She woke up before he did. She observed that by some miracle they had ended up comfortably in her bed. She could see a trail from the doorway of disturbed objects along the shelves where she had been pressed backwards by the force of his insatiable desire. She knew her body must be covered in bruises by now, not that she minded, however she did hope that they would not appear in any places she could not conveniently cover up with clothing.

She watched his chest rise and fall slowly now. The contrast from his behavior last night was profound and almost comical. His silence and calmness made him seem almost and entirely different man. This man deeply intrigued her. What is it about you, Christian Whoever-you-are, that pulls me like this, she wondered vaguely, her hand being gently lifted and dropped by his muscular stomach. As she closed her eyes again she felt him draw a deeper breath.

His eyes opened directly onto her. She was the first thing he saw, the only thing he saw. Her huge dark eyes were closed to him but he could feel she was awake. He kissed her forehead and her eyes opened at him. Like mugs of steaming coffee they made his mind clearer, he wanted to just drink them in.

"Before you go making any significant judgments of my character, I'd just like to make sure you know that I don't normally go sleeping with people before ever speaking to them." She said as she lifted herself up onto her elbow.

He laughed, "I don't think I could bring myself to criticize whatever it was in your character that made yesterday happen."

She laughed. The rest of his life was still quite a mystery to her. "What do you do, Christian?" Her tone was curious.

"Well, I just try to live simply but all I achieve is that I simply live. But I'm not complaining, with the money I was born into it was difficult for me to find a meaningful hobby as I felt I needn't do anything. But writing gave me the ability to make a new world for myself, where money and life were of no grave importance." He was tracing circles on her thigh with his index finger.

"What sort of novel is it?" She had a little trouble forming her sentence as his finger trailed tantalizingly higher up her thigh.

"Oh, it doesn't really have a genre… but if I had to define it, I'd probably say it's organic." She found it almost amusing when he spoke so seriously. "It works on the philosophy of possession, that's why I sold everything, so I could really know what it's like to have nothing."

"I see." This serious, philosophical side of him intrigued her. A side that she would never have conceived could exist in a man with such a fiercely dominant force in the bedroom.

"So what is it that you do, Miss Anastasia?" He asked, his hand still moving on her upper thigh.

"I'm a criminal lawyer." She said. She had always felt that her job was quite severe sounding when she said it out loud and had never been able to decide if she liked that or not. But in this situation she was pleased by the way it sounded, although she wasn't quite sure why.

"That's quite the powerful job you have." He said slyly. He knew the way he had dominated her in the last twenty-four hours must have been a shock to her system. A welcome one he hoped.

"Mmm it is." She hummed, lowering her face to his chest and sliding her hands further down from his stomach, searching. She heard his breath catch before he let his upper body roll flat into the mattress. She pressed her lips to his belly button before disappearing below the sheet.

It was times like this when Christian wanted to just stay in that moment for as long as he could. The feeling she could give him with her mouth was unbelievable, he would not think nor move for fear of losing it. She played and moved on him, finding, without fail, every possible way to please him.

There was a somewhat grave look on her face when she finally surfaced. It was just after nine and she could not put off getting up any longer.

Her desk sat before her eyes but not before her mind. Pen in hand, she sat twirling her hair and looking off into the distance.

She heard the garbage truck pull up in front of her house, it's huge engine making her ears more than aware of it's powerful presence. She knew what was inside the truck, the smell of the first morning with Christian, the smell of passion and curiosity. It drove her to look outside of her house.

The door of the truck slammed open and Christian swung his body out with one arm, somewhat in slow motion, ripping off his shirt with the other. The morning sunlight shone off his golden, oiled torso. His muscles glinting, sending her mind off on countless tangents, fueled by the effervescence of his apparition. She could see his muscles rippling as he walked purposefully up the garden path towards her.

She was sitting in a chair when he reached her. His stomach muscles only millimeters from her left cheek, she was sorely tempted to lick the toned lines. His crotch was almost touching her chin, almost. She longed for it to be closer. And her longing was answered.

His pants were ripped off in one movement, the force leaving his body parts swinging slightly. She reached out to touch it and heard something fall but she could not see what it was. The pen had fallen from her hand to the floor beside her desk chair and rolled until it hit the bin in the corner of her office. The quivering body parts had become still, their shapes reinforced by a new vigor that had entered the both of them.

He moved himself around her, allowing her eyes to take him in from every angle. She could feel him, throbbing, against her temple. She reached out and grabbed hold of him, pulling him to her. His perfectly oiled skin collided with her conveniently bare body. He pulled her from her chair and soon had her pressed against a wall. She saw a picture near her head tremble and skew from the impact.

He had a firm hold of her body, she let him do what he pleased and he took her by the arm and slapped her softly at first but then harder and no matter how hard he hit she didn't feel pain, only arousal. She longed for him to keep going but there was a knock on the door and she was forced to detangle herself from him.

Still reeling from her fantasy, she opened the door to her client, "Please come in, Mr Casey."

A soft breeze flowed past the vegetation that surrounded the courtyard of the café Christian found himself in. The salty smell of his vegan burger mixed with his watery thoughts as he gazed into the shrubbery.

The ship rocked gently on the midnight ocean. The deck was clear, his fellow sailors were below deck, leaving him on his own in silence. But he could tell he was not alone. He could hear the creaking of masts and sails, the waves lapping greedily at the sides of the boat. Then he saw a body suddenly swinging across the deck from a thick, white rope.

His mind filled with sweet desperation he watched her body slide down the rope and onto the deck of his ship. She pounced on him, her half naked body only covered in the parts he truly wished so see. As much as he tried, he could not fight her off. His hand caught hold of the rope she had swung off. It's loose coils felt satisfying in his hand. He brought the rope down upon her back, making her writhe in savage arousal. He himself felt a mirror of his emotion. He continued to stroke her with the rope's rounded tip.

He relished in the power the rope gave him. Their bodies found their way to the center mast where he pressed into her with such force that she no longer needed to support her own weight. He took her wrists in his hand and tied her arms to the mast, spreading her body before him like an undiscovered wonderland. She let out a moan that set every last one of the hairs on his body on end. He shivered with delight and anticipation but this was short lived.

"Are you finished with your meal sir?" The waitress seemed tentative, as though Christian had made a noise that had made her uncomfortable.

"No, not quite." He said, smiling. Only he noticed the irony.