In the Case of Adelia Rose

In the Case of Adelia Rose

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Summary

"We have a problem," a dark, yet honeyed voice told her. "You've lied to me. Just how exactly are we going solve this problem?" Adelia swallowed and her heart was pumping out of her chest. He could probably see it thumping right through her sternum, but he was a hard man and she doubted she was likely to get compassion. Can a heart out for revenge ever be softened?

Summary

"We have a problem," a dark, yet honeyed voice told her. "You've lied to me. Just how exactly are we going solve this problem?" Adelia swallowed and her heart was pumping out of her chest. He could probably see it thumping right through her sternum, but he was a hard man and she doubted she was likely to get compassion. Can a heart out for revenge ever be softened?

Chapter1 (v.1) - The prolegomenon

Author Chapter Note

Prolegomenon. It's a word. It's my new favorite word, below phantasmagorical, but still above chimerical.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 18, 2016

Reads: 1828

Comments: 1

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 18, 2016

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Despite how long they had known each other, and despite how much time she spent in his apartment, Adelia chanced meeting his eyes and felt herself fortunate to be in his gaze. A warm smile crossed her lips and he saw that smile reflect in her eyes and emanate in her heart, a fact that made him look away. 

Adelia's smile died a little. He hated her. Well no, that was the furthest thing from true. He loved her, but he resented the idea of her. Her father was born rich, filthy rich, and that was a sin in his book. By default, she was tainted with all of her father's sins, and had been born into wealth that wasn't earned. This was not something to which Adelia was ignorant, but that was the exact reason why she had chosen him. She understood that she loved him way more than he could possibly love her, and that one day they would have to split up, never seeing each other again. 

But for now, stealing his glances was enough. 

She shifted, meaning to get out of his bed. While still looking out of his penthouse windows, Liam asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Hmmm. What am I doing?" Adelia drew the sound out in a teasing manner. "Maybe you should come over, and find out."

Just before her feet scraped the wooden floor, his voice resonated rigidly against the glass. "Who gave you permission to get out of bed?"

Impertinence playfully possessed her, making her return, "Who gave the order that I shouldn't?" Her heart instantly shuddered, half with excitement, half with anticipation. Wasn't defiance just a deliciously dangerous game? 

"I'm giving it now," her draconian lover's low voice answered. He was caught somewhere between lust and umbrage. Sometimes Liam wondered if she was addicted to punishment, or if she mistook it for earnest love. 

"Well, I don't quite understand why that matters to me," Adelia baited, still possessed by the spirit of insolence and temerity. If only Liam ever listened to that excuse, she'd have save herself a lot of pain and sweat. She guessed the cycle would have to go on until she was punished enough to learn, but as it was, Adelia was paralyzed as he somehow managed to stiffen even more. What was wrong with her? Did she need his attention so constantly that it didn't matter if she was at the mercy of his pleasure or his sadism? 

Adelia didn't breathe again until he slowly turned around with that amused grin of a dominant on his face. Though he tried to look austere, he couldn't keep it hidden that he was a little bit entertained, if not excited, by her daring playfulness. Any reason to touch her was a good reason. 

One to punish her was even better. 

Besides, she deserved it for being such a tease. There she sat on his bed, wearing his business shirt from yesterday, fastening just one button over her breasts and a pair of white panties keeping her from his view. Her body was too stunning for her to keep it covered up all the time. 

He noted that despite her claim, her feet were still an inch from the ground and rose a little higher with each step closer he took towards her, until she was leaning against the wall with her legs neatly tucked to the side, her eyes pinned on his. 

Her lips were such a deep pink. They were the second thing he noticed about her, though he guessed he hadn't noticed one thing in particular about her when he first saw her. All he had done was take one glance at her and he was enthralled. He had to have her.  Every bit of her was gorgeous, she might as well have crawled out of a painting. Maybe he should tell her that when he was done putting her back in her place, because she would deny it and he could punish her all over again.  Honesty was more important than modesty. 

She was biting her lower lip, because she knew she crossed the line into too naughty. Her bright eyes were on him, and she looked so delicate in his shadow. "Is that so?" he asked, looming over her. 

