Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to Nikita.


First of all, I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed this fanfiction and for giving me the incentive to write part II. I tried to get this up on Sunday, the 27th of February, but for some reason there was a bug in the system that wasn't letting me upload it or my other fanfiction story, The Prince and the Warrior Woman (a Zutara tale) and I haven't had time to put it up since then. (I've had school and went away for spring break). Secondly, unfortunately to the disappointment of those to whom I know this news will bring, this story is a one-shot and not a full-length fanfic story; therefore, after part two I am leaving this fanfic as it is.

However, for those reviewers who enjoy my writing and would like me to write a full-on Michael/Nikita fanfiction, please send me either a personal message or a message through the review. If I feel that enough people would like me to continue, then I most certainly would be honored to do so. (Actually, when I wrote this, I thought that this could serve as an excerpt for a Nikita fanfic.) Lastly, as this is the end of part II of Temptation, I hope you all enjoy it.



"Michael," she breathed expectantly, a smirk in her voice.

"Nikita," he countered dangerously in that sexy, gravely voice to which she had grown accustomed.

"Nikita, I need that USB," he simply said, but she could hear the steel in his quiet whisper. "Give it to me and I'll leave. Division will never have to know."

"You know I can't do that, Michael," she replied tauntingly, a sliver of a smile coloring her playful tone.

"Nikita, I don't have time for this...Give. Me. The. Device."

"No," she returned evenly, capturing his intense eyes with hers.

"Give me the USB, Nikita," Michael commanded, blocking and delivering a frenzy of fast-paced blows in time with his prior student.

"Sorry. No can do," she replied, producing an amazing flying kick that threw Michael to the door, shaking the very foundation of the inn.

"Shit!" they half-shouted in unison upon hearing the angry footsteps of the innkeeper headed their way. He didn't have the decency to even knock, for they could hear the jangling of keys echoing through the chilled night air.

Finally, slightly panicking, Nikita spoke. "Kiss me," she half-demanded.

"What?" Michael asked incredulously.

"Trust me. Just do it. Ki-"

Michael didn't have to be told twice...Her hands found the buttons of his deep, navy blue shirt and, impatient and unable to deal with so many clasps in the darkness, she ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere before falling to the floor like crystal raindrops. ..."Quick, he's coming. Get down on the floor!" she spoke, pulling him on top of her as they descended...

The door began to crack open hesitantly and Nikita moaned loudly, grabbing Michael's face to deliver an erotic open-mouthed kiss ... "He's coming in," Nikita half-moaned breathlessly, the heat of his bare chest against her making her whimper. "Do something."

"What would you like me to do," he groaned seductively, a smile in his voice.

..."Hump me," she said hesitantly.

"Are you s-" Her dirty words were making him horny and hard as hell...He didn't know how far he could go without stopping. He was afraid he'd lose control.

"Yes! He's coming in!"

...The innkeeper walked in and Michael swiftly parted her legs, dry-humping her as she slung her legs over his hips.

"Alright!" the grumpy, old innkeeper shouted...as he walked into the room... "What's with all the noi-"

Nikita could only imagine the look on his face as he found the two of them tangled on the floor with her supposedly close to orgasm. "OH, MY GOD!" she shouted, with Michael's devilishly smiling face burrowed into the crook of her neck. "OOh! God! Harder! Faster!" she screamed, rocking her hips maddeningly fast against Michael's. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Nikita could feel Michael getting harder and harder with each passing second of their act.

"Nikita," Michael managed to say, close to climax...Nikita... moaned as she tightened her legs around him, forcing him to come as she orgasmed from their friction...

..."Nikita," he spoke...a fire burning within his eyes. "There's something I've been to tell you for a long time now." Nikita held her breath as her tear-brightened eyes met his. No. He couldn't do this to her; not now. "Nikita," he continued, brushing the back of his hand against the side of her face, "I lo-"

She put a single graceful finger to his lips, effectively silencing him instantly. She couldn't hear him say it...not yet. She wouldn't. In her mind, if he didn't say it then it wasn't true, and if it wasn't true then she couldn't get her heart broken again. "I know," she spoke, a sob threatening to overpower her calm voice. "And I you," she finished, putting her hand over her heart and then over his.

"Come to bed with me," he half asked, half stated. Michael would like to think that he was still a gentleman despite the situation and that he would stop if Nikita asked him to. However, he was beginning to have some serious doubts. He only prayed that she would agree. He needed her. Badly.

