Categories > Anime/Manga > Inuyasha > A Reason to Dance
Hitomi Kagewaki filled his brandy glass yet again. His hand shook with anger and a few sloshes of liqueur fell onto the computer keyboard. He swore. His dark eyes never leaving the screen as the video of a young woman dancing looped through his media player for the hundredth time. He grabbed the glass and downed its contents before slamming it down on the desk. He shoved it angrily away, paying no attention to the sound of it shattering on the hard wood floor.
Hitomi stood, fuming and white hot with anger. He paced furiously, shooting angry glares at the offending scene playing on the screen. He should not have kicked her leg; he should have cut the fucking thing off!
His anger grew as he thought of her smiling at someone else. Touching someone else. Kissing someone else. Fucking someone else. Dancing for someone else.
The memory of their last night together was fresh in his mind; the candlelight dinner he had ordered and arranged on the best china had gone uneaten, the long stem roses had wilted, and the biggest shock of all, the proposal he had spent countless nights on and rehearsed to perfection, refused and his ring handed back to him.
Had he not treated her like a queen! Gave her every luxury; treated her to the most expensive restaurants with the reputation for being the hardest to get a reservation for, showered her with flowers from the most famous florists in New York, bottles of perfume from the finest perfumeries of Paris, boxes of the most decadent chocolates imported directly from the finest makers in Switzerland! Everything he did he did to make her happy and for what? To have it all thrown back in his fucking face! Denied the only thing he ever truly wanted in his whole, fucked up life...her.
He kicked a low side table across the room. The loud thump elicited a soft whimper from the next room. No matter how soft that sound was his excellent hearing heard it and he stopped his angry pacing and looked toward the door that connected the two rooms. His mood changed from hot anger to hot arousal. He had almost forgotten she was there, anxiously awaiting his touch. The perfect outlet for his anger.
Grabbing the near empty bottle of brandy as he passed the desk, he walked out of the dark office and into the adjoining bedroom, the sounds of Christina Aguilera's 'Dirrty' fading into the background.
This room was darker then the office. No window could be discerned from within the room. Every inch of wall was covered in various sized pictures of the same dark haired girl. There were close up pictures and some of her in public settings and several of her without clothing, and judging the by the angles of the shots, she had not been aware they were taken.
The only piece of furniture in the room was a large bed with white sheets that fell along the side and flowed romantically around its base. Tall white candles burned in their holders around the room. Flickering gently, they cast moving shadows about the room. However, there was plenty of light for his purpose.
The figure on the bed had stilled as he entered.
Drinking deeply from the bottle in his hands he slinked to the bed. The girl was awake again. This was a very good thing because he needed to relieve some anger; he was on the verge of loosing control.
He touched her foot with his index and forefinger and smirked as her body tensed. Moving slowly, delighting in each tremor, each whimper, he moved his fingers higher up her calf, along her inner thigh. He brushed the downy hair that covered her sex and smiled roguishly at her, seemingly oblivious to her tear stained face.
He continued to move his long fingers gently up her trembling body, over the silken flesh of her tummy, gently fingering her belly button before continuing, slipping his fingers firmly under her right breast and moving slowly over the pert nipple. He watched her face closely, enjoying the shudder as he pulled on her nipple before trailing his fingers up to her throat. Grasping her head gently he leaned over her, his face hovering over hers as he gently wiped away her tears with his thumb.
His eyes perused her face, taking in the smudged makeup and the tendrils of hair clinging to the dirty tear tracks that streaked her bruised face. Her blue eyes begged him for release.
"My love," His voice was low and purposefully seductive. "You are so beautiful."
Her eyes no longer held the hope of release he saw before and her whimpering was increasing with each caress of his fingers, each firm touch of his hand.
He pulled away from her and leisurely removed his clothing, as if teasing an anxious lover. His body throbbed and his sex ached almost painfully as the woman began to pull frantically against her restraints.
He approached her casually as if she was not some desperate thing vainly attempting to escape him. Mounting her struggling body, he seated himself between her flailing legs, pressing the full weight of his body upon her hips and firmly pressing her into the mattress. He lovingly kissed and reverently sucked on her chest until she ceased her frantic struggling, surrendering to his need once again.
She turned her head away from him, hating the way he looked as he used her. She did not cry out as he entered her nor as his bucking increased in pace and force. Instead, she lay limp and focused on something other then the pain from her abused body and the rawness of her sex. She focused on the many pictures of the girl she so closely resembled. The girl who should be here in her place. The girl who escaped him.
