They were in the front page of a national newspaper. The article had an extensive investigation of the flame between the two lovers, a congressman cheating on his wife with the wife of another congressman.
It was scandal.
Her father was moving all his contacts trying to stop the gossip and save her reputation, while the woman begged for forgiveness, not because she loved him, but it was not her intention to ruin his name.
Apparently, they had been in love since high school but life -her father- had kept them apart. She tried trick the media with her blonde wig but her face was instantly recognized.
In the front page of a national newspaper was a picture of his wife and Bulma's husband going into a hotel room. Raditz and Launch.
The article also had a picture of him and Bulma during the convention in the audiovisual room; she was murmuring close to his ear, and his face was in shock but had a blush in his cheeks. The reporter presupposed that she had tried to warn him of their partners' affair. She had already asked for divorce and was suggesting he do the same, but he didn't believe her, ignored her advice and left the convention noticeably angry. And then, a picture of only him going out of an office room where he had had a discussion with her.
For a newspaper they sure knew how to gossip, and like many gossip magazines, they were all wrong.
Vegeta should be angrier with Bulma for not warning him that she had figured out they were being fooled, but in that case, shouldn't he have noticed too? He had been so wrapped up in Bulma's legs, not wanting his wife to find out, that he had failed to see Launch was doing the same with Raditz.
Didn't amaze him that he had no felt jealousy, betrayal or even anger against Launch. Yet, he was mad at Bulma, but not for her missing warning.
It had been two months after the convention; now she was a free woman, and while the gossip revolved around his wife and her ex husband, there was a small picture of Bulma on a date with a baseball player. The caption read "Could her childhood friend be her true love?"
For the most part, he was angry with himself. Bulma had been wise enough to free herself from a boring, unnecessary marriage, without thinking of the cold tattle of politics she could find herself trapped. Whereas he was now in the middle of the useless extramarital fuss about a woman who he had married only because her father was his boss and it had helped him get into upper ranks.
He hadn't cared they weren't 'in love'— love was a useless sentiment in the rooms of power. When her father suggested the marriage, Vegeta didn't know it was because he was trying to separate Launch from a nobody attorney. He even thought he was lucky marrying a woman easy to please in bed who spread her legs effortlessly. Marriage was an institution, with privileges and obligations, nothing more.
Vegeta thought he didn't want to face a divorce, not against Launch, but against her father, out of respect for how he had helped him; he didn't finish reading the article when it dawned on him that he didn't owe anything to his father-in-law. He may have provided Vegeta with phone numbers and names in the laws, but it was Vegeta's work that led to his accession.
If he thought about it deeply, it was because of his father-in-law that it took him a lot to climb to the top. His name was instantly associated with corruption, so when Vegeta was introduced with his help, his fellows thought him equally corrupt.
The milestone in his insight, was realizing that had been the opposite with Raditz. When he married Bulma, her name helped him sneak his position, fast and effortlessly— the fucking idiot never realized how lucky he was and how easily he could have lost it all. Throughout the year, Vegeta had many opportunities to take everything away from him, and he stupidly let it pass time after time. Even four years ago, when he first meet Bulma, he had that chance. She had pulled his attention just with words: she was noisy, always speaking her mind without caring what people thought of her, daring, setting challenges higher and higher, and feral, showing no fear or weaknesses in any moment. If only then he had embraced his curiosity, he wouldn't be in this mess right now.
And lastly, he felt brainless. When she revealed that she was about to be a free woman, his chest felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from him, but his stupid mind reminded him that he wasn't free. When she confessed she was leaving her husband because she wanted him, he didn't confess how much he wanted her in return. He had stupidly chosen remain married to a woman that didn't stir any emotion in him, rather than explore the potent new feeling Bulma had planted on him.
How right she had been when she guessed he was afraid. It terrified him the way she would bat her charming eyelashes at him, and he would be on his knees adoring her center with unreasonable excitement. He was a man of reason, and logic didn't have space for him and Bulma—she would test his limits, and he would indulge her until she had no more boundaries to overcome, and he will be entirely uncovered.
