CHAPTER 29
IN TOO DEEP
After the argument with Kate the instance I got in from the weekend spent at the Heathman with her father, I become like a chicken. I remain hiding away, in my bedroom, curled up on my bed, too apprehensive to even risk the chance to head out of the room to the bathroom or to even make myself a cup of tea no less. I am such a coward. Have I always been such a coward, shying away from any form of confrontation? Probably. This just feels the most easiest option to deal with right now.
Avoidance. Avoidance is so much easier than having to risk her tornado of unpleasant questions.
I just really hadn't wished she'd done this. Why tonight, of all times, the instance I come home? Why did Kate have to think of calling my mother, to ask whether I truly was there with her during the weekend like I'd lied and said I was? Why wouldn't she have just kept out of it and made this all so much easier?
With a heavy heart, I collapse down onto my bed, my mind running frantically. This is probably the hardest situation I have ever been in, in my entire life. I don't know what to do. God, what do I do? What is the right thing to do in this situation?
On one hand, I know the right thing to do, the...honorable thing to do, would be telling my friend the truth. I've been spending the weekends with her father, and I'm in love with him. I want to be with him. Yet... what about her reaction?
What if she flips out, calls out my betrayal? What if she ends our friendship? Hell, what if she disowns her own father and decides she doesn't want to speak to Christian anymore?
All the years we've spent together... all that time. Kate had literally been the first person to befriend me at such a young age. My first best friend, the first person I'd truly felt comfortable with. All those hours of laughter, of gossiping. Watching TV together, movies... Painting our nails. Supporting each other when the other was down.
Kate and I getting our ears pierced together at age thirteen, supporting each other and egging each other on. Kate being the one to explain it to me, rather than my own mother, on the instructions with how to put a pad on when I'd first gotten my period. All these things- all these monumental firsts in my life, and they were shared with Kate at my side. And now I've gone and done this to her?
I sink down onto the top sheet of my bed, rolling onto my stomach, cupping my face in my hands, letting my hair spill out over it as I heave out deeply through my mouth and nose a few times.
I know she would never forgive me if she knew the truth, about where I've truly been on weekends and about how I first lost my virginity to. Who I've been intimate with ever since that first time, kissing... being playful, meeting secretly. Letting him spank me, wash me in the bathtub. Kiss me. Touch me. Fuck me, make love to me.
I love her father, and I know I make him happy. He's told me as much, that he loves me as well. Could she possibly look past all the hurt an d betrayal, if she saw how happy I make her father? Or would Kate still hold it personal, all the resentment and anger at my lies?
Somehow, knowing her through all these years, I think I'd know how she'd react pretty well. And unfortunately it'd be the latter reaction of the two. It wouldn't matter that I seem to make her father happy, and that I'm happy with him in return. That we love each other, that I want to be with him, and that really I can't see myself ever being with anyone else. I'd love to have a long, serious future with him- if he even sees it that way with me himself.
But none of that would matter to Kate at all, because... at the end of the day, I know exactly the type of girl she is; The one who shouts, the one who holds grudges. Our friendship would be done and... potentially, so would her relationship with her dad.
God, why did I let myself get into this impossible situation? Why?
After what feels hours of soul searching, I come up with the one painful but only reasonable thing I can do. It'll hurt, and even the mere thought of it, it makes me want to throw up and cry hysterically, but... it's the only possible thing I can do. The one thing that can ease all the guilt, all the confusion. The one thing to give me a good chance at repairing whatever little trust Kate has left with me right now, all due to my found-out lies and secrecy.
I grab my phone, flicking the screen on. Then I find Christian's number, and write a new text message:
Hi, we urgently need to talk. Can we meet again soon?
- Ana XX
The urge to throw up only serves to grow stronger when he replies around a few minutes later:
Of course, only it can't be until Friday like usual. Meet at the Heathman, 5.30, Friday?
It'll have to do, I suppose. I'll just have to wait a whole week until Friday comes. The thought of saying what I need to hurts even more than I can possibly stand but... it's the only way.
It's the only way, the only solution. Or so I keep repeating to myself.
...
A thousand butterflies are already fluttering erratically inside me that Friday evening, as I manage to escape the apartment and make my way towards our usual meeting place, in the foyer of the Heathman. Kate had been at me again, demanding to know where it was I was really going. All I could do was escape the apartment without answering hastily like a chicken.
But, if anything, it's just solidified my resolve for what I know needs to be done tonight... if I can manage. Or tomorrow. Or probably on a more peaceful, relaxed Sunday after having spent a few evenings together, making up for lost time.
My bag with all my two nights worth of fresh clothes swings around my hip as I walk down the street, those butterflies relentless in my stomach. I know this is going to be painful. Probably the most painful thing on earth even, but... what else can I do when there's simply no other choice but this?
The doorman at the Heathman opens it for me, and the instant I step inside and look around, immediately, I spot him. My heart bursts with a weird combination of relief, tenderness, and heartache as I discover Christian where he usually is, waiting for me, standing near the counter. One hand is shoved deeply into his suit trouser pocket, the other clutching onto his own overnight bag of belongings.