"I...I can't, Michael. I'm sorry but I just can't," Nikita spoke, her voice breaking with unshed tears as she tried to turn away from him, unable to meet his gaze. Michael's hands stopped her though as they tightened around her arms, jarring her back to reality.

"Why not?" he whispered lowly. There was something in his voice that physically made her chest hurt. It felt as though she had been impaled thrice times over by a jagged, barb-tipped spear. That simple question, those two words, weren't filled with hate or anger like she had anticipated; no, it brimmed with disappointment and a lifetime of anguish.

As much as she loved him, she couldn't do this. It wouldn't be fair to anyone...especially him. Sure, they'd revel in the pleasure now, but in the morning, she knew that they'd both regret their actions. "Because, Michael, you're Division and...and I'm not. We're on opposite ends of the spectrum, here! There are things that you don't know about me; things that I can't tell you-"

"Things like Alex working for you? Things like her framing Thom for being the mole?" he countered seriously, though his tone remained light.

Nikita was in shock and for a long while she remained silent. She was frozen; her wide, fearful eyes unable to slink away from Michael's iron gaze. "How long have you known? When did you find out?" she asked evenly, slowly, not even trying to deny his claim. What was the point? Sometimes she thought he knew her better than she knew herself.

"I didn't know. At least, not until just now; your face told me eveything, gave you away. You always did let your emotions get the best of you, Nikita; that was your problem."


"Alex is safe...for now. I'll protect her for as long as I can. But you shouldn't have brought her into this," the seasoned agent argued. "If Percy gets wind of this, he'll kill her...You know that. You'll have to-"

"I know," she whispered to herself.

"Now," he spoke, pulling the dark-haired beauty closer to him, "there are no more secrets between us. No more guilt. There's no reason that we can't have this night for ourselves."

"Your wrong, Michael. This can never happen between us."

"What is it?" Michael asked, suspicion growing in his voice as his slitted eyes captured hers. "You're hiding something from me. What is it that you're not telling me, Nikita."

"I can't do this because-because I'm...I'm involved with someone else," she breathed, not actually lying to him since she was involved with quite a lot of people. She would simply let the implications behind her words soak in. Maybe then he'd leave her alone.

"What did you say? Who? Who is it?"

Or not.

"A man," she answered vaguely, hoping he'd get the hint that she didn't want to talk about it.

"Who is it Nikita?" he asked again, seeing through her evasiveness. She could almost feel the cutting steel in his voice.

"Ryan Fletcher," the femme fatal sighed.

Michael chuckled darkly, his fingers clenching around Nikita's arms in a vice-like grip. "I don't believe this...when they told me, I didn't believe it. You've got to be kidding me..."

"What are you-"

"After your little adventure with...Fletcher," Michael sneered disgustedly; the name left a bitter taste in his mouth, "we sent a scout out to tail him, and where should they see him but in a bar with a certain long-legged brunette."

"I don't-"

"The scout watched your little rendezvous and when he reported back to Division, he told Percy that he saw the two of you...kissing."


"Is it true?"

"Yes," she admitted, feeling a little guilty for reasons beyond her.

"Tell me, Nikita, do you love him?" Michael whispered dangerously as he approached her, closing the distance between them. There was no where to run and Nikita had no desire to do so. She would face Michael like she did with everything else. She was no coward.

"I care about him deeply."

"That's not what I asked," he countered. "Do. You. Love. Him?"

"Yes," she exhaled, closing her eyes against the lie which burned in her mouth like acid.

"You're such a liar," Michael spoke half-heartedly, a small smile on his face which failed to warm his eyes.

"Michael," Nikita spoke, placing her hand on that of his which cupped her cheek, "don't...don't do thi-"

But before Nikita could finish, Michael lips were upon hers, tugging and sucking gently and passionately. This was the kind of kiss that said 'I love you' rather than 'I want to have crazy sex with you right now'. It broke her heart.

"I'll leave right now and walk away," Michael said, withdrawing from her as he regained his breath, "if you can honestly look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't feel anything for me, that you don't love me."


"Well?" he spoke, cutting her off; not wanting to hear her slew of excuses.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Nikita spoke brokenly, tipping her head downwards as both of Michael's hands framed her face softly.

"Just, for once in your life, stop playing games with me, Nikita. All you have to do is look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't love me. That's it; nothing could be easier. If you can do that, then I'll walk out of your life and you'll never see me again. I give you my word."