He never cared for a woman more than a night, not even his wife had held his interest. He didn't know that passion and lust could be that powerful until he was caught in the blue web of seduction that Bulma had made for him.
And now she might be weaving one for another useless insect.
With precision, he signed the divorce papers and flew to the stadium where the Taitans would play tonight.
The suite was immense; you could throw a party in there, but at the same time was private. Not everyone was allowed, and while the spectators had a great view of the field, nobody could see the people inside.
Still, the room had a 'romantic' theme—a few vases with flowers over here, some strawberries with chocolate over there, candles and a sofa with a luscious form in the middle. Yamcha had done it purposely; it was obvious he wanted to score a home run with her tonight. It was their third date; he was ready to leave third base.
So romantic.
"Hi, can I get a cheeseburger and more beers for suite A-05? Yes, Thanks, I'll leave the door open," Bulma hung up the phone already savoring the meat. She wasn't going to order a salad to watch a game!
After a few minutes, she heard the door opening when her head was digging inside of the fridge for some buzz, without looking instructed, "Can you leave it in the table, please?"
She was expecting the typical 'yes ma'am' of the worker, but silence she heard. Her eyes peered at the room from behind the fridge door and her heart stopped when she saw the man who had entered.
"Ve-Vegeta?"
He was pure handsomeness and virility. His biceps overstretched the long sleeves of his white buttoned shirt and his hands were inside the pockets of his black suit slacks. That unconcerned pose she loved and the dark gaze rooted her in the spot, almost made her forget all the anger she felt towards the man.
Almost.
"What the fuck are you doing here? Who let you inside?"
He remained serious, but not his stoic expression—his onyx orbs intense with an unfamiliar vision for her, nearly regret but mixed with confidence, as if deciding which one he would pick, perhaps both.
"I asked you, What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" she snapped at him.
Vegeta did a quick scan of the room before rudely asked, "Did you fuck him already?"
A offended gasp tore from her lips as her hand went to her heart.
"What-... Who you think-! How dare you!" Her mouth hung open with incredulity and shock. The nerve of the man! But her wrath easily took lead in the situation, and she closed The mini-fridge with fury.
"And what if I did? Huh? Who you think you are to ask me such question? We aren't lovers anymore. You made that very clear two months ago. I'm a free woman who can fuck whoever she pleases, and last time I checked you had a wife, Why do yo-"
"I'm not married anymore," he interrupted her tirade, effectively shutting her up.
The floor moved at his confession obliging her to ground her feet. His gaze open to her now— I'm an idiot it said. Although her heart burst with glee, her rage clouded her. When she asked him to pick her, choose her, she meant then and there, not when it was more convenient for him.
"And what? You think I'm going to crawl back at you? Gather the leftovers your wife didn't want? Well, you thought wrong!"
Her hands had fisted at her sides, hardly suppressing her rage; she was about to dismiss him when the cheers around them erupted with fury, the tv sound registering, "Two innings more and the Taitans win the tournament."
Her eyes went from the screen to his deciding gaze in seconds, and she knew it was too late to escape.
With a firm step, Vegeta approached her direction. She was frozen for a second but crossed her arms as protection from him. He grabbed her waist like it was the most natural thing to do, and she had to put her hands against his chest to create a barrier between them. She couldn't let her carnal desires for the man control her body.
Bulma was prepared for his rude assault—he demanded answers with his obliging machinery, and her shield was up; however, she was helpless when his lips pressed gently against her mouth, and when his tongue blandly asked for permission to part her lips, her walls started to fall. He always kissed her with rampant passion, desperately trying to prove his domain, heralding his title as alpha. Not this time, the kiss was the softest he had given her, sweetly brushing against her rims; his fingers didn't pressed possessively against her hips, they stroked delicately over her skin.
After infinite minutes, Vegeta stopped his sweet attack to ask her again, "Did you fuck him?" But gentler this time, anxious of her response.