He's wearing one of his white dress shirts and grey suit trousers, his free hand running through his hair anxiously as he waits. I wish he didn't always look so effortlessly good. It makes it all the more harder when knowing what I intend to do. He turns and sees me, gray eyes scanning the crowd eagerly, and then... there. He spots me, and he stares, and it's like just with one look alone at me, and his entire demeanor is changing completely.
He'd looked slightly anxious before. Even perhaps a little worried I might have blown him off meeting him. Yet now, having spotted me, I see that tension there fade slightly as a slow smile comes across his face. He brings his hand out of his trouser pocket, holding it out towards me, beckoning me forward, so welcoming, so... obviously pleased to see me again, to be reunited. And oh Jesus, it really hurts like hell.
I go straight towards him without hesitation, pushing through a crowd of people waiting to book into the hotel, and I reach up, accepting his hand, grasping onto it tightly.
Those butterflies seem to have multiplied in my stomach as he tugs me with him towards the elevator to go up to our already booked room, his eyes roaming down the shirt and pair of jeans I'm wearing, devouring me, remembering me. My skin tingles beneath his look.
"You look good," he murmurs as we wait, giving my hand a light squeeze. "How are you?"
"I'm good," I reply back, although I feel a little lump in my throat. "How are you?"
"Definitely better now that you came."
"Well, its like you said in your car that time," I whisper, trying to lighten the mood, make a joke out of my feelings, "I wouldn't miss this for the world either."
To my relief, the elevator door opens and we enter, standing close by the wall as another two people enter along with us. His hand is still clinging onto mine. I try to tell myself that, no matter what, I will never forget it, how it feels to be holding hands with him, with how strong and masculine his grip is, the feeling of his hand on mine...
As the elevator doors close on us, there's a silence apart from the two people in front of us who are chattering to each other happily. I turn to glance over up at him, to find he's staring at me, some unidentifiable emotion there in his eyes.
And then I just can't take it any longer...
Losing my composure and hardly caring about the two people in the elevator with us, I stride purposefully closer to him, closing the distance between us even more, making Christian step back a little into the wall behind him. I reach up with an arm, curling it tightly around his neck, holding myself to him while reaching up, cupping the nape of his neck, twisting the small hairs there with my fingers as I lean in. Christian's arm goes around my back, holding me into him, hard and tight, and I press the side of my face into his shirt, hugging him, losing myself in the warmth of his skin that seeps through the fabric of his dress shirt and the way he smells and how he feels holding me.
The elevator stops and dings on the fifth floor. The two people exit, still talking happily, but I ignore them, remaining still where I am, with Christian hugging me tightly, the side of my face resting into his shirt, my fingers playing and tangling with the back of his hair lightly. The doors close a second later, heading up towards our floor- the master suite.
"You OK?" He finally speaks, now that we're officially alone in the elevator, I think. His voice is low and filled with what sounds like concern.
I hope I'm not being too obvious with it, but I nod once against his shirt anyway. "Mm, I'm good," I answer softly. "I just needed this."
Apparently I'm convincing, because he reaches up with his arm and he runs it down my back firmly over my shirt, caressing me, embracing me.
"Had a good week since I last saw you?" he asks, and there's something in his tone. Something knowing, like he can somehow read already that my week has been pretty much anything else but good.
"Not really. It was more of a very long, very tiring week, than a good one."
He hums in response, his head lowering. He rests his chin on the top of my scalp, that glorious smell that uniquely is Christian overwhelming me. "Mine was very much the same, then," he mutters, his breaths tickling the strands of my hair. "Lots of paper work and long hours. I couldn't wait for this time to come, frankly."
"It seems that the time always goes purposefully slow when you are anticipating something."
The spine-tingling short chuckle he gives out warms me. "I know what you mean, Anastasia, honey. It dragged for me too." There he goes again, calling me 'honey'. The elevator finally dings, signalling that we've at last reached the floor. "OK, here we are." Tentatively, I lean back away from him, pulling my hand out from his hair, glancing away.
Why does even so much as looking away from him have to be so painful right now?
I head into the room, and he follows. He strides past me towards the little in-built kitchen and minibar after depositing his overnight bag on the floor, opening the refrigerator. "You want a bit of something to drink?" he calls out me as I fling my own bag next to his.
While I'm still underage, I've had a few small sneaky sips here and there while spending the weekend with him. Christian hadn't seemed to mind, if he did even notice me doing it or not. "Sure, but... only the tiniest bit," I answer back, watching him.
He grabs two tumblers, and plops a small bottle of vodka onto the counter. If there's one thing I've learned well about Christian, it's that sometimes he likes wine, but more often than not, he doesn't mind his alcohol straight, whether it be gin or scotch. Or even vodka. He uncaps the bottle, pouring a decent amount in one of the tumblers, and a smaller amount in the other. The smaller one he hands out to me, and I take it happily.
"So, um... work's been fairly busy then, judging by what you were saying?" I ask quietly, peering into the contents of my glass. The vodka is so clear someone would think it was just plain water.
"Pretty much, yes. It's been a busy week."