"I don't want to hear it; just do this one thing for me...please."

"I-I...I can't," she whispered, admitting defeat.

"Look at me," Michael commanded gently, lifting her chin with his thumb and forefinger until her tear-brightened eyes met his own. Nikita already knew what Michael was going to say. Earlier, she had stopped him; this time she would let him say his piece and hope that the powers that be would have mercy on her damaged soul. "I love you, Nikita. I love you. I always have..."

"What about Percy and-"

"Damn Percy. This isn't about him right now. This is about us! It doesn't matter to me who you were in your past and who you are now. I don't care about the fact that you're working to destroy us with Alex or that you're involved with Fletcher! And do you know why, Nikita? It's because I love you. Why can't you understand that?"

"Oh, Michael...I-"

"So," he continued, his lips touching Nikita's briefly before taking her in his muscled arms, "I'm asking you again...come to bed with me?"

Nikita couldn't find the words to talk. So she did the next best thing. Stretching up on her tip toes like the most skilled prima ballerina, she wrapped her arms around Michael's neck, playing with the edge of his dark locks and touched her lips to his. It was, at first, a chaste kiss; a kiss filled with longing and heartache and pure, unadulterated passion. But that chastity soon melted in the fire of their lust. Her tongue darted out to tauntingly trace the outline of Michael's supple, pouting lips, and his sturdy hands gripped her waist tightly in response.

"Stop teasing me," he moaned against her mouth.

"I'm not," she challenged boldly, leaving the warmth of his lips to brand a trail of sizzling kisses down the side of his pulsing neck.

"Oh, really? So, is this your answer, then?"

"Maybe," she crooned seductively.

Michael seized Nikita by the arms and backing her up against the nearest wall as he slung her legs high around his hips.

"Michael!" she exclaimed as he sucked the pulse point of her neck shamelessly.

"I want an answer," he almost growled, brushing the apex of his still-clothed thighs against the black lace shielding her womanhood.

"Yes," Nikita exhaled in a shaky breath, and with that Michael descended upon her lips, assaulting them with his smoldering marks of affection. As soon as she spoke, Nikita felt Michael's hands on the back of her thighs, supporting her as he quickly carried them away towards the master four-post bed. With all the grace of an angel, he gently laid her down on the bed, making quick work of getting rid of his pants and charcoal boxers before joining her. Nikita could feel the weight of the mattress sink as he crawled onto the bed in an almost playful, predatoral manner. Slowly, he climbed towards her like a panther stalking a defenseless bird, his eyes never leaving hers as he approached. This, for some reason, made the femme fatal smile, for it was as though they were playing a game rather than about to make love.

Before she knew it, Michael was upon her; his limbs entwined with hers as he gazed at her with a look that seemed to transcend the bounds of the human word 'love.'

Michael seemed to misinterpret her wonderment and speculation for hesitance and took her by the upper arms, swiftly raising her towards him. Both sat kneeling towards one another on the warm, sheeted bed, searching the other's eyes for the answers to questions they dared not speak aloud.

"Nikita," Michael began, his knuckles kissing the side of Nikita's face as he spoke, "if you tell me to stop right now, I will stop. No one will have to know and we'll never speak of this again. You have my word. You don't have to do anything that you don't want to."

Nikita turned away from him, laughing softly into the darkness. "Now whose the liar?" she returned, calling his bluff. "Who said that I'm not doing this of my own free will?" Michael's eyes found hers and she could see the fiery hope which blazed there. "I. Want. You," she spoke simply. "Besides, you and I both know that nobody could make me do something that I didn't want to do...especially you."

"Don't be too sure about that," he whispered; his tongue just barely grazing the shell of her ear as he spoke. "Because before this night is over, I'm going to make you scream my name so loud that all of Paris will have heard you."

"Don't bet on it. If anything, you'll be the one screaming my name before the dawn breaks."


"Stop talking," Nikita commanded, silencing him with her mouth, "and kiss me."

Ever so slowly, the two skilled assasins descended onto the soft mattress once more; their lips, arms, and legs locked with one another in an inseparable hold. It didn't take long for Michael to find the small, concealed clasp of his lover's brassiere, and, with a pinch of his forefinger and thumb, he rid her of the wispy, spider-lace garment. Nikita moaned from the contact of the chilled air to her exposed chest; the frigid atmosphere forcefully building the soft, senitive tissue of her dusky peaks.

