Title: Willpower

Series: L&L Fantasy Party

Authors: Aimes

Rated: R

 

~*~

Willpower. She convinced herself she had it, but there was only so much her mind could do when her body wasn’t buying what she was selling. Defiance then. She was defiant, no one could make her give up, no THING could break her. But her lip quivered despite the level of fire in her eyes. Stubborness. She nodded to herself, a wall of impenetrability, an unmoving wall. Oh, but why was she pacing?

Relief. That’s what she really wanted.

Panting softly, she thought she would go back to the Victorian ballroom Will had created. At least then, in the confining dress, she was actually free of her torture. The irony was not lost on her. But he was busy with other guests and he might be hurt knowing that she was using his room as an escape. It was unfair to him. Damn her sense of propriety. Inside though, she knew she would choose the yards of fabric bustled over her backside then her current situation.

Her feet walked her back and forth, a tiger in a cage simply waiting for the moment the bars would raise and she could jump whatever was in front of her. She didn’t have to wait long. From the other side of the ballroom, he entered. A great tingle shuddered through her, and she moaned in agony while damning her body for having any reaction at all to him aside from anger.

Stalking over, she made an unstoppable bee-line for the tall blonde clone. Without giving him the chance to look up from the buffet table, she palmed his chest and shoved him backward through a door behind the table and into the ante room which served as a prep area for the invisible staff.

Plates of food waited on the counters lining the walls. Two doors on either side of the room led to different areas of the castle, more than likely a kitchen and perhaps the front foyer. She didn’t care if they led to Siberia, manhandling him into the marble counter top in one corner of the room that didn’t have food on it. With an “ooof!”, he smacked it hard, but still managed a wicked grin with evilly dancing eyes to match.

“Somethin’ vexin’ you?”

Her hands fisted his waist and she growled up at him, “You know damn well what’s VEXING me…..”

“Are you ‘avin’ a good time?” he leaned in to whisper heavily in her ear. The shiver that slid down her back told him more than he needed to know. She was ready to tear him apart.

“Please…”

“Please what, vixen?” he leaned back to study her face. She refused to break, she would not beg him, there would be no giving in. He wasn’t going to win.

“I have been good,” her lips traveled to his neck and began to suckle her mark.

“Judgin’ by th’way ‘avoc’s stompin’ ‘round, doubt that very ‘ighly,” he growled.

She snarled, scraping her teeth against his neck, “I’m not talking about that.”

For the first time in the evening, she felt his defenses weaken against her with a familiar stirring in his leather pants. A soft smile snuck past her lips as she nibbled harder on his jugular. Rubbing her body against his, she lifted her knee, stretching her leg out to curl around his waist. The movement pulled a gasp from her as the torture device shifted, but she held her breath and let the wave of pleasure wash through her. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing what it was doing to her. Snorting to herself, she knew he already was well aware of the little piece of metal’s effects.

But she couldn’t keep this up for long. The ring he had clipped onto her most intimate flesh was rolling and caressing her with every movement, practically every breath. So what was the problem? Find a room and take it off, or give herself some satisfaction. If it were only that easy. He had rules. Of course he did. No taking it off and no touching it. She could let someone else touch it, but he knew that she wouldn’t. The sheer embarrassment of letting anyone know that he had her under his control was enough to keep her in check. If she walked around enough, she’d find her release, but of course, it’d be among a pile of guests, and he also knew that she wouldn’t embarrass herself like that. So, she was basically at his mercy until he decided to ‘release’ her from her bond.

It was time. Her body was raging like a nor’easter barreling into the rocks of the shore. Every single nerve ending cringed and popped with each stroke of her legs and shuffle of material against her flesh.

“Please,” she breathily begged, finally giving in, “Please help me.”

His satisfied growl slid through her, as did his hand, down her side and along the edge of her thigh. A soft gasp sucked into her lungs against the skin of his neck. She pressed in closer to the bulge in his leather. She knew she’d do anything for him, if he would only set her free.

“Oi! Mate! You got somethin’ I need!”

A high pitched cry whimpered from her. This wasn’t happening. NOT. NOW. Conner strode towards them and grinned. If he hadn’t figured out what One had done to her, he was certainly on his way to putting all the puzzle pieces together. One gazed up at him, his eyes flashing from yellow back to his normal ice blue.

“And what would that be?”

“A remote.”

She quirked her head up at him, somewhat distracted by her current torture. What remote? There was a remote? Shock crept forward as her brain started to conceive what he could do with a remote. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t said anything, or that she hadn’t had any unwanted pressure from the jewelry he had put on her. Her brain went on the happy jaunt down the path anyway.

“So, Red gave up ‘er secret?” he almost frowned.

“Nah, found it on m’own. She’s fit t’be tied,” he chuckled, “Funny, much like this one, ‘ere.”

The two deviously shared a look at her. Clutching his shirt, she shivered, the idea of both of them near her driving her almost insane with need.

“It looks like you got your ‘ands full, an’ I need t’ave some fun. C’mon mate, give up one of ‘em….s’not fair you ‘avin’ both of ‘em at your mercy. A bloke can’t enjoy ‘imself at all with th’rules you set in place,” he leaned on the counter nonchalantly picking at his nails. One stilled against her, his face unreadable as considered his plight and then slowly nodded. When he rocked against her to shove his hand in his pocket, she had to bury her face in his neck and cry out as his movement rolled the ring. Bastard. The wiggle of his chest betrayed the chuckle he let slip reacting to her distress.

“Go. ‘ave at, mate.”

“Thanks,” Con leaned in, nuzzling and nipping at her ear, “Save some of this pent up need for me, eh, pet?”

And with that he was gone.

Before she could breathe, or even think, One had her up against the counter, his mouth baring down on her neck. She gripped the edge of the marble and threw back her head for him. Finally. It was over.

“YES!”

“No.”

Her eyes snapped open to find him grinning down at her. With the waggle of one finger, the smile grew longer and wider than the Cheshire cat’s. Tsking, he shook his head.

“Can’t let you off that easy.”

She blinked, confused, frustrated and more ready than she ever thought she could be, “But… but….”

“Patience, vixen,” he whispered and ducked out of the room, leaving her in silence. Her body shook, the frustration pouring off her along with the anger for her mate’s horrific case of timing. Nothing had changed. They both still had what they wanted, which was leaving her wanting.

“BASTARDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”