I hesitate, before taking a small sip of the vodka. How anyone can drink it straight is a mystery to me. It burns the instance it goes into my mouth, and as I swallow it down, it's so bitter, so disgusting. I cringe, coughing a little at its unpleasant strength. "Ugh. I've definitely decided alcohol isn't for me." As I raise my eyes, meeting Christian's, I can see he's trying not to grin or chuckle out loud at my response. His gray eyes are bright with mirth.
"How are things with Katherine?" he asks, then he brings his own glass up, sipping in a mouthful of the straight vodka. I can't help being impressed when he doesn't grimace or complain over the taste outwardly like I had.
But how are things with me and his daughter? God, how can I even begin to answer that? I make a noise.
"What?" He asks slowly, obviously having caught onto my dismissal of answering. "Is everything OK between you two?"
"Um, not... really, no." I figure lying won't help anything. "We've been arguing a lot lately." I peer down into my glass again, swallowing thickly. "I think she's actually starting to hate me."
No, well, not starting to. I think she already does.
"Starting to hate you?" he repeats, concern etched in his tone. "Why would you think that? Surely not."
"But she is," I insist, confident on it. Swallowing once more thickly, I force myself to look up, into his eyes. His gray eyes stare back at me, solemn, waiting, glass halfway towards his mouth. "She said that she's starting to feel like she doesn't know who I am anymore."
"Why would she feel like she doesn't know who you are anymore?"
But isn't it obvious? Doesn't he already know? "About these weekends, how I'm... away with you." I hesitate, bracing myself before peering up at him reluctantly.
"What about them?"
"Well, I... I sort of made up that I'd be spending the weekends at my mother's house. Obviously she couldn't know the truth, that I'm here, with you..."
Christian moves away from the counter, pacing slowly towards where I'm standing. Once he reaches me, he simply stands near me, closer, eyes on nothing else but me, expression attentive. For some reason, I'd almost had expected him to immediately get angry with me. Or blame me even that she'd suspected me enough to actually try to contact my mother to make sure I was in fact spending the weekends with her. But to my absolute relief, he simply reaches over, tucking a stray strand of hair back behind my earlobe carefully, prompting me silently to go on with what I'm saying, no matter how nervous I am to reveal it to him.
"Last weekend, she called my mother asking to speak to me. Obviously, I wasn't there to talk to her... so my mother told her I wasn't and then... Kate realized."
"Realized?" There's an edge to his tone, a panicked one that he can't quite hide. When I meet his gaze again, I notice the wariness there, the caution. His breathing even goes a little shakier. "Realized- what exactly, honey?"
"That I haven't been spending time at my mom's of a weekend like I'd told her," I explain quickly, desperate for him to understand. "She just feels hurt because I'd lied about where I truly am, and ever since then... it's never really been the same all week between us."
"Right." He sighs a little after digesting my words. He brings up a hand to comb it slowly through his hair, and if I'm not mistaken, he looks a bit... relieved. "So she's realized that you aren't truly staying at your mother's on the weekend then?" he asks slowly, trying to properly understand.
"Y-yeah."
"But she doesn't know anything about us? She doesn't suspect?"
"No, she definitely doesn't suspect anything between us." That is something I know for sure; She doesn't suspect anything is going on between her father and me at all. "So we're safe for the time being. It's just... everything else." Pursing my lips over the tumbler, I force another sip of the vodka in. Just like before, it burns and I cringe, making a noise. It is truly disgusting. "Ugh," I can't help grumbling out, shuddering, and the soft, breathless chuckle he gives me over it, it makes me smile, makes me feel less stressed and more relaxed somehow despite the gravity of all of this.
"You really don't like the vodka much do you?" he asks knowingly, raising his brows.
"No, I really don't. It's revolting. I don't know how you can drink it like that." He laughs at me again and I try to look stern and serious over it, although I'm trying not to laugh myself. "Don't laugh at me. It isn't very nice," I warm, my voice failing me though; It goes shaky with laughter.
Christian clears his throat hoarsely, attempting to look serious himself. "I'm sorry for laughing at you," he murmurs, but I doubt his sincerity.
"No, you're not. I think deep down inside you enjoy laughing at me."
He nods once as if truly considering that statement, shining-laughing eyes still on me, "Fair enough. I suppose that's true, but... I also know that you enjoy laughing at me just as much."
"Hmm. That's true." I brace myself before finishing up the last bit of liquid in my glass, swallowing it down hastily with another cringe. Memories from last weekend return to me as I notice him trying not to laugh at my expression again. "I do enjoy laughing at you," I admit, reaching over, placing my empty glass on the bench. "Want to know why that is?"
I think he gets my game the instance I start to initiate it; Christian smiles before draining the last of the vodka in his own glass, his eyes searching me playfully. He reaches over to place his empty glass next to mine, only he keeps his eyes on nothing else but me. "Oh? So why is that exactly?"
"Because you're funny," I admit, jabbing my hand forward. I poke him in the chest, not too hard, but not too soft either. Just enough to make it worthwhile. "You're a... very..." I draw the words out after each poke playfully, "funny... man."
"You think so?"
"Yeah. I think you are a very funny..." I get myself ready for it, unable to hide my grin, as I inch back a few steps away from him cautiously, "Poor old man, Mr Grey."
