A/N: My updates are swift at the moment because I already have a lot of this story written, but in another week or two, my updates will begin to slow down as I catch up with myself and actually need to physically write a chapter before posting it. At the moment I'm just lightly tweaking chapters and posting them. Enjoy!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: INFERIOR

Amy

Wednesday

I woke up that morning to feel the sun bright and warm on my face, but also to an arm wrapped around my middle tightly. I hadn't slept like this (apart from the first night I spent here) in a while now and it felt so much better than it had before. Just knowing that he was behind me made me grin and I moved backwards, snuggling into him. And I knew right them that he'd either been awake all along or I'd woke him up as his arms tightened around me even further. Then he began kissing my back and my shoulder again.

His lips against me felt like pure silk and I couldn't help but moan as tingles shot around my body. Last night had been even better than the times before which we'd slept together. It seemed to go so much slower but the passion was absolutely mind blowing, and it was also the first time I'd accomplished an orgasm during actual sex. There was no way I wanted any of this to end.

"You sure you still want to come out tonight?" Warren asked me, his voice so quiet and almost gentle against my neck. "We can always do something else."

I turned over and looked at him. "But you brought me the shoes and dress now." Even though I loved him, I hadn't been exactly thrilled about the idea of this party since he first asked me.

With a boyish smile he placed a gentle kiss to my lips and then spoke. "Well, we can always do something else which will put them to good use."

With a laugh I nudged my nose up to his neck and pressed my face against him. "If we carry on from last night, they'll be winding up on the floor anyway."

xxx

For the rest of the day we remained at Warren's place and just lounged around. Warren had finally decided against the party tonight and just wanted to take me out instead. I can honestly say I was a lot happier about this prospect. At least it wouldn't be wasting the money he'd spent on me for the dress and shoes. He also made a couple of secret phone calls and then sat down with me in the living room where we snuggled together, flicking through the day time channels.

In the meantime I'd called Debbie and told her she wouldn't need to do my makeup and hair tonight and I explained that I and Warren were going out ourselves instead. I felt really terrible having basically upped and left Debbie for Warren. I'd originally come over here to spend time with Debbie, not him, but I never knew I was going to meet him.

By the time it hit six 'o' clock we both separated; I'd been given the bathroom first while Warren prepared his clothes in his bedroom. I'd brought my dress along with me after I'd been asked if I wanted to spend the rest of the week with Warren and the gorgeous piece of clothing was now hanging up on the back of the bathroom door. On the sideboard next to the sink was my toiletry bag.

Firstly I slipped out of my jeans and T-shirt and changed into my strapless bra. Even though the dress had small pockets at the front for my boobs to go in, I still wore my bra underneath to make sure I was well supported.

The dress felt so amazing against my skin; I truly adored the feeling of it. I brushed my hands down it and felt myself go weak at the knees as I began imagining Warren removing it. I was sincerely hoping that tonight would take that turn. Next I clipped up my hair and let two pieces fall down either side of my face, and then I slid my feet into the new shoes. They were extremely comfortable to say they were new, although they were flat. I'd never been able to wear high heels; most of the time I walked around in trainers, pumps and boots. But tonight was different, and I had reason to be dressed like this.

Deep down I liked being dressed like this. It made me feel sexy, although the more rational side of me didn't like it. It was so unlike me. But as I stepped out of the bathroom and into Warren's bedroom, his reaction made me love the attire all the more.

He turned around and slowly a smile lit up his face. "God, Aim, you look so beautiful," he said quietly.

I could feel myself blushing as he stepped up to me. For a second he just looked at me as if he didn't quite know what to do with the situation and himself. "You should go and get dressed," I said and then moved away, winking. I liked being like this, and I kind of liked teasing him too. It was as if I wanted to tease him and build him up so we could have fun again tonight.

While Warren was in the bathroom I remained in the bedroom and sat on the bed, looking up at the ceiling and wondered why my life had taken such a drastic turn this last two weeks. Was there something which had brought us both together like this? Two people from different sides of society and the ocean and we'd randomly met up and fell for each other. It was like something out of a bad romance film and I couldn't quite fathom it.

When Warren finally came out of the bathroom, he was wearing a full black suit with an open neck white shirt. "At least I don't have to wear a tux," he said, chuckling and fiddling with his cuff links. He then looked up at the clock. "We should be heading downstairs." I frowned.

"Have you got everything timed exactly or something?" I asked him.

"Maybe, but there's a reason for it."

The evening began with Warren guiding me outside where a black, sleek limo was waiting. A black man greeted Warren; I merely said hello politely and got in the back quickly. I was self conscious enough as it was wearing this dress. Nervously I sat down and waited for Warren to get in too. The sweat felt as if it were literally dripping from my hands, and every other part of my body.

