|
Post by rhianmorgan on Feb 3, 2009 20:48:03 GMT -6
Rhian had agreed to meet him. A car would be sent for her that evening. She would stay at his villa, for a few days at least. His voice on the other end of the phone had been soft and smoky, but with a barely concealed edge to it. It was a voice accustomed to immediate acquiescence.
Rhian glanced around the hotel’s veranda. A crescent shaped pool of catfish bathed in rays of moonlight, as the smell of jasmine and honeysuckle perfumed the air. The sky was clear, glittering with the constellations of a midsummer’s night. She hadn’t unpacked the night before, so there was little to be done. When Orson had heard that she was staying in a local hotel, he immediately insisted that she stay with him. She wondered if Orson himself, would come and pick her up or would it be one of his many menservants.
She had dressed quickly: A long black gown which glittered in conjunction with the stars and black silk heels; an indirect compliment to Orson who always seemed to wear black. Rhian gazed into the pool, brushing her finger over one lazy catfish.
She hadn’t expected things to move this quickly and had been anticipating a few days alone in her hotel suite to get her bearings; prepare some version of herself that Orson would find desirable. Sheer nerve and deliberate bravado had carried her thus far and she was curious as to where it might lead.
|
|
|
Post by orson on Feb 4, 2009 13:17:04 GMT -6
Orson had just made it back to New Orleans, from New York. It had been nearly a month since Renee had been killed. It still made Orson terribly upset to think about it, but he wasn't going to think about it, not anymore.
When he arrived at his villa, he had gotten word that Rhian, a woman he had a short romance with, had arrived in New Orleans. He had contacted her. She had told him that she was staying in a hotel nearby. Orson told her that she was welcome to stay in his villa, for as long as she needed.
So, now here it was. The night he was to pick Rhian up, and bring her back to his villa. Orson pulled his silver Lexus up at the front of the hotel, and got out. He made his way to her room, and knocked on the door, awaiting her to answer it.
|
|
|
Post by rhianmorgan on Feb 4, 2009 13:45:40 GMT -6
In the plush green embrace of the night garden, she tried to relax, tried to summon the confident, assured, even arrogant air which she normally withheld in this competitive, cut-throat arena they called the world. But she was conscious only of a growing, thrilling anxiety mixed with budding excitement. At last, at long last, she was going to be with him once more.
Suddenly, Rhian heard a knock at the door. She rushed to answer it, her dress swaying with the movement. Pulling back the dark mahogany door, Rhian’s crimson lips lifted to form a smile as she saw him.
For a moment she had the fleeting impression that the room was suddenly smaller. Orson did that, he had an aura that made everything shrink around him. Except perhaps herself. When Rhian had first laid eyes on Orson on those long ago eastern summers, she had risen to the challenge. She had extended herself to be his hostess, tending to him with an engrossed sense of fascination. Under his air of deference, there was something...she shook her head.
“Orson.” Her lacquered voice whispered his name. “It’s been such a long time.” She held her hand out for him to take it.
|
|
|
Post by orson on Feb 4, 2009 14:34:52 GMT -6
Rhian had answered the door, saying his name, and that it had been a long time. "That it has, my dear. To long, if you ask me." He said, as Rhian had offered her hand to him. Orson took her hand in his, and brought it up to his lips, to kiss it, before letting it gently fall back to her side.
"Are you ready?" Orson asked. It had, indeed, been to long. He had waited so long to see her again. Last time he had seen her, she had just became a vampiress. They had spent a week together. One which Orson never wanted to end. She was so beautiful, that even he felt lucky. For as long as he had been around, very few women had made him feel that way.
|
|
|
Post by rhianmorgan on Feb 4, 2009 16:10:02 GMT -6
“Is there really a need to rush?” She said leading him into her room.
The lounge/bedroom combo was dressed in flowing silk drapes that lulled down from the ceiling, falling gently on tilled marble that swung in the breeze emanating from the veranda. Antique furniture and exotic decor, made an attempt at duplicating a room of a Turkish embassy. It failed miserably, but instead gave off an impression of a colourful yet wistful bedroom of high society decadence.
“I have this place for a few more hours yet. Perhaps we should make the most of it.” She said as she sat at the foot of her bed. Her large, mascara framed eyes staring out toward him.
|
|
|
Post by orson on Feb 4, 2009 16:22:53 GMT -6
"I suppose not." Orson said, after she had asked if there as need for such rush. "After all. We have all the time in the world." He added with a smile. Rhian led him into the room. It was very fancy, and unique. In a way, it reminded him of the far east. Though, there was definitly a great difference in the style.
Then, she sat on teh bed, and said she had teh room for a few more hours, and said that they should make the most of it. Orson ondded, with a small smile creeping across his face. "I suppose we should. It does look rather nice, and quite expensive."
|
|
|
Post by rhianmorgan on Feb 4, 2009 16:50:55 GMT -6
He had followed her through, she knew he would. She knew there was more than one way to reel in the centre of her attentions. Her eyes gazed over his stern stature; it reminded her of those brief nights they shared long ago. She yearned to drag her claws down his back once more.