I watch his face very carefully with an uncontrollable smile as it hits him and sinks in, those words. Poor old man. He'd gotten so playfully funny over me calling him that last week, and I couldn't resist playing with him again. It's just too much fun.
And... who am I kidding? Teasing him is sort of arousing as well. And exciting.
"So..." He straightens up to his full height with a loud sigh, a menacing look coming over him. I know it's all intended in playfulness though. At least, I think it is. He is too good an actor though. "I'm a funny 'poor old man', am I?" He says it through gritted teeth, his voice low, eyes glinting at me mischievously.
A frisson of exhilaration runs through me . "Yeah, that's exactly what you are. A funny poor old man."
"All right." I realize I'm holding my breath, captivated, as Christian starts slowly moving towards me. Playfully and obviously, I think, he unbuttons one of the cuff-links on his sleeve, pulling it up over his forearm, folding it so his entire wrist and hand is bare. "You've asked for it now."
"Asked for it?" I can barely contain my own excitement as I start moving again, stepping backwards while keeping my eyes on nothing else but his. His shine back at me, excited, enjoying the game just as much. "Asked for what, Mr Grey?"
"I think you know what."
"What? Are you gonna spank me now for calling you a poor old man?"
I know he is. I can tell. And maybe I want him to.
"Yes, and I think that is exactly what you deserve. A good hard spanking."
I can tell he's trying to look his most menacing and scariest, only he fails. I find him too sexy to even truly be frightening. And this whole entire the game... the idea of him giving me a good hard spanking, it's tantalizing.
"So that's what you're gonna do? Give me a good hard spanking?" He's still moving slowly towards me, trying to edge his way obliviously towards me with each small step he takes closer. Only I think my height and smallness gives me an advantage. I'm too swift, too quick. And yeah, maybe a little more limber due to youth on my side.
"After a good hard spanking, maybe I'll throw in some kisses too. To alleviate the redness, of course."
"Well, then. Good luck with that. You're just gonna have to try catch me first, poor old man. I'm not gonna come easily."
"Come easily?" He repeats, and I feel heat blast my face at the obvious deviant meaning to it. His eyes narrow at me, blazing with playfulness and... something else altogether. "Oh, well... actually you do come easily. And often, for the record."
The sly innuendo makes us both laugh quietly.
"Wow, I never pegged you for the dirty type, Mr Grey. That's very suggestive and naughty of you."
"But true, isn't it?" he murmurs in defense for himself as he follows me around the couch.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, talking dirty like that," I tease. "Especially at your age, you dirty man."
I go left, and he goes right, his long arms outstretched with a lunge. I just barely get away, and he laughs again, his breathing shaky, labored.
"Ooh, close but not close enough," I mock. "You almost had me, but... as you'll learn, I'm pretty fast. Too fast for you, maybe."
"Doubtful."
He lunges for me again, and my back smacks the wall behind me. I gasp, swivelling away from it hastily. Christian watches, still in the game.
"Careful you don't hurt yourself or run into another wall," he murmurs, the warning serious despite everything we're doing. "I wouldn't forgive myself if you truly ended up injuring yourself."
"What? Like my ass isn't going to be injured once you get to it with your hand?"
Suddenly, he lunges for me again and I turn and start running. I barely make it into the bedroom before he comes behind me, arms winding around my waist, pulling me back and into him. We're both laughing, gasping, winded from the game. As his arms loosen around my waist, I manage to get free, moving towards the bed. I use my arms to prop myself up while angling my ass in the air, waiting for it. When I glance behind my shoulder, I see Christian standing there, watching me and the way I've deliberately angled my ass up higher into the air, half off the mattress. He's still winded and breathing loudly.
"Well? Where's that good hard spank you promised me, poor old man?"
"You know, for a moment there, I thought I might show you mercy and forget the spanks after all." He comes behind me, near my playfully pushed up behind, standing right there. Playfully and unable to stop myself, I wiggle my butt a little at him, and I hear him inhale deeply as he moves even closer, to the point where as I wiggle, I feel his groin behind me, the material of his trousers up against me, his heat. "But now... there's no way in fucking hell. You deserve it."
"I'm not afraid of you," I murmur, my voice weirdly high, breathless. "Or your threat of giving me some good hard spanks."
As I lift up onto my hands on the mattress, supporting myself up on each arm easier, my backside through my jeans rubs into his groin even harder and better- just as I was hoping. The deep sudden groan he gives out, the strained noise... I have to press my lips together to stop myself from laughing out loud.
"You..." he growls playfully, menacingly. He grasps my hips in both hands suddenly, holding me still. He's gripping just rough enough that I can feel it. "You cheeky..." Without warning, he reaches down, slipping both hands into the band of my jeans, yanking, "Beautiful little..." pulling them down, as well as my underwear, beneath my knees, "Minx, you."
Fresh air hits my exposed buttocks as he wraps a hand over my waist again, holding me still.
And then he smacks me, hard. Even although I knew he was going to do it, i still shocks me as his palm thwacks across the flesh of my left buttocks. And then just as suddenly he does it again, only to my right side, making both of them throb and burn.
