Author's Note below.

Chapter 14

Desire

Our lips move together in synchrony and each second is getting more intense. Our lips attack each other so fiercely that my body's feeling the heat. The song fades in the background and only the sounds of our kisses are heard. "Hmmm . . ." I express from time to time. He's such a great kisser and I can't even describe how great it is.

Then, my heartbeat gradually increases in speed when Christian's tongue begged for entrance. I don't know what I'm doing but I let him in. The taste of him is like coffee during rainy mornings. It's the kind of perfect that you don't get every day. I know that he could tell that I am not experienced with this but he doesn't even pull away.

His tongue roams around inside my mouth, tasting every inch and it seems so natural when mine does the same too. I don't know where it's coming from but I just know how to. I wrap my arms around his neck feeling the moment.

For the first time, I let myself loose. I am already twenty-four and Christian's worth my kisses, right? He's not my first kiss but he's my first deep kiss.

His hands add pleasure as they trace my sides so tenderly, up and down again and again until I moan tenderly. Like his, my hands move in its own accord. They reach up to the top of his head, raking through the wildness of his copper hair.

He pulls away only to trail kisses down my neck and making me produce those sounds of pleasure again and again. He finds a spot on the right side of my neck and lingers there longer, sucking until I know that he has made his mark.

"Christian," I gasp and that makes him growl.

This time he stops what he's doing as he straightens his back and his gaze falls upon me in the most intense manner. The ferocity in his grey eyes feels like a typhoon in a summer day and . . . I am just lost. His face is so beautiful that my finger traces the outline of his shape.

I feel so much for him. There's no denying that I am falling in love. I cannot deny that at all.

Then, he makes it impossible for me to deny my feelings when he presses his forehead against mine, his breath brushing across my face when he says, "Let me make you feel good, Ana. Let me."

All I can do is nod.

His lips are back to mine again only this time it's stronger than ever. His grip in my arms have tightened, not in a possessive manner that it hurt but it's as if he's claiming me as his own. He's pushing me forward and forward until my back is pressed against the wall.

He pulls back only to gaze at me with lustful eyes while his fingers unbutton the expensive blouse I just bought. No one has ever seen me this way and it makes me nervous. As all the buttons are undone, he slides the sleeves down from my shoulders letting the shirt fall to the floor. There I stand in just my bra and Christian? He's more than on fire.

His hand reaches out only for his fingers to trace from the valley between my breast and all the way down my stomach. I decide to stop restraining myself. I do the same with his as well. My fingers are shaking when I do so but I don't stop.

I lick my bottom lip as I finally see him topless. He has six-pack abs and his muscles are toned, shoulders so broad. He kneels down only to kiss the bare skin of my upper body.

Then, he reaches out from behind to unclasp my bra and I almost want to run. It's not that no one has ever seen me this way. Well, I am not like the typical girl every guys wants after. I am so plain and my breasts are too small for my liking. Both of my hands cover up my breasts as soon as the shirt falls down the floor.

He scowls, completely disapproving.

"Why are you covering yourself?" He sounds completely different.

"They're not big enough," I mumble like a child.

That makes him smile, like really smile. I get so distracted with the way his lips move upward that I don't even notice that he just help me uncover myself. My breasts are now exposed to him and I expect the look of disappointment but he sure as hell feels the exact opposite.

His hands touch them tenderly and lovingly until they just grab them and squeeze them tightly. I moan in the mix of pleasure and slight plain. He doesn't stop though. His lips kiss them in every space and I moan out loud when he begins sucking my nipple. He starts with the right nipple, sucking so intensely and I moan.

I moan even louder when his thumb rolls my left nipple. I just can't handle this anymore. Yes, I have experienced being wet before but this is so different. I am coming undone before him. Just when I think that I might come, he stops what he's doing and I am left with so much frustration.

He smirks though, "You want more?"

I feel too shy to speak but to desperate to be silent.

"Come on, Ana, tell me. Do you want more?"

He is very different now. He's far from the stoic Christian I know. He's lustful and there's a part of him that just unleashed. It's like this part of him has been supressed for too long that he cannot handle it now.

"Yes, I want more," I barely whisper.

"Your wish, my command," he uncharacteristically says before reaching up to kiss my lips passionately then kneeling back down as he unhooks my pants. He pulls it down my legs alongside my panties. They're all lying on the ground with my other clothes and I'm left with nothing.