"I want you so badly," Michael groaned as his lips descended to her chest, plastering her left breast with butterfly kisses until his tongue found her beautifully puckered, proud, dark tip. A low, primitive almost guttural sound erupted from the back of Nikita's throat and all Michael wanted to do was spear the length of him inside of her...over and over and over again. The only thing that seemed to hold him back was the fact that he really was in bed with the love of his life and the feel of her passionate hands running up and down the contours of his arms, shoulders, and back wasn't the product of some misguided fantasy in the middle of the night; it was real. For that reason, and that reason alone, he would take his time with his beautiful faux rival and live out every fantasy he had ever dreamed of until the break of dawn. If he knew anything, he knew one thing for certain: Nikita would be sore in the morning.

"Stop thinking so hard," Nikita spoke breathlessly; her fingers grasping desperately at Michael's dark locks as she took note of his furrowed brow.

"Yes, Ma'am," Michael rasped sarcastically yet enthusiastically, switching his sights to his lover's other breast and showering it with equal attention. As he did so, his teeth running lightly over the erected tissue, his right hand traveled wantonly over and down the side planes of her toned abdomen until he found the last scrap of clothing barring their union. His forefinger found and hooked the stretch of material binding the patch of lace which concealed her womanhood, tugging at it in a suggestive, erotic manner. Seeming to get the message, the dark-haired siren raised her hips ever so slightly, accomodating herself to his unspoken request. At this, Michael did not hesitate. As his lips found the crook of Nikita's neck, sucking mercilessly at her marble-smooth skin, his rough knuckles gently scraped against the length of her thigh as he removed the sensual cloth, inching it down slowly and creating a friction that was not entirely unpleasant.

"Look at me," Michael spoke; one hand cupping the side of Nikita's face, the other resting dangerously close to her womanhood on her inner thigh. " I have a confession to make, as well. I want you to know that I know why you did what...what you did at the airport. I was wrong to blame you...and for that I'm sorry."

"Michael-" Nikita began, running her hands through his hair and over his shoulders as she spoke.

"Shhhh," he crooned, running his thumb over her swollen lips. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. I don't want there to be any regrets between us before we do this."

"What about the USB?" Nikita asked, almost afraid of what his answer would be.

"I don't care about the USB. I don't want it," Michael replied. "All I want right now is you, Nikita. That's all I've ever wanted."

Nikita wanted to profess her love to Michael more than anything else in existence, but despite the stony, samurai-like mask that she wore, she was inexplicably afraid. She knew from past experiences that it would only lead to heartache.

"But if you don't say it now...you may never get the chance to do so again," a little voice whispered in her head.

"He'll break my heart," she countered internally.

"Life is filled with days of sunshine and days of rain. You can't be afraid to go outside just because there might be a torrential down-pour later. You'd never be happy if you lived like that; you'd never truly live."

"I don't know..."

"Take a chance; he loves you."

"But Daniel loved me too...and look what happened."

"Michael isn't Daniel..."

Michael could see in Nikita's doe-brown eyes the inner turmoil which warred within. He knew that she wanted to tell him something but he didn't know what it was, and, what's more, he wouldn't force her. She would tell him in her own time.

Yet, what the exotic, rogue agent would say next would shock them both.

"Damn the consequences," she thought. "If I don't say it now, I'll regret it forever..."

"Michael," she breathed, boldly propping up her naked body on one hand until her eyes were level with his. "What you feel for your wife," she spoke; her voice fading a little at seeing the pain of his face when she mentioned his wife, "and what I feel for Daniel...that will never change. But I want you to know that I have always loved you and that, too, will never change."

The room was unmistakabley quiet and calm, and only the distinct crackling of the blazing firewood threatened to dispel the taut, mounting passion so palpable within the lovers' bedchamber. Michael's eyes roamed up and down Nikita's glorious, naked form slowly and unashamedly. To him, in this very moment, she was the epitome of a beautiful sex goddess. Her dark tresses were mussed in such a sexy way, tangled and strewn all over her slender form, that it leant her the appearance of a naughty, mischevious minx or sprite. The warm light from the fireplace had cast a rosy, glowing shade over half of her figure, allowing him to see much more of her seductive silouhette than the silver light of the moon had permitted.

She was too beautiful for words, and before she could talk again, he quickly stole a chaste kiss from her pouting lips. The kiss seemed to last for an eternity, speaking volumes of his desire for her and serving as a silent entreaty which begged her to end her torture and allow him to sink himself within her warm sheathe. As he withdrew, however, her half-lidded eyes caught his possessive ones and he knew that she wasn't finished talking. Her body said Take me but her eyes said Wait.