I inhale sharply, my arms buckling already to hold my weight above the mattress.
"More?" he asks behind me, his voice near my ear. "Or has the poor old man done enough to you now?"
Just like how it was last week, I find this to be so fun, so addictive, the spanking and the way he talks to me. It's all so fun, so refreshing. But I want more. So, so much more.
"More," I murmur breathlessly. "So much more. Please."
A satisfied groan I've never heard come from myself before tears out between my teeth as he brings his hand up, only to smack me right in the center of my buttocks again. The sting, the slight pain and rush of blood, it feels so good. It makes me feel alive.
I can hear him behind me, panting louder each and every second that goes by, one hand still holding my waist and fingers digging into me for support. Then I hear something new, something resembling a belt buckle unclasping. The rustle of clothes, a zipper. I don't even need to glance behind me to know he's pulling down his trousers around his ankles, his shoes.
But my distraction fades the minute he's spanking me again, this time with an underarm smack.
"Oh!" I gasp out.
It isn't exactly on my cheeks this time, but... underneath. Near my privates. Weirdly, a tingly throb develops at the contact of his palm, a heat gushing below. Next, I feel his mouth, his nose on me. On where he hit me; He plants a few open-mouthed, hot kisses where he spanked me on my bottom. My belly clenches but in an extremely good way.
"I want to touch you," he murmurs, and for a second, I don't quite understand where exactly he means, until he runs his hand slowly down my back.
His fingers trace the crack of my buttocks, then go... right lower. I'm panting, and I'm fairly certain I can hear him breathing even more loudly as well.
"Jesus, honey," he mutters, his fingers still tracing down there, going near my folds, digging in even deeper. "Do you notice how wet you are?"
He eases a few tips of his fingers in and out of me, and automatically, I can't help bucking, can't help rocking on the bed. I groan as a sensation begins to build down there and Christian... he makes a deep husky noise at the back of his throat.
"Can you feel that? Feel how sopping wet you are on my fingers, honey?"
I feel my chest break out in a hot flush at his words, which I'm not sure is due to either embarrassment or arousal. Maybe it's mainly arousal? I'm not sure. All I know is that I have never heard him speak this way to me before, so dirtily, so sexily. I'm definitely learning I'm one for dirty talk, although I have a feeling its mainly due to the man doing this to me, and my trust in him.
"I think that's enough now," he whispers, voice urgent and hoarse. Giving me a few last strokes and ignoring my whimper of upset over him stopping, he abruptly hits me again on my backside - more like a swift tap this time than anything, though- and then before I know it, he's grasping me by the waist, helping me to fling over onto my back on the mattress.
I fall back, facing him this time, Christian panting desperately; eyes on nothing else but me and wild, trousers hanging around his ankles, erection and other parts bare to me.
"Yes," I murmur, breathless. I don't want to waste anytime, and it appears neither does he. Without bothering to remove his dress shirt- or me with mine for that matter- I welcome him, leaning back on the bed eagerly, spreading my legs wider.
He slides in easily from his arousal of me from earlier, and I reach up, grasping onto his shoulders, breathing heavily. First push in, and he breathes harshly, his panting matching mine. I reach up, cupping onto the back of the nape of his neck while my other hand, I run down his dress shirt slowly, tracing the outline of his spine that pokes through it, that moves with each forceful thrust he does into me.
As I go lower with my hand, reaching the tail-end of his shirt, and where his buttocks are exposed, that tight fine ass of his, I use my hand, grasping, groping it. As he eases in and out of me again several times, his glorious ass muscles clench tightly and loosen. I definitely adore the man's fine backside. I moan in happiness.
Being distracted from feeling out his ass and enjoying the sensations of him inside me, it takes me a belated moment to realize Christian's just staring directly right down at me, watching my face, taking in every reaction I make with every thrust and ease.
Like many times, I am blown away, unable to do anything else but to meet his gaze, to stare back into his eyes, admiring him, his look of pleasure, his half-hooded eyes, little grunts and groans. The intimacy of looking into someone's eyes while attached so personally to them...I will never get over it, I think.
Tightening my hold around his neck, I force him down a little, capturing my mouth with Christian's, tiring of simply staring and not kissing, especially while he's doing... this to me. Christian kisses me back, our lips dancing together, breaths swallowed in each other's mouths. I don't think I will get over his kisses, either.
I push my head back into the mattress, breathing hard, separating our mouths.
"How am I doing, hmm?" he asks, breathing just as uneven as me. "How's the poor old man doing now?" Obviously he knew what he was doing, Each slow thrust, it grows, increasingly intenser and intenser, the feeling, the pleasure.
"He's doing really... really well," I manage, reaching up, caressing his face.
"Yeah?" he hisses.
"Mm," I hum, licking my lips, smoothing back the strands of his hair. "For an old man, I mean," I add teasingly with a laugh. Christian chuckles in return, making my spine tingle and shiver.
Just when I wonder how much longer it can possibly go on for, this mountain, this high tide of pleasure... of feeling, it begins. I shiver as my insides tighten, quiver... and then I recognize I'm near to the brink. Christian obviously is as well because, a second later, he drops his head to rest his sweaty forehead against mine, jerking deeper and deeper inside me.
