Angel-chan: Okay well I really don't have nothing to say but to just tell you guys that I hope you love this chapter *smiles*
Ikuto: xXxStrawberryAngelxXx does not own anything.
Amu: Enjoy
Chapter eight
7:48 p.m.
More than two hours had passes since Angel Moon had accused Amu of stealing her mother's jewels, but the accusations still smarted.
The kitchen was redolent with the aromas of delectable entrees. A battalion of waiters conveyed trays of food from the kitchen to the dining room. The chocolate and vanilla valentine cakes stood in proud display in the ballroom, where a chamber orchestra played to a rapidly dwindling throng. The presentation of the town's richest young ladies was grand, dancing was amusing, checking out one another's gowns was important—but Amu's gourmet catering was currently the major attraction for the first annual Seiyo debutante cotillion's ravenous guest. Amu ought to have taken satisfaction in that.
Elda was treating Amu with surprising courtesy. In fact, it was she who had suggested that Amu step outside for a breath of air. "I'll make sure everything stays hot until it's served," Elda assured her. "You go out and clear your head."
She stood outside the kitchen door, trying not to shiver in the frigid night air. Everything was going smoothly. She had endured calamity after catastrophe after debacle and somehow she'd pulled this thing off.
So why did she feel miserable?
Surely, it had nothing to do with the fact that once Ikuto had chewed out his sister and ordered her to apologize to Amu, he'd vanished into the glamorous swarm of guest. The party had begun and Ikuto had transformed into a full-blooded Tsukiyomi. Flirting benignly with the giggling debutantes, ushering brunette dowagers to chairs, schmoozing with other male guest about golfing and investments, he was the proper Tsukiyomi host. Amu could almost see the Roman numeral IV in his posture, his demeanor. Who was she kidding? All day long, he'd been nothing more than a man on the prowl, trying his luck with the lady caterer. But he knew his place—in the ballroom with the guests and she knew hers.
The orchestra played gamely on; she heard the strains of music coming from the ballroom.
"Care to dance?"
Amu flinched and spun around to see Ikuto stepping through the kitchen doorway. She suffered the same acute reaction to him as she had earlier: he was as suited to suave gray silk tailoring as he was to black denim. He looked as sexy shaved and combed as he did scruffy and windswept. Dressed up or dressed down, he was irresistible.
She resisted, anyway.
"You ought to go back to the party," she said quietly, turning back to gaze at the cars parked beyond the tiny porch.
Ikuto sidled up next to her and slung his arm around her shoulders. "I'd rather party with you."
"Ikuto." She didn't hide her exasperation. "I'm working."
"Elda's holding down the fort. Dinner is a major success, by the way. They're scarfing it up like there's no tomorrow."
"Why don't you go back inside and scarf it up, too?"
"Because there is a tomorrow," he said, urging her around to face him. "I've done my duty to my niece, danced with my mother, made chitchat with the garden-club ladies and their boring husbands—and now I'm on my own time. I want to spend it with you."
His eyes were luminous in the silvery light. His smile was earnest yet surprisingly seductive. She had to force herself to remember that, just as he'd said, there was a tomorrow. Whatever silly dreams she'd entertained about a romance with him would vanish as soon as the moon set on Valentine's Day.
"Come upstairs with me," he murmured.
Her bones seemed to melt in the heat of his gaze. She couldn't give this man her heart, and she couldn't give him anything else without giving him her heart as well.
Who was she kidding? Her heart was already his. She was going to wind up despondent whether she went upstairs with him or not.
He leaned toward her, brushed her lips with his…and she resigned herself to the inevitable, to her own imperative yearning. She loved him. He had stood by her all day, helping her, supporting her, rescuing her, defending her. She loved him.
There was a back stairway—the servants' stairs, she thought ironically, wondering whether Ikuto had ever had a reason to use these stairs before now. He held her hand tightly as he led her along the second-floor hallway to the room in which she'd washed up and dressed for the party a few hours ago. Once they were inside, he locked the door and gathered her into his arms. "I almost dove into the tub with you this afternoon," he confessed, unclasping her barrette and fluffing her hair loose about her shoulders.
"I almost invited you to dive in," she admitted.
He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight that filtered through the curtains by the bed. "We should have done it," he said, tugging his bow tie until it hung in two narrow red ribbons. "We should have forgotten all about the cotillion and sent the rest of our lives in the tub."
"No. In fact, I should be downstairs right now—"
"Elda's taking care of everything," he said, sliding his jacket from his shoulders. He removed the onyx links pinning his cuffs and then the matching studs adorning the front of his shirt. Amu recalled her little fantasy of him stripping off his tuxedo. The reality was much more enthralling.
"Are you sure? I don't want anything to go wrong. And Elda doesn't like me."
"As long as she's in charge of the kitchen, she loves you," he reassured her. "Running the kitchen is all she ever wanted to do."
"She wanted to destroy my cakes," Amu muttered, her gazed fixed on the crisp white front of Ikuto's shirt as he removed the last stud. "I don't know why she suddenlt turned nice."
"I gave her a kiss," he explained. At Amu's startled look, he grinned and tugged his shirttail's free of his trousers. "One of your chocolate kisses, A single bite and she understood why I'm crazy about you."
"My kisses, huh." Amu was aware of the tightness in her voice as her vision filled with the magnificent sight of his naked chest, a plane of streamlined muscle. "You want me for my kisses."