"You don't know how long I've wanted this," Nikita spoke shakily as Michael's strong arms enveloped her in a lovelorn embrace. "You know, I fell in love with you the second time we sparred in Division and you defeated me despite my former victory over you. You were tenacious and just as relentless like me. I loved you even as I went rogue and decided to fight back against Percy. I love you still, I love you now. And," Nikita smiled wickedly, speaking slowly and deliberately as she stared Michael in the eyes, "whether I love you or not tomorrow...well that gonna depend on how good you are to me tonight..."

"Oh, I'm very good," Michael responded, a sliver of a smile breaking through the gruff rasp in his voice

"We'll see," Nikita chuckled, pulling Michael down towards her as she descended onto the sheets once more. The warmth of his bare chest sent a bolt of electricity sizzling through her system and down to her core, making her mewl and bite back a whimper.

"God, I love you," Michael spoke huskily against Nikita's lips as his mouth ravaged hers in a primal, carnal, unbounded kiss.

"I know," she whimpered in return. "Now shut up...and make love to me."

Michael only stared at Nikita as she spoke, his eyes boring into hers. It wasn't because such forward words had just escaped her debonair lips. No, it was because the authoritative manner in which she had spoken them along with the sexy implication boldly manifested within her breathless voice had served to make him harder than iron. She was killing him softly. He was going to explode and they hadn't even really started yet. God...what did this woman do to him?

"No," Michael spoke seriously with a devilish grin etched onto his face; bracing his weight on his forearms as he hovered over her.

"What do you mean 'no'?" Nikita inquired suspiciously with a hint of anger and premature pain subtly laced within her tone.

"What I mean is," he amended, kissing a slow trail from the tip of her chin to the valley of her breast and onward, "that I'm going to torture you the same way that you've been torturing me all night."

"Your not serious?" she breathed, but the resolve in her voice faded the moment his lips encircled her navel, biting and sucking at it playfully.

"Oh, I'm very serious. Remember, as one of my former students so often reminds me, payback is a bitch," he replied, parting Nikita's thighs and bending her legs at the knees as he propped them over his broad shoulders. Michael's piercing eyes never left hers as his mouth brushed against the curly locks shielding her womanhood, causing her to shudder as his lips closed over the little bundle of sensitive nerves that drove any woman mad with need.

"Oh! Oh!" Nikita moaned as Michael's skillful tongue began to probe her slick folds. "Stop," her lips whimpered breathlessly, though her body spoke otherwise as she thread her fingers though his chocolate brown hair, gluing his face to the apex of her thighs.

"Do you really want me to stop...right now?" he inquired mischeviously, lifting his eyes to meet hers as his fingers rubbed sensually at the pleasure center of her honeyed sheathe.

"Yes," she replied in a dry voice, her breathing hard.

"Then ask me nice," Michael commanded in a tone that was all at once soft and hard at the same time.



"Never," the proud vixen declared, trying to move away from the bastard. But Michael would have none of that. His rough hands clamped down on her prominent hip bones and squeezed hard in order to keep her in place as he moved to finish that which he had started.

"Then I won't stop," he returned before he let his tongue delve into the moist depths of her womanhood all the while working his hands over her now engorged sensitive nub.

"You play dirty, Michael," Nikita managed to say through her labored breaths. "Who knew." Her lover only chuckled, confident that he had her just where he wanted her for once. "But," he heard her say, "I can play dirty, too." And with that, Michael felt her small yet powerful fingers pry his face away from her thighs as she leaned over to deliver a wet, wild kiss before getting the best of him and turning them over so that he was on his back and she was on top.

"My turn," she crooned seductively, splaying a hand against his chest when he tried to get up. "Relax," she whispered against his ear before nipping at it. Michael found himself lost within the depths of her eyes which shone like melting dark chocolate as he felt her tongue dart out against his stubbled chin. She continued her southbound journey, her tongue just barely making contact with his bare, heated skin, leaving a line of thin moisture and, truth be told, it felt amazing as the cold night air would heighten the coolness of the damp flesh, making every part of his body tingle where her mouth had been.

He thought that she would stop once she swiveled her pointed tongue against the soft, sensitive flesh of his navel, but she didn't.