"Oh, god," I mutter, "Oh, Jesus," and then it happens, that euphoric feeling building to its peak.
I cry out as it fills me and bursts within me, making me float, explode... Barely five seconds later, Christian buries his nose into my hair and climaxes loudly, ceasing our hips movements, legs going stiff in-between mine.
Post-climax, we stay as we are, his forehead resting against mine, legs between mine, for a long moment, lost in each other's shallow breathing as we recover. I clench my eyes shut, selfishly trying to enjoy the moment, the moment of him being wrapped around me, on top of me, keeping me beneath him on the bed.
The heat him of him- of me- it's so warm, so warm and tiring. And nice. Especially nice and comfy and comforting.
It just makes everything all the more painful.
After a long peaceful moment, Christian slowly raises his head, peering down at me, blinking slowly. He moves a little, propping an elbow up near my side, and he reaches down with his hand to gently stroke beneath my chin with his fingers, his gaze intense, searching. The way he looks at me, how intense his gaze is, the emotion blaring in his gray eyes for me... my heart constricts painfully as a lump builds in my throat. Can anyone possibly look so content, so loving as he does right now- peering right down at me?
"Have to say I love the way you look at me," I manage weakly, combing my fingers through the sides of hair gently.
He tilts his head a little, raises his brows at me. "Do you?"
"I do. I really, really do."
We stare at each other, blinking slowly. And then... it rains down on me, this excruciating feeling. My throat tightens, a feeling resembling glass painfully slicing through my heart at I know what's to eventually come, if not tonight, but after this weekend before we have to separate again.
Something glides and tickles around my eyes. Christian's gaze seems to go anxiously probing as his eyes search mine. "You OK?" he asks, his voice etched with concern. He lifts up his fingers from my chin, stroking... caressing around my face with those masculine long fingers of his.
His question confuses me. "W-why would I be OK?"
"Because you're crying?" He swallows audibly once, fingers sweeping gently down one of my eyes. I feel it then, wetness. He's thumbing around my eyelids, wiping my tears away. Oh, I'm crying. "Why? Why are you crying, honey? Did I hurt you or something?"
"Only... only where you spanked me on my ass, it hurts just a little." I sniff loudly, then have to giggle weakly.
"Is that why you're crying?"
"Uh, no. I just..." His fingers go beneath my chin again, stroking me, tickling and tracing around the shape of my jaw. "I think it's just... everything. It's all gotten too much for me."
"What has? Us?" He sounds as if he's suddenly holding his breath.
"Not just us, but... Kate," I choke out, deciding to be honest. It isn't fair to be anything but honest with him. "This week... Kate's anger at me over finding out I'd lied about my whereabouts on the weekends, how I wasn't truly staying at my mom's..."
I have to say it and do it sooner or later. It may as well be now.
"Can I ask something of you?" I begin anxiously, trying to concentrate on nothing else but making sure he explains. His fingers, I find, touching me, is too distracting.
Although it's hard, I push myself up into a sitting position, more propped up against the headboard. It creates a little bit of distance between us I guess, which makes it easier, now that he isn't so close and touching me, covering me with his comforting warmth.
I steal a look at him anxiously and find he's staring at me, some sort of apprehension or nerves in his expression as he waits for me to begin. But then I find looking at him even more painful so I fold my hands in my lap and focus on my fingers instead as I twiddle them.
"It's all just been too much lately. Kate's demanding questions on where I am and... obviously, her accusations. I'm not used to lying to someone." I inhale in deeply, squinting down at my hands. "Kate definitely knows that something is up, although she mightn't know who it is that I'm with. Even so, the lies, the sneaking around... it's already coming between us to the point where she told me that she literally feels as though she doesn't know who I am any longer."
I suck in a heavy breath, shying away from his scrutinizing gaze reluctantly. I wonder if Christian already knows what I'm trying to say, but surprisingly, he just lays there, on his side, hearing me out patiently while I try my very hardest not to break down and cry even more.
"I know that once she does find out about us, she'll probably disown me as a friend. She would probably even disown you as her daughter and would never speak to you ever again. I know that. I know how she is and how she'll react to things."
Finally, after a while of silence from him, Christian makes a noise. He sighs loudly, in a resigned, tired way. Then I catch the movement of him rolling forward a little on the bed, closer to me, his arm lifting out... He grasps one of my hands in his, squeezing gently, consoling me. My heart constricts again painfully, suffocating.
"I have considered every possibility, Ana." His voice is barely above a whisper, something soft and calming to his tone as he uses this thumb to stroke back and forth over my knuckles. "I didn't just waltz into this blindly without considering all the possibilities and potential negative consequences that could come out of this once we revealed we were together."
Swallowing, I risk another peek over at him. He doesn't stare at me, he simply looks away, down at my hand, which he strokes back and forth rhythmically with both his thumb and forefinger.
"I know there's a possibility there that Katherine potentially wouldn't wish to see me ever again and that she'll feel betrayed, but... I also know what I want and I also know what I feel is worth it in the end regardless of what happens along the way." He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, eyes still on my hand as he traces a pattern around my knuckles. "I know what I want, and I believe I've already told you that I love you. You know where my feelings stand."