I had no idea where to look. I'd never been in a limo before. Soon I could feel that we were moving and shortly after that, Warren scooted over towards me. "You alright?" he asked, and then he wound his arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah," I replied feebly, feeling so utterly stupid in this situation. None of it whatsoever made an iota of sense. My eyes began darting around the vehicle, studying the row of drinks bottles which were lined up on either side. It really was a comfortable vehicle – obviously made purely for luxury and to show off power.

I needed to concentrate on the real reason I was here and it was Warren. I wasn't here for the luxury or ride in a limo. No, I was here to spend time with the man I loved. At least we weren't heading to that dreaded party his dad was hosting. I'd escaped the persecution of billionaire big wigs. Something told me though that this wasn't really, deep down, the life that Warren wanted to live either. He'd been more than happy cancelling plans to go to the do which his dad had arranged. But then again, he'd rather spend it with me? I found that a little unbelievable - a man who had everything, the typical silver spoon in his mouth, and he preferred spending time with me? When you look at life though, no matter what background everyone is from, we all need the same things. There's only so long you can go without human contact, without sharing emotions with other people. Emotions are our weakness as human beings, and despite some people having money and power, they can still never be void of that. We still have that vulnerability inside us and that need for love. In fact it's usually richer people that find it hard to cope emotionally with life; they wind up having so many people after them just for their money and power, and rarely actually find anyone with true, decent intentions.

"Do you ever worry that I'm only with you for your money?" I asked Warren suddenly on spur of the moment. My thoughts of being wealthy, yet lacking emotional stability, made me ponder this.

Warren seemed to back up a little and when I looked into his eyes, he was frowning. "Why would you think I'd think that?" he asked, seeming to be taken completely off guard by my stupid question.

"I don't know," I replied, a little embarrassed that I'd asked him that. "I suppose it's because you hear of so many gold diggers marrying rich men."

"There seems to be something here which you haven't quite grasped, Aim," he began and then moved closer toward me. "I do actually trust you." With that he just smiled at me, making light of it. When you look at our situations, he had more reason to distrust me; I could easily be one of those gold diggers I mentioned to him. It's a sad thing to think that a lot of richer people don't find true love, but merely a love of their bank balance. Seriously I didn't care about Warren's upbringing and bank balance; it didn't sway me in any way, apart from me feeling inferior. It didn't somehow make me want him all the more. What I felt for him, was for him alone.

I was finally beginning to feel that love and appreciation I'd been without for the last couple of years. The way Warren held me was unlike any of the times that Alex did. With Warren it was as though he didn't want me to go and he was protecting me, keeping me locked close to his heart. It was all or nothing with him – if he couldn't kiss me then he wouldn't even try. Warren seemed to pour his heart and soul into every little thing he did.

The ride was actually quite short. We were only in the back for about ten minutes and then more light flooded into the limo as the driver opened the door. He gave me a big smile, his white teeth shining through from his extremely dark skin.

I let myself out of the limo, rather than letting the driver help me out like I was some helpless, defenceless and typical woman. But as soon as I'd stepped up onto the pavement, Warren was there to take my hand and guide me inside. If there was one thing I loved about being in a relationship with Warren, it was holding his hand. For some reason I'd always loved holding someone's hand, as if it signified we were together and tightened our grip on one another.

We walked up a small set of steps and finally arrived inside a huge, regal looking restaurant. It was quite similar to the one he'd taken me to on our first date, but this one seemed even more elegant. A huge chandelier was hanging from the white ceiling and waiters and ushers dashed about from one side to the other. I could see through into the main eating area and there were literally about a hundred small tables, although the room didn't seem to be half full. Even though it wasn't brimming to its full capacity, employees were still racing about...probably making sure everything was perfect.

Suddenly my mind slipped back to how the dress made me feel and I felt a sly smile erupt on my face. The silk was like heaven against my skin and gradually I began having daydreams of Warren's hand slipping up my thigh and brushing the fabric away. "You coming?" he asked, his voice ripping through my incredibly pleasurable day dream.

"Sorry," I said softly. The man at the podium, where Warren had been standing the last two minutes, gave us both a smile. Then he took my hand again.

I studied all the tables as we walked past and it was mostly cosy couples who had come here. All of them were wearing extremely expensive looking clothing; the women were all beautiful and made up with glittering diamonds around their necks and wrists, and then dangling from their ears. I knew I looked so drab and simple in comparison. The only jewellery I happened to be sporting was two simple studs in each ear and one at the top of my right ear. And then my necklace Warren had brought me which didn't look anywhere near as detailed, expensive and regal looking as all the other women in this place.