Her eyes grew wide and gooey. He imagined that was probably the same way she stared at her father when she had been too naughty. Perhaps spent a little too much on her credit card?

That wasn't right either. Adelia loved memories more than possessions. He could send her all the presents in the world, and she would appeciate the thought, but she wouldn't be actually be happy unless she was with him.

He tried to imagine her doing those things that the rich kids he had known growing up had done. They crashed their cars every summer and got better ones and overspent their limit and the maid got fired when a joint showed up in the laundry. These people just kept grabbing silver spoons and stuffing them in their mouths. 

Except Adelia. She didn't own a car and when he had met her, she had been struggling to pay rent on her own tiny apartment. He was surprised when he figured out who her father was, but she gave some vague excuse for her shambled finances and impoverished impression, saying something about how he hadn't approved of her college or major. Nothing about her was like the privileged kids that he knew. Liam was probably the worst thing that Adelia had ever done in her life. 

Poor, sweet Adelia. Maybe if she knew what it was to be impoverished, she would have known better than to defy daddy. 

He hated those people. He had been born in something that would be a compliment to call a slum and he had worked until he had the financial security that his parents never had. 

And now he had Adelia to torture or pleasure at his desire and right now, she was peering up at him, waiting the verdict. A thrill went through him as she swallowed. It made him grin and challenge, "Then why aren't you standing?"

Slowly, carefully, she straightened her back against the wall and raised herself until she was standing. This was one of the few times she'd ever be tall enough to look down at him, except when he tied her up, of course. Since she was not on the floor, she had not disobeyed him. After all, she was still on the bed. Yet, she still hadn't submitted either. 

She toed the line so perfectly that he was almost giddy with glee, though he kept a commanding demeanor. He loved the way Adelia's mind worked. Most of all, he loved it when that good-natured impudence came out to play. 

Easily, he reached out a hand towards her stomach and Adelia immediately seized, sobs of laughter escaping her as she tried to maintain composure. There really isn't a human alive that can withstand a good tickling, so she was on her knees, trying to roll away from him in no time. 

To keep her from escaping, he straddled her waist and ruthlessly tickled all of her skin that he could reach. Though she started to plead, he was implacable. There were occasions where she could turn on her adorable charm and he would melt into her fingers, but once he settled on 'punishing' her, this rarely worked. 

Out of all the scenarios, this was the one that surprised her most. When she had started to be a brat, she imagined many things he would do to punish her, but never would she have thought that the stern Mr. Liam, the First of the Highest Horse on the Highest throne would lower himself to the indignity of a tickle fight. Was he actually being playful? Could he do that without a star exploding somewhere in the universe? Even though she was breathless, she somehow managed to beg a few, "Please! White flag! Uncle!"

Finally, he was stunned into a cease-fire. He didn't think he heard anyone shout the word uncle to end a fight since he was in middle school. Quickly, he regained himself, and asked austerely, "Are you going to be a good girl?"

Beneath pouting eyes, Adelia's pink lips smiled. There was always one part of her that could never fully agree on the lie and act accordingly. "I'm always good."

He raised his hands again, moving into tickling position, but she squirmed beneath him, earnest in her pleading now. "I'm sorry, yes, I'm going to be so good."

He didn't know how she was going to be so good, as opposed to just good, but he accepted it. 

"Good, now I can punish you," Liam asserted, and Adelia whimpered. She wanted to point out that she had received a pretty good tickling, but his punishments were always two-fold. First, she had to come back to submitting to him, and only then, he said, was she going to be receptive to punishment. In a matter of seconds, leather cuffs bounded her wrists to the headboard. 

If she were anyone else, he would tie her up, blindfold her, and withhold his touch from her, but then she would get too sulky and keep her distance for awhile. Then when she stopped her standoffish act, she would be extra clinging. Super suran wrap clingy. She hated to be left alone, and he hated the idea that her actions might be brokered by the fear that he might disappear. He wanted her to trust him, so that she was completely honest in her actions and feelings. Only then, he could trust her and get over himself long enough to admit that he didn't want to disappear. 