"Nikita," Michael warned; but, like always, his half-command/half-plea fell on deaf ears. Her butterfly fingers lightly traced the contours of his solid chest and the rock-hard planes of his abdomen as she eyed him boldly, challenging him to act in protest as her chin brushed against that very male thatch of dark hair and her tongue moved along the taut skin of his elongated shaft.

"What are you-" Michael began desperately, but the words caught in his throat as the dark haired vixen ran her tongue over the exposed head of his manhood before taking the length of him in her mouth...slowly...inch by excruciating inch until she reached the hilt.

Michael grunted in desire, his eyes rolling back as his fingers snaked there way to grasp the locks of his hair maddeningly tight. "FUCK!" he shouted as Nikita worked her way up and down at her leisure, and he could feel her vicious, victorious smile against him. Gradually, she fastened her pace, Michael's hand clutching her tresses as her head bobbed up and down with the tempo. She took her time, torturing him as she sucked and pulled and swiveled her skilled tongue around him like she was lapping at an ice pop on a sweltering August afternoon in the dead of summer.

"Nikita," he breathed, the veins of his neck straining against his skin in agony.

"Want me to stop?" she asked innocently.

Damn. He should have seen this coming. "Fuck!" he half-screamed as she sucked him...hard.

"Do. You. Want. Me. To. Stop?"

"Yes," Michael rasped lowly.

"I'm sorry; I didn't hear you," Nikita smiled wickedly.

"You know what I said," he countered seriously.

"Well, then...ask me nicely. BEG."

Michael chuckled softly as his hand slowly guided her towards him, towards his lips. "Only in your dreams, Nikita."

He barely grazed the skin on her lips, his hand on the back of her slender neck, before flipping her onto the mattress. "Michael!" she exclaimed; her voice tinged with indignation and excitement. "What the f-"

"I want you. NOW," was all Michael was capable of saying. His eyes captured her as Nikita felt his strong hands part her thighs. He looked at her long and hard and filled with desire before making another move; his eyes searching for the answer he desperately wanted to hear from her, and she complied readily, inclining her chin slightly in her consent to his unspoken request, a small smile gracing her features.

At this, Nikita felt Michael rub himself tauntingly at the folds of her honeyed sheathe before entering cautiously, gently. He gained his composure once more, however, and shot a look at her before he would allow himself to be lost within the overwhelming tides of ectasy and passion.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes..." Nikita chanted before Michael could even ask, hoping to clear the doubts in his mind once and for all. Her voice was shallow, breathy, and extremely...sexy.

It didn't take half a second for the words to sink in before Michael thrust the full length of himself inside of her, eliciting a small scream of surprise from Nikita.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Michael asked quickly, bracing himself on his forearms as he took in her pained countenance.

"No; I'm fine. It's just been a while," she responded lightly before placing a kiss on his lips.


"I said I'm fine," she reassured him before gently lifting her hips to meet him in encouragement. Michael smiled deviously and trailed kisses from her earlobe to the line of her jaw as he thrust once more. Her small mewls and moans only fueled the fire within him and he buried himself into the crook of her neck, her fingers clutching at his shoulder blades as he withdrew and speared himself within her deeper and harder...over...and over...and over.

"Aah! Oh! Ahw! Oooooh! OH! Yes!" the femme fatal moaned loudly as Michael fastened his pace, grabbing her thighs roughly as he slung them higher over his waist. This new angle allowed him to drive himself deeper within her and Nikita could feel the white-hot ball of fire begin to grow low in her belly, threatening to explode at any given minute.

"Michael...Michael...oh...Michael..." Nikita almost screamed. Michael grunted his approval, withdrawing completely before driving himself into her...hard...in satisfaction. He felt her hands travel down the contours of his shoulders through the sink in the mid of his back and over the soft plains of his lower back before grabbing his buttocks. She wanted more. She needed more.

Michael's endurance astounded her as he worked faster and harder, picking up a lightning quick speed that Nikita did not think was humanly possible.

"Nikita..." Michael rasped against her neck as he bit her; his tongue darting out to soothe the broken flesh before blowing a combination of cool and hot air on it.

Nikita could feel the flaming arms of the white-hot inferno begin to reach its peak and she knew that she'd climax within seconds, but before the thought even fully developed, Michael turned them over. This disoriented her for a minute and she lunged forward as Michael's back hit the mattress; her hands pushing against the pecs of his chest lightly as she tried to regain her balance.

Nikita was surprised. Michael usually wasn't like this. He was cool and mysterious and, above all else, reserved. This was a new side of him that she was seeing and she admitted that, well, it...it turned her on.