Finally we came to a table which was in the very corner of the place at the back. We sat down and for a few seconds Warren remained silent and just watched me across the table.

"Don't do that," I said, laughing. "It makes me nervous."

"Why?" he asked simply.

"I've never been very good with men watching me. It makes me get all embarrassed and jittery."

"It's only me, Aim."

The way he said "It's only me" seemed to imply he was someone who I saw every day and had known my entire life, like a next door neighbour for example who borrows your gardening tools and comes around for tea or coffee, or maybe an uncle. But he was entirely different - this was the man I was in love with and who I wanted to find me attractive. Something inside me told me that I didn't have to try with him and he accepted me completely how I was, but I couldn't help feel as though I still had to impress him.

"You seem really awkward," he said softly, lowering his head.

"I'm sorry," I whispered softly.

"Come on," he told me, getting up and holding out his hand. "We don't have to stay in here if you don't want to."

I felt so guilty pulling him out of the restaurant that night. Maybe he wanted to impress me and show me the kind of things in his life that he could give to me.

When we got back to the limo, the driver was still there...incredibly, he was still there. Warren whispered something to him which immediately got me suspicious. But I went along with it all and got back in, sliding across the leather seat. Why did everything feel so good against my skin? Firstly it was my dress and now it was the feel of the leather seat on the backs of my thighs. There was only one other thing which was better than the leather and dress against my skin, and I sincerely hoped I'd get to feel it again tonight.

When the limo had finally stopped again, the driver got out and I distinctly heard him walk away. "Where's he going?" I asked Warren. He just grinned at me.

"Don't worry about him. He's just giving us some time to ourselves." Then I felt a kiss against my lips again and it gradually got hotter and wilder. I couldn't hold back anymore. And within a minute or so my instinct had risen so high that I unconsciously began pulling his jacket off which he tossed into the corner.

And then he did what I'd been fantasising about him doing – he ran his hand up my thigh and brushed the dress away and in that moment electricity surged through me so damn quickly that I couldn't help but moan loudly.

I pulled Warren down hard against me and we kissed. It seemed as if we were fighting; maybe fighting our passions. I'd never felt this way about anyone before, not even my ex boyfriend. He hadn't brought this passion surge out in me.

Quickly I began unbuttoning Warren's shirt, feeling so impatient as the feelings continued to consume me. By now I was lying down flat on the back seat and Warren was above me, smiling that boyish smile as my hands trailed further down his opening shirt. Once the damn shirt was off, I tackled his straps, dragging them off angrily. Then I let my hands slip down his shoulders and into that softness. He groaned and then a shiver from him pulsed through my hands. "You're perfect like this, the way you are," I told him, pressing my forehead to his. I never wanted him to change for anything and wanted him to keep his wings; they were a part of him and nothing about him needed to be changed. "I should call you Angel," I told him, referring to his angelic image.

"I kinda like that," he replied with a smirk. "But it means I'm named after the guy in Buffy."

I couldn't help but scoff loudly. "He wishes he was half as handsome as you," I told him honestly, and then kissed him again, while I let my hands caress his bare chest. His skin was soft, yet I could feel the hard muscles beneath the skin rippling as I touched him.

I unzipped Warren's trousers and as I did, I tenderly cupped his manhood and let my fingers gently slide down its length, caressing and teasing it slowly. Warren bucked almost violently as I did so and moaned breathlessly. I loved to hear him let out cries of pleasure, as it let me know that he desired me.

We kissed yet again and as we did, Warren began to remove his trousers and slid his underwear down with them. Once he was out of the offending clothing, he brushed his hand down my shoulder, and I couldn't help but shiver uncontrollably. I knew what was coming, and I wanted it now. Warren began removing the straps of my dress, pushing them further down my arms. My self control seemed to jolt out of me once again and I kissed Warren furiously while pulling myself angrily out of my dress. I wanted and needed him, and when he was inside me it was like complete and utter bliss.

I clutched hold of his shoulders and he entered me – we became one; two imperfect parts of a perfect whole.

We moved back and forth, and pulsed in and out of each other. And as we gathered a quicker rhythm, I locked my legs shut around Warren's waist, pulling him fully inside me. We groaned, sweat, shook and became liberated in one another's arms.

As Warren got faster, building his confidence, I dug my hands hard into his wings, revelling in that softness which I associated with the red hot pleasure he gave me. Between my legs I could feel a fire burning and with Warren pulsing in and out, I could feel waves washing over me. Our kisses stifled the groans which we let out, and our hands travelled over one another, inspecting one another almost studiously.

And then Warren let out one final and guttural moan, letting me know his release had come. He smiled between his elevated breaths and cupped my cheek with his hand, telling me he loved me.