly, he let his fingers glide down, tracing the crease at the top of one tigh, then the other, then, easing back from their kiss, he gently pressed two fingers into the silken curls between her tights.

She sucked in a breath; a sharp quiver lanced through her.

Her eyes tightly shut, he couldn't see them, so he watched her face, watched the emotions flicking over it - anticipation, excitement, sharp delight, wonder and flaring need - as he caressed her, then parted the soft folds and touched her intimately.

She was already hot, wet and swollen.

He probed and found the tight nubbin of flesh hidden in its hood; he circled it with a moistered fingertip - her breath suspended once more. She sought his lips with hers.

He kissed her, but kept the caress light - her universe should evolve around his fingers, not his lips.

He slid her closer to the tables edge still, instinctively, she raised her knees and gripped his hips for balance.

He touched, caressed, then very gently, probed her slick folds further, enjoying the soft flesh.

He found her entrance - ignoring the sudden focus of her tension, he eased one finger in, then, in the instant she caught her breath, slid it slowly, inexorably, into her heat.

She dragged her lips from his in shock; he felt the strong shudder that went through her body in his bones, her body closing hotly about his fingers.

Recapturing her lips, he kissed her deeply, evocatively, stroking her fire in the same way.

Bulma couldn't think, couldn't reason; she just existed for this moment.

She was hot, so hot; her skin felt like it was on fire, the flames starting deep inside of her, spreading into extremity, making her whole skin tighten.

Her nerves were stretched, so taut, so tense in anticipation of his next caress, that she knew she'd fly apart if she didn't get it soon.

What it was she could not fully grasp at that moment; she knew what would happen, but never had she felt like this: so hot....

So excited.

So mind-numbed.

So gloriously delicious.

So wicked.

She was panting, squirming, ready to kill for that next bit of sensation, his next caress, the next wave of heat washing over her.

If he didn't hurry up and give it to her, she was certain she'd die.

Vegeta new what he had brought upon her, experienced as he was.

Leaving the hand between her tights still probing in a slow, repetitive rythm, he slipped his pants of with the other, guiding them down his hips.

He tipped his shoes off, let his pants fall, stepped out of them and kicked them away..

She drew him to her and he nudged her head up, finding her lips again.

He caught her up in the kiss, then drew his hand from her slick heat; one hand at her back, he eased her forward a fraction more - until the broad head of his erection nudged into her softness.

Startled, she drew back from the kiss, looking down, seeing nothing because of her chemise.

"What?" the surprise in her voice was evident; she hadn't known he'd take it this far.

He smirked painfully, "Easy. Just......like......" He pressed in, sank into her. "THIS."

Her eyes widened, she only grimaced slightly when he broke her barrier, filling her up, slowly stretching her softness.

Her fractured "OH!" hung shivering in the air, radiating in the silence.

Then her lids fell, just before she tensed.

Scalding hot, she closed about him, so tight he thought he'd lose him mind.

He didn't move, knew it was too soon, too painfull for her right now.

His breathing sounded ragged in her ears; he was so tense from holding back his lungs felt tight. He was inside her at last..... all he had to do now was stay in control.

She was so very wet, the hottest dream he'd ever had; it was pure torture to have to hold still.

Then she wriggled and he knew he was done for it.

He started moving inside of her, until she pressed closer, picking up his rythm.

They moved together, barely able to breath, yet their lips fused and held, melding to the same beat as their bodies, the same beat as their hearts.

As the heat began to rise, the movement changed into a rolling thrust provocing sensation from them, making her shudder in his arms.

She felt his hand slide, hot as a brand, up under her petticoat.

Skin to hot skin, he closed his hand about her breast.

His fingers shifted; he found her tightly furled nipple.

And pressed.

She cried out - her cry echoed through the room, bouncing of the walls.

Heat and flames washed over them, molted rivers of passion and urgent need flowed, a hot tide, from the place where they were joined. The tide swelled, reaching ever higher, consuming their bodies, their minds, their senses.....

Lifting them high on a rush of pure passion.

Higher --- ever higher.

He kept filling her deeply, his fingers once again sliding into the damp blue curls between her tighs, to the nubbin of flesh he'd earlier teased.

Her touched her there - reality shook.

"Let go...." His breath caressed her ear. "Trust me..."

And she did, soaring high......

Her worlds exploded.

All she knew was pleasure, deep, melting pleasure.

It surrounded her like a sea, and left her floating in extasy.

She contracted around him, each ripple like a silken caress marking him, burning into his flesh, as he drove deep into her molten heat.

Then he joined her in the void, stars exploding all around them, he felt the heat of her body beneath him as she clung to him.

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Vegeta awoke from his dream with a gasp, sitting straight up in his bed, sheets in disarray all around him.

Breathing hard, he lay back down on the crumpled sheets, cursing his lack of control over his dreams.

Night after night he dreamed of her; her scent, her heat, her passion.

And he knew that all that could be his, all he had to do was reach out his hand and touch her.

BUT HE COULDN'T!

He knew what would happen: ultimately he would destroy her, just as he destroyed everything else he touched, everything he had once loved.

His heart heavy, Vegeta turned onto his stomach and tried to drift of into a sleep without dreams of her.........

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This was it!

I can only say I hope you enjoyed it, for it sure took me a lot of work as well as creative thinking to create this piece of work!

Please review to tell me what you thought about it. PLEASE?!

And of course watch out for our next and exciting episode of Dragonball Z!