My heart seizes. "I know that, and I love you too, Christian, but it's just that I-" My voice trails off, my eyes going blurry as he lifts his chin and regards me with his gray eyes. God, it's just too hard. So hard. "I just... I can't do this anymore. I really don't feel like I can."
I know beyond a doubt that I've failed at composing myself when the tears ooze relentlessly down my cheeks and I began shaking, sobbing with despair.
"I just know that this will destroy my friendship with Kate in the end and already she has so much resentment towards me and I can't handle the stress of lying to her anymore. I just... I can't do it."
"So... what do you want to do, Ana?" His voice, it goes unsteady and hoarse. The sound of it, it almost tears me apart alone. "What are you asking of me? What is there that I can do?"
"I need you to wait for me. Just wait for a little bit."
"Wait for what?" He asks slowly, shaking his head. There's confusion in his eyes, pain. "Why would I need to wait for you? Where are you going exactly?"
"I'm not going anywhere," I admit desperately, edging closer to where he's sitting, aching for him to understand. I know this is selfish of me, but I know it's what I need. All the soul searching from the night before, all day... it's given me all this. "I know it's selfish of me to ask this of you, but I've been thinking a lot lately and I just need for you to wait for me, until... until I'm ready."
I gaze at him through tear-stained lashes, trying to decipher his expression to see if he understands and if he's following me or not.
"This weekend, it... it has to be the last for a while, the weekends spent meeting and being together," it feels like it's killing me to say it, but it truly is the only way. "Just until I can build up Kate's trust in me again, just until... until we're ready to be out in the open."
Before I can practically stop myself, I'm bending down, curling my arms tightly around his neck, hugging myself to him as more tears flow uncontrollably. Just when I start to suspect he hates me or he's mad at me, that I'm being horribly selfish, Christian reaches around me, cooing softly into my hair, returning my hug tightly. I exhale deeply in relief, shutting my eyes tight against the tears.
"I hate to ask for it and I... I know it's selfish of me, but...can we just for a little while?" I blab out desperately into his shoulder, finding solace in his hand stroking my hair, my back. "I just can't handle lying to her and it's killing me right now, all the-"
"-Shh," he cuts over me gently, squeezing me. "Ana, it's fine. It isn't selfish at all, OK?"
"Promise you won't hate me? It won't be a forever thing, just... a couple of weekends or something, just so that-"
"-Ana, it's fine. I understand, whatever you need," he whispers softly and it only just makes me weep into his neck even louder. "Shh, please don't cry, honey. It'll all work out."
"I do love you, and I do want to be with you," I get out urgently. "Please don't think that I don't for a second. There's only you, no one else but you."
"I know. You don't need to explain yourself." He kisses around my forehead, nuzzling me with his bristly chin. "And besides, I was thinking..." He trails off uncertainly, as if hesitating himself for some reason to finish his own sentence.
"You were thinking?" I prompt weakly.
With a sigh, he pulls back slightly, leaning back with his head so I have no choice but to turn my head to glance up at him. My eyes are still blurry, but I think I manage to see him OK. "When you're older...about two years from now, after your education is completely over... I'd love to start the next stage of our life together."
When you're older about two years from now... It repeats in my head, circling around, confounding me.
"I want to be with you for the rest of my life," he murmurs softly, and even through my tears, I can see the amount of genuine sincerity in his expression and in his tone. It takes my breath away, builds me up with more hope. "I want you to eventually move in with me, live in my house with me. Share a more active part of my life with me."
My heart, it's swollen. All thanks to his words, it's filled with such hope, with such relief for the future... He wants to spend the rest of his life with me. He wants me, for the long-haul.
"I know that nothing is ever permanent, and that... things can change with time, but... if and when you do feel ready, two years from now or... even more- no pressure- I want you to know that I'll be waiting to spend the rest of my life with you, even if that means, as you say, not seeing each other for a while so that things can get better between you and Katherine."
"Really?" I can barely raise my voice to talk. "You really want to spend the rest of your life with me?"
"Really, honey." Christian nods once, his eyes shining with honesty. "And OK, we'll stop this for a while. Whatever you need." Crushing me tighter in his arms and leaning back on the bed, he brings me with him until we are laying down together, his arms wrapped around me, holding me as I lay on him. "It's going to be hard but... whatever you need."
He's right and it is going to be hard. I'll be missing being around him like crazy. But it's the only solution right now that I can come up with right now, the only one to hopefully somewhat restore the relationship and trust I have with his daughter, my best friend.
...
On Sunday, I'm woken up by a soft pounding on the hotel room door.
I stir, blinking and blinded momentarily by the bright white morning light seeping in through the open curtains into the hotel room bedroom. To my surprise, the sheets next to me are completely empty in the bed. But then I think I can hear Christian's masculine, whispered voice outside. He must be speaking to whoever is on the other side of the hotel room door, with not wanting to wake me just yet.
I hear his voice fade off and the door closing, and then I hear something rattling and the sound of bare footsteps against the marble floor. I sit up weakly just in time to notice Christian entering the bedroom with a tray. He's still shirtless, dressed in just boxer briefs. The tray he is carrying has an assortment of breads and spreads and even a kettle with either coffee or tea in it. Breakfast.
