Chapter 23 #2
Slowly, giving her all the time in the world to protest, he stepped behind her.
“Watson will be tied to the front of the train. Sherlock will be given control of the switch that will decide whether or not the train continues down its normal path. Doing so will murder fifteen innocents—who will feel no pain in their drugged and unconscious state before the train rolls to a stop allowing Watson to be rescued. However, if he throws the switch, Watson will smash head first and at full steam, into the unfinished dock, there.”
Her breath caught in her throat as he slid her shawl from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
Finishing undoing the laces of her dress, he slipped the shoulders down her arms. The warmth of his touch against her bare skin left goosebumps in his wake.
He leaned down and kissed her shoulder, sending another shiver through her.
Inch by inch, kiss by kiss, he trailed his lips to her ear, before he murmured to her. “He will feel every second of it as the metal twists, and warps, and rips his body to shreds.” He said it like it was the most erotic of speeches, and not about her sister brutally dying in a train crash.
“I—”
One of his hands slipped down the front of her corset, painfully squeezing her breast, causing her to gasp.
“He will have to choose—an agonizing death for his only boon companion—” He rolled his tongue along the lobe of her ear before nipping it. “Or a painless death for fifteen innocent souls who will be none the wiser.”
“James…” She felt breathless. Too warm. Too cold. Her body was electric at his touch.
“There will come a day when I betray you. When you become a liability. And on that day, I vow to give you a quick and painless death. You will never see it coming. Like the souls on the tracks tonight.” His other hand wrapped around her throat and pulled her back against his chest. “That is my promise to you, my lovely Irene. When it is time to say goodbye, I will let you go gently.”
Her eyes slipped half shut. She couldn’t help it.
He pushed her dress the rest of the way off, letting it pool around her ankles. She had opted to wear a walking dress. Something without a bustle and all the fuss if she was going to be stomping through a muddy construction yard.
Or…or if she was doing this.
Was he hypnotizing her? It felt like it.
Yanking the strings of her petticoat, it joined her dress. Victorian garb wasn’t meant for nonsense like this, but he seemed to know precisely what to do. Then her drawers went with them, leaving her only in her chemise and her corset on top of it.
“For I have decided something, Irene.” He kissed her jaw, his hand running down her thigh. He began to ball up the fabric of her chemise, pulling the bottom hem closer to him.
“What?” The word left her in a nearly silent exhale.
“I think I shall have you for my wife after all.” His hand slid between her legs, cupping her core, his fingers wasting no time in delving into her body, finding precisely how badly she was doing at fighting her attraction to him.
The growl that left his throat was nearly primal. “It is only practical…”
“Hn—how—” She should stop him. She needed to stop him. She wrapped an arm around behind his neck and held onto him as he began to pump his fingers into her body, her eyes almost rolling into the back of her head. “How so?”
“You are an intelligent woman. Clever. Devious. Rational. You know me for what I am—I needn’t hide myself nor my business dealings from you. And being wed will finally quiet all of the irritating gossip.” He stroked his thumb over the sensitive bud at her core. “And you are…quite pleasing.”
She nearly shrieked and had to bite her lip to keep from doing so. They were trying to hide. “And what do I get from this arrangement besides a painless death?”
His hand left her abruptly as he fisted her hair and yanked her around to face him. Pushing her roughly backwards until she hit one of the support columns between the windows, he picked her up by the waist. She had no choice but to hold onto him for dear life as he pulled her back down onto him.
Lips against hers swallowed her cry of ecstasy as he pressed himself into her body, filling her in that one powerful stroke. Hooking her legs over his arms, she couldn’t take it anymore. She gave in to the strength in him as he unleashed himself on her, rutting himself into her without mercy.
He wasn’t taking pity on her.
And she wanted none.
Because this was wrong.
Sidney was going to hate her. And she had every right to.
But she’d never felt anything like this before in her life. Never felt a connection like this—physical or not—with anyone ever. And if that was what Sidney had been experiencing the entire time? No wonder Sidney was always harassing Sasha to get out more.
When Moriarty broke the kiss, his lips hovered by her ear, his words haggard and strained—the pleasure clearly affecting him as well.
“You know my influence. The power I wield. The resources I have at my disposal. The world would be at your feet—anything you wanted, you would have. To learn what you wish. To see the world as you wish to see it. No restrictions upon you.” He slammed himself into her then, harder than before—hard enough that she almost saw stars.
God, it felt amazing. She dug her nails into his shoulders. “Again—” She said through an exhale. She wanted it like that. Brutal. Unforgiving.
“As my lady wishes…” He pulled himself out of her almost all the way before ramming himself into her again.
The sheer bliss of it was too much. Everything in her went taut as ecstasy claimed her. She leaned forward, kissing him to muffle her cry as she shuddered on and around him, her head spinning.
He roared against her, repeating the gesture again, and again, and again, pummeling her. She would be bruised in the morning—if there was a morning—and she didn’t care. This was perfect. This was exactly what she needed.
It was wrong.
And she loved it.
Twice more, he drove her over the edge like that until she was certain she was going to lose her mind from it. But he couldn’t go forever. His thrusts quickened, though they didn’t lessen in force as his breaths became shallow and urgent.
Seeking her lips again, he kissed her just as harshly as he made love to her—if that’s even what she could call what they were doing—snarling as he somehow seemed to find a way to core himself a deeper place inside her body.
He pressed himself there, body going rigid as he tensed and surged, a shuddering wave passing through him as he finished in turn.
She clung to him as they both came down from their respective highs.
Slowly, he let her down from the wall, but not before kissing her with a shocking amount of tenderness.
It wasn’t love. He wasn’t capable of such a thing.
But tenderness? Fondness? Kindness? Who was to say that wasn’t in the cards for Irene Adler?
The whole world at her feet. It would be what the character would want. Freedom to be who she wanted to be. And all it would mean would be a painless death the moment she became a liability to Moriarty. “Ten years.”
“Hm?” He seemed half lost in the bliss of it still.
“A guarantee of a minimum ten years before I am dead at your hands.” She let her chemise fall back down to her ankles. At least he hadn’t tried to take her corset off. That would’ve been a pain in the ass to get back on. “I would hate to say yes and find myself dead in the morning.”
He paused in redoing his pants. “Six.”
“Eight.”
“Granted.” He held out his hand to her. “Forgive me for not having a ring prepared. This was all quite unexpected.”
She shook his hand. “Forgiven, if you will also promise me one other thing.”
“And what is that?”
“You will look at me as a partner, not merely a wife, when you can.” Reaching out, she smoothed his clothes for him. “I understand that it will not always be suitable to do so.”
He stepped forward and kissed her unexpectedly, drawing her into an embrace. When he released her, he was smiling, just a little. “I see why you perplex him so. Granted. Now. Let us redress you. The evening’s entertainment is about to begin.”
I’m sorry, Sidney. For more things than one.