Bulma wanted to lie merely to make him feel the same ire she felt, just to see the same jealousy running in his blood, but damn him, the fire in his eyes, it was different too. It wasn't the burning flames that consumed her body with a simple glance in her direction, no; it was a light bonfire warming her bones on a cold night in a forest.
She knew his fervor, the natural heat that emanated from his body and how he scorched her skin with one touch, but this, this hot sensation growing slowly, warming her flesh smoothly, it was new for her. Unlike him, she was desirous to explore the unknown feeling.
Barely moving her head she revealed no, and the breath he was holding caressed her lips mildly. Again, he pressed his mouth gently against hers, demolishing her walls completely while she kissed him back with decelerated speed.
Vegeta traced her jawline with his lips, nibbling softly at her earlobe and patting down to the junction of her shoulder and neck, he kissed a line in detection to her arm and retreated to her collarbone; with his fingers tips he mimicked the gentle movements on her other side, lingering silky in every spot.
His hands met in the first button of her blouse and before he started to undress her, he confessed:
"I'm a fucking moron. I thought that's what an affair did, make you doubt your loyalties to your partner, make you regret the stupid vows."
One button undone.
"I didn't realize earlier that I was never loyal to her; I never cheated, but just because it was beneath me."
Two buttons undone.
"I thought I had to let pass this obsession for your body, for your kisses, your taste. I tried to fuck somebody else, any cunt would work to help me forget about you."
A pause.
"But I couldn't."
Another button undone.
"These two months were hell knowing you were free, knowing someone else could claim you as his, and I would have to let you go."
Last button undone.
His index finger traced down her sternum, between the route of her mountains and passed her belly; parting her blouse open and revealing her tantalizing curves.
A tremulous growl tore from his throat at the sight in front of him, it was a blend between appreciation, for the fine lace that covered her mounds but fairly translucent to let him see her lovely nipples, and anger charged by his jealousy because he knew she didn't wear it for him.
Bulma was unmoving, rooted to the ground; her hands had fallen at her sides to let him have free rein of her body. His admission left her speechless, but she had to say something, claim, scream, complain, it didn't matter what, just say something!
"Vegeta you can't come and fuck me just because you want, I'm not-"
With a suffocating kiss, he quieted her again, and he sat her on the elevated side of the tantric divan. His upper form was pressed hard against her chest, and his arms held her waist with pressure; still, it wasn't possessive. He anchored his body to hers with a desperate need, maybe fearing it would be the last time. His respiration combined with hers when their foreheads touched.
Whispering in her mouth, lips brushing delicately, he denied, "I don't want to fuck, I want to have you."
Either his words, his embrace, or his eyes, he broke her in pieces and she tried to undress him urgently. He didn't let her. Grabbing both her hands in his, he dipped his head to kiss her mounds over the thin fabric. Vegeta could feel the hurried beat of her heart under his mouth; he let her get accustomed to his slow rhythm, tracing her bust with tenuous contact, but not once reached her sensitive buds. When he knew she wouldn't move, he let go of her hands and undid the clasp of her bra, finally baring her chest.
Not a second later he was lapping at her mounds, thankful for not having the interference of her clothes, his teeth biting gently at her prickly nipples, playing and teasing them, making Bulma pull her hair to avoid pulling his.
After her chest was red from his abuse, he put one hand in her back and one in her thorax to help her lay down in the couch, but two hands in his biceps stilled him. Teal doubting eyes questioned him.
'What are you doing'
It pained him that she had to ask, that she longer had reliance in him with her pleasure.
'Trust me'
A heavy second later, the uncertainty in her gaze cleared, and with faith she fall back on the couch, her head rested in diagonal to the ground as her legs splayed open at his sides.
His fingers pulled at her bottoms, dragging panties and shorts together to scatter them across the floor.
One last glance at her anticipating eyes before he dipped down to her folds.