"Such a tease, Michael," she breathed in that husky voice of hers as she moved up and down his shaft slowly.

"Look...look whose...talking," Michael managed to say in between pants as she rode him excruciatingly slow. She literally took his breath away. His hand clamped onto her hip as he guided her. The nectar of her womanhood trickled onto him, lubricating his swollen shaft to create the crazed, erotic sound of slick flesh slapping against flesh.

"Jesus!" he groaned as she rode him faster and faster and (believe it or not) faster at a very flexible angle, rocking her hips in a circular motion as she did so. Michael couldn't take it anymore. She was slamming herself down onto him roughly, somehow making him harder than ever. At the rate she was going, she was going to make him come in a matter of milli-seconds. That he wouldn't have...at least not yet.

Michael wasn't a selfish man (or at least, he didn't think so of himself). He had to know that he had brought Nikita to the pinnacle of Paradise and back before he allowed himself to bask in his own release. He wanted to watch her beautiful face as she climaxed. He needed to.

As she came down on him midway, Michael seized the opportunity and once again flipped them over, driving himself into her to finish her thrust as her back came into contact with the pillows.

"OH! AAAAAH! Michael!" Nikita cried as Michael continued to pound her mercilessly, delivering an ear-shattering scream.

"I love you...I love you...I love you..." he crooned, holding back his own release in order to pleasure her.

Nikita moaned as she felt the man she loved deep within her, penetrating the depths of her body, heart, and soul.

"God, I love YOU," Michael rasped gruffly, his eyes capturing hers as he spoke.

"I...Oh...Oooooh...I..l-love y-AH..AW...AH-Oooh...you too!"

"Come for me," Michael groaned desperately against her lips, removing a damp, brunette lock plastered to the mocha skin of her forehead and cheek gently with his forefinger and thumb. Nikita gasped against the sudden, swift though welcome assault on her mouth as Michael worked his fingers over the nub of her womanhood, continuing to thrust all the while.

"Oh! JESUS CHRIST!" Nikita shouted swiftly as her eyes fluttered, rolling back as she orgasmed. "Michael...Michael...Michael!...MICHAEL!"

The invading rays of crystal light penetrated through the blinds and heavy curtains of the intimate inn room as the fast approaching dawn finally broke, filling the bedchamber with a golden aura as the last of the cackling firewood gradually burned out, emanating a definite sizzling which electrified the air.

The sunlight leant a warm, heavenly glow upon Nikita's skin as she reached the peak of ectasy, letting Michael truly see her in all her unabashed glory. She looked so beautiful: her damp, deep chocolate, ruffled tresses strewn wildly about her; her full, swollen, pouting lips slightly open in pleasure; her long, dark lashes casting slight shadows against her fair cheeks as she closed her eyes against the never-ending waves of white-hot energy pulsing through her being; the small blue veins and cords of her neck straining in desperation as she threw her head back, clutching to his back with her hands and to his hips with her legs for dear life. She was truly a sight to behold.

As the walls of her throbbing womanhood clenched around him in a vice-like grip, Michael knew that he couldn't hold back any longer. With a few deep, powerful thrusts that practically drove his lover into the headboard, he, too, found release.

"Niki-Nikita...I love you...NIKITA!" Michael growled, jerking spasmically as he climaxed. His entire body was taut with overwhelming sensation, bracing his weight on his forearms as he rode out the bolts of charged pleasure coursing through him. Several seconds later, as he came down from his drug-like high, he collapsed near his love. Her fingers found his and he entwined them, holding her hand silently as they both lay on their sides drinking in each other's features with a look of pure contentment evidenced in their glowing smiles.

"That was..." Nikita began, not quite sure what to say. There were no words to describe what had just happened or how she felt about it.

"Yeah," Michael agreed.

"How do you feel," he asked after a while, brushing the back of his hand lazily against her side.

"I feel..." she trailed, searching for the right word. "...Well, I guess I feel happy," Nikita responded with a growing smile that Michael couldn't get enough of. "What about you?" she asked softly.

"I'm in heaven," he simply said honestly and sincerely.

4 Hours Later...

Michael gasped as Nikita fell onto the bed beside him, throwing an arm lazily over his sweaty chest before pulling up the snow-white sheets to cover their sleek, naked bodies.

"You know..." Michael panted as he attempted to catch his breathed, "You think you'd be tired after the floor, the bed, the table, the wall, the floor, and then the bed again."