"Hi," I murmur softly as Christian smiles, still carrying that tray over towards where I'm laying. He manages to yank back the sheets to sit in beside me, resting the tray on the mattress near us. Breakfast in bed. "Ooh, so this is what getting spoiled feels like," I manage nervously when he leans in, planting a chaste kiss on my mouth.
"Mm. I thought I'd order room service while I let you sleep in. Seems you needed it."
"Well, thank you," I whisper appreciatively as I watch him dish out the bread on two plates, and then pour us a drink in two separate mugs. "What time is it though?"
"Just after 10 in the morning."
After 10 in the morning already? Yikes, I really slept in.
He passes me my mug and we spend a few moments in silence, with only the sound between us the clatter of our plates and knives as we eat breakfast. I dig into my toast eagerly, finding myself famished and ravenous. I wonder if last nights energetic love making has something to do with it though.
"Did you sleep well?" he whispers once he's finished with his own breakfast. I turn, catching him popping a finger into his mouth, sucking off a bit of butter he must have gotten onto it off. Just like that, my stomach does a little dance at the deliciousness of him.
"I did actually. I slept really well."
"And are you feeling OK still?"
"OK?"
"After what we talked about? About everything we discussed?" I nod but I mustn't be too convincing on him, because he elaborates gently, "It'll only be for a while, a sort of long-distance thing, like you suggested. Then... hopefully, after a couple of years and when you're finished with your education, we can finally move in together and start the next stages of our life together."
It feels weirdly soothing, having a definite plan about what's going to happen between us. Moving in with him, starting an actual proper life together in a few years, no longer being a secret... It's good to know where we both stand and what the plans are. It's good to know we both are thinking of the future and that we both want and have the same things in mind for us. Even if it takes us a little while longer to get there, it's so empowering, so exciting, to know that Christian wants me for the long-haul, that he does actually want and see a future for us long-term. It's everything I think I've wanted and more.
It will just be telling Kate and overcoming her reaction that's the tricky part.
"Even if Katherine reacts badly, she'll eventually get over it," he adds, as if he can read my mind, as if he knows exactly where my heads at. "It might take her some time, but I'm confident she will." At least one of us is confident then, because... as for myself, I am not so sure.
My appetite thoroughly ruined at all things Kate, I toss my last bit of toast aside on the tray, nauseated. "I think what worries me the most is that she mightn't want to have anything to do with you anymore," I admit, confirming my worst fears as I clasp my hands tightly around my mug of tea. "She might feel really betrayed most of all that her father did this behind her back and then... I'd hate for you to hold that against me, to know that doing this with me, it's the whole reason why she won't speak to you."
"Ana, it takes two, and I made this choice just as much as you did." I know he's trying to reassure me but I still can't help but feel ill at the thought. "No matter what happens, you don't need to worry about that. I could never blame you for anything that happens once we reveal to Katherine that we're together, because... I'm an adult, I make my own choices in life. I'll just have to accept the blame and her hatred when the time comes." He shrugs, as if it's not a big deal at all. Which I'm pretty sure it is though.
Talking about it all, this entire conversation, it just makes me feel disgusting. Disgusting and sick. And after realizing and noticing Christian just lying there, eyeing me speculatively, I realize he must notice the effect it has on me too.
Reaching down, he grabs the breakfast tray and deposits it carefully on the bedside drawer next to him, freeing up the bed. And then, without warning, he shoves the sheets off my body and launches himself down over me so hard with a passion-filled kiss that it distracts me and puts me in a better mood almost immediately.
Reaching up, grabbing his face between my hands, I kiss him back, tasting his tongue and moaning in surprise as he slips it in to thrust it against mine sensually. Pushing me into the pillow, holding me down onto the mattress, desire curls inside me, making me hot and ready for more.
As he slides his tongue around my open lips, tracing them as I shudder, he pulls back a little, panting heavily.
"You're really good at distracting me," I murmur into his mouth, my breathing ragged.
He makes a deep, half-amused noise in response. "You think so?"
"Mmm." I caress his head, running my fingers through the strands at the back of his scalp gently. "You somehow know all the right methods to clear my mind of all worries and thoughts perfectly."
"Then how about we make this worthwhile and make the most of the last few hours we have together until we have to check out and won't see each other again until after a while?"
He doesn't need to ask me twice. As Christian leans in, using his talented mouth to nip, suck and tantalize every spot on my throat and around my chest, I reach down between us, finding his boxers blindly. I manage to get them halfway down and he helps me out eagerly, springing himself free. He inhales sharply and makes the most sexiest grunting noise as I take him into my hand without warning him, and barely a second later, I realize he's right.
We should definitely make the most of it. Because this will be the last weekend we'll be spending with each other- overnight and all- until we see each other again, which will be only God knows when.
SORRY THAT THIS CHAP IS HORRIBLE
HOPE YOU WILL FORGIVE ME. THINGS WONT TURn OUT AS SEEM SO EXPECT DRAMA TO ENFOLD, THANKS SO MUCH FOR SUPPORt XX