Her thighs heated when, with gentleness, he kissed them, prolonging the touch of lips enough to leave her anticipating for more. Each kiss, closer and closer to her center, his fingers followed behind, tracing the same route. She felt Vegeta's breathe fan over her burning flesh before she took a needed big inhale of air.
His tongue pressed delicately at the little bell in her entrance, the sound traveling from her core to her mouth and leaving her body with a loud "Ahhh" from her lips; he started with long leisurely circles around her clit but gradually increased his pressure and tempo. His fingers let themselves inside, going in and out like welcomed guests, taking residence in her more vulnerable rooms; they teamed with his tongue and pressed together at her tip, leaving her sobbing with wanton.
Her lids closed at the sound of plastic paper unfolding, foreseeing his dick wrapped in a condom ready to break through her walls...
Wait…
We never used condoms.
Suddenly, his tongue was clenching at her clit with unburdened wildness, but the heat of his mouth was replaced with fresh blows of air and she felt a little ball press against her nub. Her hips bucked from the divan notwithstanding his hands holding her thighs down. A tremor was growing in her lower belly threatening to scape in any moment, his tongue pass through her folds but kept going down, down and more down, until it pressed around the ring of her ass, her nails ripped at the couch to barely help her hold her orgasm.
Little spasms in her pussy lashed out untamed as he went back to lick and flick her lovely pearl, the fresh mint in his mouth chilling her burning core. The sportscaster voice announcing the last inning was muffled in the room full of her moans.
The sensations overwhelmed her when, lightly, his lips sucked her jewel into his mouth. Groaning loud, she announced her peak, but he pulled her all at once, obliging her to sit. The trace of mint in his cavern hardly recognizable with the taste of her flower in his lips
His fingers thrusting urgently into her with that passion, that savage she knew so well, but his kiss deep with neediness and desire as if his life had had an absence of them. The palm of his hand grinding over her clit, her arms embracing him in a strong grip, not caring anymore for his not-touching order, because she was moaning and squirming in his busy fingers, that kept going deeper and deeper until they reached that spot that makes her tremble and she was cumming, gasping and yelling in his open mouth.
As Vegeta saw her eyes rolling back, he visualized making a home in here, nestled between her thighs, waking in the mornings to hear her sing softly, moans of pleasure, drinking contently from her juices and take a meal of her body.
Bulma felt like a Koala bear, holding to a tree with such force that not even a demolishing crawler could make her fall. The tree holding her back.
His eyes widespread with adoration, not leaving hers.
She was in heaven. Vegeta had build an altar of her body; his mouth had prayed for forgiveness, and his tongue had pleaded for another opportunity. A sense of fulfillment ran in her bare flesh. He fully clothed and she totally naked, only admitted that she owned him. If someone came into the door they would think he just had his way with her, but she was conscious that he was surrendering, finally giving himself to her.
"Yamcha scores a home run and the Taitans win the game!"
The tv speaker interrupted the intimate moment and Bulma no longer felt breezy about her nakedness.
"You need to leave Vegeta, Yamcha owns this seats and he's coming after the game," she begged, dressing back and not looking in his direction. Her heart was pumping blood so fast that she didn't have any in her brain to assimilate what had just happened.
"Come with me, Bulma," his tone demanding but pleading the same.
Should she go?
"I..."
"Hey B, is Yamcha, come over here to celebrate with me and the boys... I want to show you something... Please... I'll wait for you in the lobby."
The phone speaker intercepted for her this time, and at last, she met Vegeta eyes.
"I have to go," she explained with a hint of hesitation in her response.
A flash of hurt crossed his gaze but with steadiness, he took out a plane ticket from inside his pockets.
"The plane goes out at midnight; don't be late."
'Please show up' was unvoiced.
He put the ticket between her fingers, grabbed her neck with one hand, her waist with the other and gave her mouthful kiss. Hovering her mouth Vegeta dictated for her, "It doesn't matter who you are with, you can't deny you still want me. Let me have you. I crave for you to be mine."
He gave her pick on the lips before letting her go.