Nikita giggled. "Well, you know what they say; I'm full of surprises."

"But still..." Michael laughed, enveloping her in his arms.

"So..." Nikita began, lifting her brows suggestively, "you up for round seven?"

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious!" Nikita spoke seductively, her fingers tracing the planes of his stomach. "Besides, is it wrong for me to want this to last?"

Michael said nothing because he knew that she was right. He only gazed at her with a small half-smile on his face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she spoke.

"If I had a choice, I'd stay in this bed all day with you..." Michael breathed before touching his lips to hers.

"I know," she responded, and Michael could hear the sadness laced deep within her voice. "But 'nothing gold can stay' right?"

She sat upright then, beginning to turn away from him to get out of the bed before Michael stopped her. She felt his hand grab her forearm lightly and, rather than start an argument, she reluctantly turned her attentions toward him.

"Look at me," he commanded, rising to sit with her. He took her by the shoulders and turned her towards him, tipping her chin so that he could see her doe-brown eyes. "What happened last night...I don't regret a single moment of it, and if I had the chance to do it all again, Nikita...I would, without a doubt."

Before Michael could exhale his next breath, Nikita's lips her upon his, pulling him in for a small encore of what had happened the previous night. It made him want to take her right then and there. "I love you," Nikita whispered as she withdrew, resting her head against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him.

2 Hours Later...

It was almost eleven o'clock in the morning and Nikita leaned casually against the left outer-post of the canopied bed as she watched Michael dress himself. She eyed him up and down slow and longingly as she took in the three-piece black Armani suit he chose to don. He was looking as handsome and dapper as ever. God, he was sexy.

"You know," he spoke in that rough, husky voice of his, "if you keep looking at me like that, I might just decide never to leave this room again...granted that you're here with me."

"Well," Nikita replied playfully, approaching him; circling him like a predator about to strike, "if you keep talking to me like that and looking at me like the way you are now, I might not let you leave."

"What would you do with me, then?" Michael countered, curious as to what she might say.

"I'd keep you as my slave," Nikita smiled.

"What would you do to me?" Michael challenged slyly, erotically.

"Why don't you stay and find out?" Nikita laughed; her sexy, heavy-lidded eyes trapping his.

"As tempting as that sounds," he spoke, pulling her towards him, "you know that I can't; I have to go." His hands found the sides of her face as he gently rested his forehead against hers; her arms wrapped around his waist.

"To Division," Nikita sighed in defeat, more of statement than a question.

"Of course," Michael smiled much to Nikita's dismay; the devil etched into his features. "You're going to need someone else on the inside other than Alex. Besides, I'll be of more help to you and her there than I would be here."

"You mean-"

"Yes," Michael answered, cutting her off, kissing her. It made his heart beat just a little faster at seeing the rare, genuine smile spread across her face paired with her tear-brightened eyes.

"And the USB?"

"Keep it," he answered softly.

"Won't Percy-"

"Don't worry about Percy; I'll take care of him."


"Birkoff will believe anything that I tell him," he reassured her.

"I...I just don't want to see you get hurt, Michael."

"You think this is easy for me?"

Nikita smiled. If boggled her mind at how he was able to remain so suave and sophisticated, cool and collected when their whole world could come crashing down.

"I know that it's not, Michael. It's just that I love you and too many people in my life have gotten hurt. I don't want that to happen to you."

"You need to take your own advice and stop worrying. You have no idea how much I love you. That's why I'm doing this: for you."

He gave her one last long, steamy open-mouthed kiss before opening the door, giving the narrow passage a once-over for any lurking eyes before stepping foot into the hall. Nikita watched Michael's retreating figure fade into the distance before she closed the door, thinking about all that had passed during the morning and the night before.

A few moments later, there was a knock on the door and a small slip of parchment slid through the space above the jamb and onto the hardwood flooring of her room. As Nikita broke the seal of the envelope and removed the paper within, she noticed Michael's distinct handwriting.

"Hmmm..." she mused. "Maybe it's a plan...Or maybe it's a love note," she spoke softly to herself.

Her eyes lightly glazed over the connotative script of the brief note which read: 'I hear Venice has wonderful weather this time of the year. You should...check it out.'

"That I will," Nikita whispered to herself thoughtfully as she leaned against the door behind her. "Guess, I'll see you in Venice, Michael," she smiled.

This was going to be the start of a very complicated relationship.