He also didn't want to be alone, but to instead, touch her and feel her warmth. 

He wondered what was going on behind those effervescent eyes. They were much like the ocean. Such a bright, wonderful blue that seemed so clear, until he realized they were a deep sea, unreadable past the surface. He supposed he could just ask, since she wasn't in the habit of lying, not to him.  

"Was I inattentive to you that long?" he mused. 

"Flowers die without their sun," she answered in a way that was so matter-of-fact, so academic.  

The answer amused him, and she wasn't sure if she liked that particular smirk on him, or if it made her want to twist away. "Forgive me, sweet princess," he joked, inwardly chuckling at her matter-of-fact statement. It was an answer that betrayed her usual, independent spirit. However submissive, honest and open she was, he knew there was a part of him she kept locked away. He wondered if she even let herself into that locked space, but one day, he would find out what was behind it. "I can't have you wilting on me."

Desperate for his touch, she squirmed on the bed, her body begging for his. "Then just kiss me," she said with an exasperated sigh. Why sulk about having an unloved life when someone was on his bed, begging for his love?

"If my precious princess is bad in order to get attention, what kind of punishment should she get?" he pondered aloud. 

Oh no, she wasn't falling for that. If she said a spanking, he'd decide on a flogging. One time, in order to evade another lecture about eating healthy, she haphazardly rolled her eyes and remarked, I know. At this, point I could write you an essay on nutrition. 

Then make it a presentation, he returned. Next Friday and it better impress. His warning made her shiver, but she walked in the next Friday with professional clothes that she must have borrowed from her sister, because he knew Adelia didn't have any of her own.

If her father was so rich, why did she have to act so poor? She insisted she ate what she ate because it was what she could afford. He didn't understand why she didn't just go to the college her father wanted. Was being the pauper really so romantic for her? He hated her for that even more than if she'd been a spoiled brat. 

"I will submit to whatever you think is necessary," she murmured demurely. 

God, she knew how to do that right. "You're so beautiful when you submit," he murmured back. 

She wasn't happy when the blindfold went over her eyes as well, but she understood the point of the game. Being bad to get attention means that you don't get the attention that you want. He pulled leather gloves over his hands. Just because he didn't want to leave her alone, didn't mean he would allow her his touch. 

He considered the flogger, but that's not what he wanted today. 

Gloved hands moved over her body. Content in her torture, she sighed, sometimes relaxing into his touch and sometimes trying to squirm away. When he touched or pinched something too sensitive she would gasp and he continued teasing her until he couldn't take it anymore. His mouth dove to her skin and kissed wherever he could. 

What was he doing? The point was that it wasn't satisfying for her, but he wanted it to be.

Somehow the gloves had come off and been discarded, one by the window, the other sliding beneath the chest of drawers. His hands hungrily grasped onto her flesh and slid up her body, over her chest and up her extended arms. The restraints came undone and her hands immediately clutched onto him like he was her anchor, and they were both sinking for better or worse. 

She rose to meet his lips and he kissed her so passionately, he drew them all the up until they were both sitting upright, her knees pinching his thighs as he rested between her open legs. With his foreheard against hers, they both caught their breath before he laid her down again. 

For a long minute he stared down at her, transfixed and carried out to sea by those eyes. They would be his undoing every time, because the more he stared into them, the more he saw things he never before could see for himself. He always knew he'd become a rich, self-made man who was highly driven with penchant for perfection, staring down on his empire from his penthouse view. Even when he knew he'd never let Adelia go, he never imagined anything but his business shirts in the closet. But looking at her now he could glimpse something he hadn't seen before. 

That picket fence, the green grass and how it smelled freshly mowed. The lemonade that was never as sweet or refreshing as those lips that were peach in color and flavor. Black shutters against a dark beige siding and a red door somewhere that everyone knew everyone by name and town hall meetings were an excuse to socialize and complain about that new fangled pop jargon being added to the juke box. There was never a time when he could see that bland 1940s army poster version of the American dream, but in the case of Adelia Rose-

Wait, why did he call her that, Rose wasn't her last name. 

Fuck


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