Her chest raised and lowered to her elevated breathing. Her tongue licked away the dryness from parted crimson lips. Her hair is the colour of her dress, the colour of the night. It is long and thick and shining, sitting calmly on her shoulders and in tresses down her back. Her skin a polished ivory, and gentle features which could only be accentuated since her turning. She is beautiful, but it is an unearthly, dangerous beauty; a powerful spell which will draw men to her at their peril. Rhian knew what she wanted, and when such a thing happens there could be no stopping her.
“Come to me.” She said, more longingly than demanding. Her voice was like wine, like dark soft fur, like a coil of smoke that seeps from the hearth fire to draw a man home from the hunt.
|
|
|
Post by orson on Feb 4, 2009 17:09:47 GMT -6
Rhian had said three simple words. Those were the best three words he had heard in centuries. He did as she had asked. He could tell that it was what she truly wanted. He did so, not because of her powerful seduction. No, he could see past that. He did so because it was truly what he wanted, also.
Orson stepped forward, to Rhian. He used his telepathy to bring her to her feet, and closer to him. When she was standing infront of him, he layed his hands loosely on her neck, and then place a gentle kiss on her lips.
|
|
|
Post by rhianmorgan on Feb 4, 2009 17:49:34 GMT -6
She recognised his force of mental will, when her feet arose by their own accord. She stood before him, as his hands rested on her neck. That sensitive area which brought so much pleasure.
As if reading her thoughts he caught her lips in a sweet kiss, and she felt a new electricity tingle through her, raising gooseflesh on her bare arms. She took those arms, and wrapped them around him.
“This.” She whispered with a hint of spice in her voice. “This is what happens, Orson. If you want it to happen.”
Without another word Rhian leant forward and reached with her delicate mouth Orson’s lips. She kissed him hungrily, passionately.
|
|
|
Post by orson on Feb 4, 2009 18:06:45 GMT -6
Rhian had said that these type things are what happened when you wished for it to be so. "I have wanted it to happen since we last met." Orson said, as Rhian passionately started the kiss again. She had wrapped her arms around him, and his were still resting on her shoulders, with his hands loosely on her neck.
Orson took his hands, and moved them. He took them, and ran them down Rhian's slender form, that was complimented by the silk dress. His hands stopped when they reached her waist. He rested them tehre, still gently kissing her.
|
|
|
Post by rhianmorgan on Feb 4, 2009 18:44:07 GMT -6
Every dark fantasy she had ever had of this moment sprang to life. Years she had waited for him, for the right moment, for the night, for him; touching herself in bed, thinking of the times she could taste his cold lips once more.
She closed her eyes as his hands travelled her body and she plunged deeper into the kiss. They were locked together in a languorous embrace. Her delicate tongue travelled past his lips, exploring that tiny cavern. Then her lips kissed his mouth, his cheeks, bit at his earlobes and back again to his mouth. Rhian wanted to engross herself in the pureness of his taste.
|
|
|
Post by orson on Feb 4, 2009 18:57:04 GMT -6
As Rhian's tongue had escaper her own mouth, and began to explore Orson's, he let hos do the same. Soon, Rhian had pulled her lips away from his, along with her tongue from his mouth. She had kissed his cheek, then nibbled on his ear a little bit.
Soon, she let her kiss travel back to his lips. When she had, he continued kissing her, just as deeply as before she broke the kiss. As Rhian had done last time, Orson did this time. He let his tongue press past their locked lips, and travel into her mouth, ash Rhian had done, and he expected her to do so again.
|
|
|
Post by rhianmorgan on Feb 4, 2009 20:52:21 GMT -6
Rhian kissed him deeply once more, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Each kiss found her more heady as if taken the most potent drug. Leisurely, her lips started their journey again, brushing his ear, nuzzling his neck. Exquisite sensations flooded her. Respond, respond, cried her tongue, her mouth, her breasts.
Rhian wound her arms tighter around him, her nails seeking purchase.
“I want you.” She whispered in his ear.
|
|
|
Post by orson on Feb 4, 2009 21:01:10 GMT -6
Rhian had began kissing other parts of his face, and then his neck. She whispered in his ear that she wanted him. "As do I..." Orson whispered seductively into her ear. He leaned his head down, and kissed her neck softly. Then, he trailed his hands back up to her shoulders. He slid his thumbs under the shoulder-straps of her dress, and pulled them back.
|
|
|
Post by rhianmorgan on Feb 5, 2009 0:52:04 GMT -6
His potent words let loose her passion, as she felt the swelling and the moistness of her inner self increase with desire to have him lay her down, fondle her breasts and lie between her legs.
The straps of the delicate dress came loose with ease and she allowed the material to slide down her body, revealing that she was wearing no undergarments. She stood there pressing her naked form against him as she slid her fingers over his body, undressing him in turn.
|
|