Then, all those things most of my female friends have talked about, I am finally going to experience. He touches it, my most private area and there's satisfaction in his face when he says, "Wet already? You are so wet, Anastasia. You are very wet."

"Only for you," I don't know why I said that but it made me powerful.

For some reason, that intensifies the lust he's feeling. Two fingers are grazing my clit and my legs are quivering because of the intense pleasure. The spot is so sensitive and his fingers just make it impossible for me to stay silent. How long can I keep this up?

"Don't come, Anastasia," he warns with voice so forceful.

I try my best to obey.

Then, I release a full audible gasp when one finger inserts all the way in.

"Are you okay?" he asks full of concern.

"I am," I tell him.

It's just his finger and it's already giving me discomfort. What happens during the wedding night? His index finger slides in and out in a very slow pace and as the minutes pass I'm beginning to seriously want things to speed up.

"Faster, Christian."

"Are you sure?"

"Please faster," I tell him and he does so and his finger plunges and in and out of me so fast that my body shakes to the fast tempo he's creating. The pleasure goes high and high and high and higher until it has reached its highest.

I came and to my shock, his mouth replaces his fingers.

Still not recovered, he doesn't seem to consider. His tongue mercilessly explores my walls and it's becoming too much for me to handle. My hand both hold on to his shoulders as he continues kissing me down there in an animalistic way.

It gets more intense when he spreads my legs wider and leaves one hanging on his shoulder. I close my eyes as I moan his name over and over again. My face raises to the direction of the ceiling and my mouth opens because of too much pleasure.

I am reaching my high.

His tongue licks and licks while my hands are on his hair now, tugging to the point that even I feel his pain.

Then, I finally come.

I slide down the floor next to a shirtless Christian who is breathing in the same pace as I am.

At the back of my mind, I call myself names like whore, prostitute, or hooker but when I take a look at Christian, he doesn't make me feel that way.

I don't want to let myself expect but when he looks at me this way, it's hard not to fall for him. He closes the space between us and rests his forehead against my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he breathes.

"I am okay."

"Did I make you feel good?" There's no hint of arrogance or cockiness or even sensuality in the way he asks it. It's like he's asking me because he wants it to be memorable for my first time.

"No, you didn't. You made me feel . . . desired," I tell him truthfully. Then, I expect him to return to his stoic persona. He always seems to be the kind of person who would run away from affection.

To prove me wrong he unrests his forehead from my shoulder only to replace it with his lips. Such tender touch makes me feel lightning inside.

There are no movies. There are no wild imaginations. There are no overboard dramatic sequences in thought. It's just me and him. That's way more than intimate.

"Let's go to bed?"

To add much hope to my already swelling heart he carries me all the way to his bedroom.

"You really had no one kiss you down there?" I enjoy this carefree him. The two of us are lying on our sides, facing each other. What's amazing is that this is a king sized bed but there's no space between us. For me, that already means so much.

"No one ever gave me an Australian kiss."

He raises his brow, "What?"

"It's like French kiss but in the land down under. You haven't heard of that?"

Then, he starts laughing as if there is no tomorrow. I smile at that sight. He should always be like this. Smiles suit him even better. He is amazing in every single thing he does. But this one? It's just the best.

"You know what, Ana? You make me laugh."

"That's an honor," I say truthfully.

His laughter fades then my heart flutters once more when he's mindlessly tracing my arm with his right thumb.

"Ana?"

"Hmmm?"

"Nothing," he answers. I know there has to be something but I don't want to push him. I don't want him to go back to his robotic state.

I change the topic, "Who's your first kiss?"

I want to slap myself. I keep dodging the fact that he could go back to being the robot him in a matter of seconds but look at what I've done. With that one mindless question, he's back to his cold aura and I feel his touch pull away. I already miss it.

"Christian, what's wrong?"

He looks down now.

"Christian, you can always tell me."

He doesn't listen.

"I will be your wife. I will be your friend. You have to trust me."

Then, that's the moment he looks up to me with vulnerability.

"What happened?" I pressed dying to know of his past.

"My first love was a girl named Andrea," there is a mysterious glow in the way he says her name. I don't feel a hinge of jealousy. It's not like he's speaking of love. It's like he has this regret.