The girl whose name he cried out harshly against her neck in pants of hot breath.
The name of the girl who would haunt her forever.
Kagome.
Hitomi stood, fuming and white hot with anger. He paced furiously, shooting angry glares at the offending scene playing on the screen. He should not have kicked her leg; he should have cut the fucking thing off!
His anger grew as he thought of her smiling at someone else. Touching someone else. Kissing someone else. Fucking someone else. Dancing for someone else.
The memory of their last night together was fresh in his mind; the candlelight dinner he had ordered and arranged on the best china had gone uneaten, the long stem roses had wilted, and the biggest shock of all, the proposal he had spent countless nights on and rehearsed to perfection, refused and his ring handed back to him.
Had he not treated her like a queen! Gave her every luxury; treated her to the most expensive restaurants with the reputation for being the hardest to get a reservation for, showered her with flowers from the most famous florists in New York, bottles of perfume from the finest perfumeries of Paris, boxes of the most decadent chocolates imported directly from the finest makers in Switzerland! Everything he did he did to make her happy and for what? To have it all thrown back in his fucking face! Denied the only thing he ever truly wanted in his whole, fucked up life...her.
He kicked a low side table across the room. The loud thump elicited a soft whimper from the next room. No matter how soft that sound was his excellent hearing heard it and he stopped his angry pacing and looked toward the door that connected the two rooms. His mood changed from hot anger to hot arousal. He had almost forgotten she was there, anxiously awaiting his touch. The perfect outlet for his anger.
Grabbing the near empty bottle of brandy as he passed the desk, he walked out of the dark office and into the adjoining bedroom, the sounds of Christina Aguilera's 'Dirrty' fading into the background.
This room was darker then the office. No window could be discerned from within the room. Every inch of wall was covered in various sized pictures of the same dark haired girl. There were close up pictures and some of her in public settings and several of her without clothing, and judging the by the angles of the shots, she had not been aware they were taken.
The only piece of furniture in the room was a large bed with white sheets that fell along the side and flowed romantically around its base. Tall white candles burned in their holders around the room. Flickering gently, they cast moving shadows about the room. However, there was plenty of light for his purpose.
The figure on the bed had stilled as he entered.
Drinking deeply from the bottle in his hands he slinked to the bed. The girl was awake again. This was a very good thing because he needed to relieve some anger; he was on the verge of loosing control.
He touched her foot with his index and forefinger and smirked as her body tensed. Moving slowly, delighting in each tremor, each whimper, he moved his fingers higher up her calf, along her inner thigh. He brushed the downy hair that covered her sex and smiled roguishly at her, seemingly oblivious to her tear stained face.
He continued to move his long fingers gently up her trembling body, over the silken flesh of her tummy, gently fingering her belly button before continuing, slipping his fingers firmly under her right breast and moving slowly over the pert nipple. He watched her face closely, enjoying the shudder as he pulled on her nipple before trailing his fingers up to her throat. Grasping her head gently he leaned over her, his face hovering over hers as he gently wiped away her tears with his thumb.
His eyes perused her face, taking in the smudged makeup and the tendrils of hair clinging to the dirty tear tracks that streaked her bruised face. Her blue eyes begged him for release.
"My love," His voice was low and purposefully seductive. "You are so beautiful."
Her eyes no longer held the hope of release he saw before and her whimpering was increasing with each caress of his fingers, each firm touch of his hand.
He pulled away from her and leisurely removed his clothing, as if teasing an anxious lover. His body throbbed and his sex ached almost painfully as the woman began to pull frantically against her restraints.
He approached her casually as if she was not some desperate thing vainly attempting to escape him. Mounting her struggling body, he seated himself between her flailing legs, pressing the full weight of his body upon her hips and firmly pressing her into the mattress. He lovingly kissed and reverently sucked on her chest until she ceased her frantic struggling, surrendering to his need once again.
She turned her head away from him, hating the way he looked as he used her. She did not cry out as he entered her nor as his bucking increased in pace and force. Instead, she lay limp and focused on something other then the pain from her abused body and the rawness of her sex. She focused on the many pictures of the girl she so closely resembled. The girl who should be here in her place. The girl who escaped him.
The girl whose name he cried out harshly against her neck in pants of hot breath.
The name of the girl who would haunt her forever.
Kagome.
Sign up to rate and review this story