"For starters." He tossed his shirt aside, then reached for her. She automatically lifted her hands to his head, combing her fingers through the mop of his hair and tracing the warm, responsive skin of his face. His deep sigh caused her chest to vibrate.
He took the kiss he wanted, sliding his tongue deep, filling her mouth as he sought and found the zipper at the back of her dress. She felt a brief chill as he drew it down to her waist, then a flash of heat as he returned to undo the clasp of her bra. If there was a cotillion going on downstairs she didn't know about it. If the future of her company was at stake, she didn't care. All that mattered was Ikuto's hands on her back, his mouth on hers, his kissed sweeter and more complicated than anything she'd ever concocted in her kitchen.
(Angel-chan: WARNING! The following text contain sexual content Viewer discretion is advised)
Her dress tumbled to the floor at her feet, and then her bra, her slip, her stockings. Ikuto guided her hands to his trousers and she opened them, refusing to think beyond the moment, the power of his hardness bulging against the smooth gray fabric, the ragged tempo of his breath as she ease his briefs over his hips and down the long, well-toned legs.
Ikuto scooped her into his arms and carried her to the grand four-poster. He joined her on the crisp linen sheets, stretching out on his side and grazing lovingly at her body as it lay in the spill of moonlight. "You're so beautiful," he whispered before setting his hand loose on her skin, exploring the lines of her collarbone and then the hollow between her breasts, the concave stretch of her abdomen.
Her hops shifted uncomfortably; her nipples grew taut in anticipation of his touch. "You're beautiful, too," she said, skimming her hands along the ridge of his shoulder and then roaming forward into the wiry hair that darkened his upper chest.
"Oh, God." It was half a groan, half a growl. "I've been waiting this all day. I don't know how much longer I can wait."
With a mischievous smile, she moved her hands down across his abdomen, curious to see if his condition bore out his words. At her glancing touch, he groaned again. She did too.
He grabbed her hand and pulled it away. Rising above her, he pressed her arms to the mattress and bowed to kiss her breast. "Everything about you tastes so good," he murmured, swirling his tongue over the beaded tip of one breast. "Peppermint pink frosting doesn't come close."
"What a relief," she joked, although she was feeling far from relieved. Her body surged under him, ached for him, felt uncomfortably empty and feverish. She arched her hips and he rubbed against her, hot and heavy. They gasped in unison.
"Amu…" Het let go of her wrists and slid down her body, nibbling her belly, stroking her navel with his tongue, grazing down farther until he pressed a fierce, hungry kiss between her legs. When she was sure, she couldn't hold back any longer, he kissed his way back up.
Her body rose to meet his conquering thrust. She gripped his shoulders, clinging to him as he withdrew and thrust again. She felt as if her heart had split in two, her soul, her spirit, her very essence, all of it opening to let him in, to let him take possession of her. She was his.
His surges were deep, hard, shuddering. The muscles in his back flexed and stretched; he wove the fingers of one hand into her hair while the other cupped her bottom, lifting her maximize every plunge, every sensation. The tension inside her built to a wild, almost agonizing pitch—and then burst, releasing her into ecstasy.
She felt him hover in her arms, suspended at the peak, and then let go, sinking down on her, relaxing his hand, his lips. "Amu," he sighed, a hushed, prayer-like sound.
He closed his eyes and let his head sink onto her shoulder. She stroked his sweat-damp hair back from his face, feeling oddly protective of him. At that one instant, as passion receded and left a sensuous languor in its place, Amu felt she and Ikuto were truly equals. She wasn't the poor girl from the local diner, He wasn't the lord of The Tsukiyomi Hall. They were simply lovers.
Ikuto's breathing grew more regular, his head heavier as he dozed. Though the stillness she heard the faint, distant sounds of the party downstairs.
Amu cuddled Ikuto to herself, aware of how transient this moment was. Soon reality wound return.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she batted them away. She loved Ikuto, but as he'd said, there was a tomorrow. And when it came, she would be blue-collar Hinamori and he would be Aruto Ikuto Tsukiyomi IV.
The gap was too wide; not even love could bridge it.
Ikuto: HELL YES~! I SO LOVE YOU RIGHT NOW ANGEL *hugs/kiss my cheeks multiple times*
Angel-chan: *pushes Ikuto away* You know I'm not the one to thank you idiot. Have you forgotten that I'm not the actually person to had written this story.
Ikuto: Oh…*chuckles* that's right. Thank you Judith Arnold!
Amu: Angel-chan~ *sobs* how could you re-write this story with Ikuto and me as the characters
Angel-chan: Because I'm sweet strawberry we fans love to see you both together and reading all the smut us fans write :P
Amu: *goes to emo corner*
Ikuto and Angel-chan: *sweat drop*
Angel-chan: Anyways while Amu is in depress mode right now let me know what you guys think of this chapter *smiles*
Ikuto: Yeah so R&R everyone tell us your thoughts on this. GIVE US YOUR FEED BACK!
Angel-chan: *sweat drop* Okay…? I also want to remind you guys that the next chapter is the last chapter for this story with the addition of the epilogue which is fact not part of the book but is coming out from my own mind.
Ikuto: Yeah she's going to fuck it up so don't only leave us your feedback but ideas or suggestion on what you want to see in the epilogue
Angel-chan: Ass…Well till next time everyone *ways* bye!