He continues:

"You know, I wasn't always the nice kid. I always picked on my classmates. You could say that I'm a bully. I enjoy putting some kids in misery especially the geeks. Well, that all changed when I met her. She's this transferee with long legs and I just fell in love. I changed my ways. I became the person she wanted me to be.

It was going as smoothly as I expected it to be. It was like I am going to be with her and nothing can stop that. That day I was supposed to meet with my best friend since we were both invited to this party but I let him go alone because I want to get Andrea. I want to have her. Then I just saw her wrapped around somebody's arms. She's married to him now and they're very happy."

The way he speaks about it is melancholic but I am not convinced. I know that he's telling me the truth but something's just off.

I ask, "Is she the girl you sketched? The one looking at the airplane?"

"No, she's not."

Then, it has confirmed what I thought. He hasn't told me the complete story. There are still things that he's hiding but this? It's already something big. I already know a small piece of his past and it's enough for now. I could sense the pain when he recalls what have happened before.

"Thank you for sharing, Christian."

He turns silent then, acting like he's back to that place from years ago.

As the clock ticks, his eyes are finally closed as he falls into a deep slumber. My fingers comb through his hair and that's when I feel so much for him. He's acting cold but he is made out of gold. He's the unlikely hero of a movie—one who doesn't seem good at first but proves everyone wrong in the end.

His heart is gold and though it may have been frozen for so long, it will still go on. Kind of like Jack from Titanic.

I kiss his forehead before sleeping right next to him, arms wrapped around his brittle frame.

The next morning seems like paradise.

There is still soreness in some spots of my body but I try to ignore them. All I can think about now is the beauty of Christian's room. Much like his living room, it's very Instagram-worthy. That makes me take a selfie and post it on Instagram with a hashtag woke up like this. Of course, my face is there but the room is emphasized. It's just like a museum with a bed.

I am skipping like a child all the way down the kitchen but as I see him in his usual businessman mode, all that radiance just melts away.

"Good morning, Anastasia." There he goes again. There are no emotions anymore.

"Good morning, Christian," I whisper.

"Gail already prepared your breakfast. You can choose from the five dishes she prepared for you." There really are five dishes for an early morning meal and it just amazes me. Look at the bacon and the eggs and the hotdogs! The bacon for example are in the shape of a flower while the eggs resemble the sun.

"Gail's talented."

"She's a highly trained cook from France. She quit her job to work as my private chef."

WHAT? I can't help but shake my head. A private chef everyday? WOW! I can definitely live with that.

"What are these?" I ask when I finally notice piles of paper next to the plates.

"Read and sign it. I will be right back." He says stoically before grabbing his phone and dialling a number.

I read and they are prenuptial agreements. My jaw is not dropping because Christian says here that what's mine in his when we're married and that if we get divorced, I get 50% of all things he owns.

What makes me shocked is that he considers that we might get divorced.

We'll only get divorce if somebody falls in love, right?

Well maybe . . . just maybe . . . he's falling for me too.

The wedding's tomorrow and this must be what they call wedding jitters. I don't know why but I am just nervous. When we first agreed with this marriage, I thought that it's all going to be casual and that money will be raining down on me. Although it's still part of my desires, I already know that I have installed this small hope in me.

I hope that someday he'll feel the same.

Yes, this is messed up.

I check the clock and it's already twelve midnight. I pull my hair, figuring out how to sleep for tomorrow.

Just like all the times I'm weary, there's only one person I can run to when I have problems and she's the only person who is never gonna judge me despite of all my wrong-doings. Since this is my last night in this apartment, I do it: I invade my mother and father's room and lay down right next to Mom.

Her scent is the antidote to my insomnia.

She feels me embracing her and I fear that she might push me away.

And after all the things I've said to her and the anger I've stored deep within, she pulls me tighter and lose myself in tears. She kisses my forehead like before—like it's the last time I am her unmarried eldest child. She leans in and whispers, "I love you, Anastasia. I'm gonna miss you here."

I find myself saying, "Me too, Mom. I love you too."

She smiles in content.

I want to tell her that I'm sorry for the words I said but I keep it to myself instead. My pride is too big to be swallowed up.

Author's Note: My sincerest thank you to each and every single one of you!

The Andrea thing is just a piece of his past. There is more to come.

What do you think about this chapter?

Margo.