Ruby's given me the directions to Mr. Gold's house, and I'm standing in front of it now, my heart in my throat, legs about to give in. The house is massive, three stories tall, casting sinister looking shadows in the evening. It looks kinda threatening, and if I didn't know the owner, it would have creeped me out, but since I do, it's just fascinating, and I can't wait to explore what lies behind it's walls.

I ring the door. I brought a bottle of wine, even though he told me he got things covered, which can mean so many things. I smirk at the thought, blushing some, hoping he'll cover my body with steamy kisses.

A shadow in the window by the door tells me he's approaching, and I swallow before it opens, anxious to see him. He's standing there in a black shirt, which is unbuttoned at the top, trailing down his chest, and a matching waistcoat and pants, his eyes scintillating as he greets me. "Good evening! Welcome," he smiles.
"Thanks," I say and step over the threshold. "I brought wine," I say, handing him the bag with a rather expensive bottle, knowing he's a man of smiliar taste.
"You shoudn't have," he says, while I take off my jacket, wearing a tight skirt and a semi-sheer blouse and the pumps I bought the day before.
"You look stunning," he compliments me, placing his hand on my back, leading me into his home.

The table is set, and the food smells delicious. Mr. Gold opens the bottle I brough and pours us a glass each. We raise our glasses before taking a sip, and I let the crimson wine linger in my mouth, savoring the exquisite taste. "Money well spent," I think to myself.

"The dinner needs a few more minutes," Gold says. "I'd be happy to give you a tour of the house in the meantime."
"I'd like that," I smile.
Room for room I learn more about his taste, and I love how he's decorated the place. It got warm tones and intricate details all over, but it's also manly and rough, like his voice giving a short recap of each room.
His bedroom's very sensual and I find myself running a hand over the lavish silk spread on his bed. He's standing close behind me, and suddenly I feel his hand sliding down mine, still lingering on his bed. His fingers caress mine, before venturing up my arm, across my chest and slightly around my neck, dragging his index finger alongside my jaw line. I sigh loudly at that, and feel his warm breath at the back of my neck, making me shiver with delight.
The cooking bell rings, and we snap out of it, but his hand is dangerously low on my back as we walk downstairs.

We eat, talk and finish the bottle of wine. He tells me about his life here in Storybrooke, which he warned me is just as boring as the town itself, and he stands correct, though he himself is nothing but alluring. I'm willing to bet there's much more to what he tells me, but I have a feeling that he somehow can't elaborate much. Maybe in time.

After dinner we sit down in the livingroom for dessert, which is a fresh sorbet, and dark roasted coffee. "Mmmmm," I hum at the taste of the sweet, yet, sour taste of the raspberry frost filling my palate. "You made this?" I ask.
"Of course," he smiles, taking a bit of chocolate from a bowl, dipping it in his coffee. "Try this," he says, bringing the melted treat to my lips. I take a bite, moaning lightly at the delicious taste. He licks his fingers stained by chocolate, and I reach for a piece myself to offer to him. He takes a bite, and I lick my own fingers. He looks intensly at me, and I somewhat hazily at him, overcome once more with the urge and attraction I first felt when I saw him on the street.
I feel myself leaning forward, like metal to a magnet, and he meets me full on. "Aaaahhhh," I cry out, going off my hinges over this man. He pushes me back onto the couch, his hand moving up my thigh. He attacks my neck, kissing it hungrily, before nipping at my earlobe, his tounge tracing the outline of my ear. I grip at his shirt, pulling it up from his pants, while feeling his hardness against my body. I try to open his pants, but he stops me.
"No, no, dearie, this is all about you," he purrs against my ear. I shudder at his words of pleaurable promises, and moan when his hand ventures closer to my womanhood. He tugs at the fabric of my pantis, moving them to one side, his fingers brushing over my soaked slit. "Oh, do I make you wet, dearie?" he growls, his face burried in the nook of my neck.
"Yessssss," I murr. Suddenly I feel his fingers slipping inside me, and I mewl out loud, his fingers exploring my wetness. They go deep, and are sligtly curved, going at that one spot sure to drive me mad. He plays me to the beat of my moans, kissing my neck, jawline and lips while doing so, a multitasking don juan at work to give me great satisfaction. And he does not fail, his thumb working my clit as well, and I feel like a ticking bomb ready to go off at any moment, and when I do, there's so much fireworks painting the sky, you'd could go blind looking at it. I convulse massively around his fingers, still going at that spot, throwing my head back and scream in utter rapture, coming again, and again. 

He pulls his hand slowly away from my womanhood, looking me in the eyes, while licking the taste of me off his fingers. I just lay there panting hard, burning with even more intense desire for this spellbinding man, dressed in all black and villainized by the town. "No, that's what I call dessert," he says smirking. I got no words, I'm still soaring after multiple orgasms.

We sit up, the sorbet melted, the coffee luke warm. "Can I get you anything to drink?" he asks.
"I'll have whatever you're having," I reply, my breathing more regular now.
He gets up and I follow him with my gaze. As he pours two glasses, I stand up, and remove my panties completely, which he notices at the corner of his eye, his lips pulling up in a mischievous grin. I walk over to him, standing behind him, sliding my hands to the front of his pants, opening them. This time he doesn't stop me. He empties the content of the glass before turing to face me, and I start to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt. I lean forward kissing his chest, his neck, biting his jaw, and he groans raspy. I kiss him sloppy, and he kisses me back, before I turn, walking over to the head of the dinner table, hiking up my skirt, revealing my backside. Mr. Gold squints his eyes, giving me a nodding look of lust and craving, walking over to me. I lean seductivly over the table, as he's coming up behind me, sliding his hand up between my thighs, making me spread my legs. "You want it, dearie?" he asks, a hand on my hip now.
"I want it," I declare. "I want it." That's all I need to say before the fabric between us is no more, and he rams himself into me.
"Ahhhhh," I moan, feeling him filling me. He fucks me hard and steady, and I'm amazed at his capabilities given his leg and cane, but nevertheless, he thrusts himself into my willing cunt while I claw at the tabletop in ecstasy. He slows down some, thrusting in slower, harder, deeper. I gasp for air as his cock finds the x marking the spot and plead him to fuck me out of my good mind. And he does. Oh god, he does. I scream out, climaxing ferociously around his manhood. He's coming too, growling savagely as he does. He slows down after I've finished my moaning melody of ecstatic delight, my upper half sprawled out over the table, my hands still clutching the tablecloth. 

After straightening up some after our impact of strong, uncontainable desire, I take my drink and sit back down on the couch, looking at him making his way back to it too.
"I gotta hand it to you, Maeve, you've made a rather dull story quite interesting," he clinks his glass into mine.
"Is there a happy ending to that story?" I ask, smiling.
"It remains to be seen," Mr. Gold finishes his drink. "But for the time being, let's just keep on doing what we're already doing, and see where that takes us."
"I can make do with that," I reply, nestling closer to him. He puts an arm around me, kissing the crown of my head. I soon drift off to sleep, leaving the man holding me wondering over a past in pieces and a future unclear.