Chapter 30: Hidden Desires

AN: There's just something about this chapter that gets me excited and that's probably why it took me so long to write it. I conceptualized this chapter right around the time of the thanksgiving chapter so it's been on my mind for a while. I'm proud of all my chapters but this one just hits different for some reason. Along with all the drama, John is clearly on demon time in this so get ready for the dirtiest, smuttiest smut you've ever read. I also want to thank you all once more for your continued support and patience for this awkward, introverted writer. It means so much to me!


December 29th - 12:45pm:

The train ride lasted for a good hour and a half and you spent just about every second of it staring out the window. You wanted every single view and landscape edge into your mind. There were trains that could take you to Paris if you so wished but that could be a whole other trip at another time. For now, you would continue to enjoy this one for as long as you could.

The first observation you made was that their train stations were not like the train stations in New York where the trains were abundant. You stared in awe at the sign that read ANTWERPEN in large, bold lettering. The massive cathedral-like rail station was nice to look at especially when a person first stepped off the train. There were ornate wall designs along the ceiling and it was quite the visual spectacle. The train stations in New York should be ashamed of themselves.

The wind still chilled you to the bone though and it was the only grievance you had.

With your hand tightly encased in his, John made sure to keep you extremely close to his person. You guess that his hand was supposed to act as a leash of sorts to keep you from wandering off like you did the previous day. He obviously thought you hadn't learned your lesson from wandering off after you nearly fell into a pond trying to snap pictures. He wouldn't allow any mishaps like that this time around. Not only that but it was very easy to get lost in the constantly moving sea of bodies. You didn't have a tourist book to help you navigate your way this time and you certainly didn't have an idea of where to go anyway. Clearly John knew where to go and what pathways to take while you did not. Therefore it was best to simply follow his lead.

As you walk the winding streets and pathways, you're mesmerized by the charming energy of the city itself. There's a calmness among the townsfolk and a cleanliness that graces the streets that you would never experience back home. Almost every building resembled a medieval castle and you bet money that Antwerp looked like something straight out of a fairytale at night. The century old buildings were truly breathtaking, absolute marvels you thought were lost to time. And off that distinction alone you concluded that Antwerp was definitely more populated and expansive. The bustling city was slightly more modern than you were expecting. The streets were crowded with moving bodies intent on exploring the various food places, brand shops, and large chain stores. There was definitely a lot more walking than you expected.

Though you can barely understand what most of the signs are saying but a little reading in between the lines never hurt. There was still an abundance of Christmas related decorations up that you think won't come down until the start of the New Year which is about two days away. By looking in the windows and seeing what merchandise was on display, you can determine what kind of shop it was. Most of them are quite interesting. From ceramic shops to trendy clothing stores you don't know how to pronounce the names of.

After some time spent scouting, you both come across a huge structure of a building. You don't want to call it a mall as it felt too monumental for that but that was the closest thing you could associate it with. According to John, the massive building currently houses a total of fifty shops and it's considered to be a shopping and fashion epicenter.

Upon further inspection, you noticed that the stores were a mix of national and international brands, some of which you recognized. You took your time sifting through various items on display for purchase despite initially not wanting to linger in one shop for too long. You wanted to have time to visit quite a few of the shops on the upper level, not all of them. And to top it off, there's so many boutique and fashion districts in the general area that you're anxious to visit. Even the vintage shops warrant a suitable visit at some point. Between the plethora of goods and a patient lover, you had all the time in the world.

There were quite a number of places you checked out that you didn't even regularly frequent back in New York. You didn't really pay much attention to jewelry shops just because your money had never been set up for anything like that but a few gleaming pieces had caught your attention without you even having to step foot inside the store. It wasn't your intention to go diamond hunting, it just kind of happened organically. You weren't even a jewelry girl but you could admire a fine piece of jewelry when it called for it.

The fine details embedded in the pieces of jewelry were simply incredible to look at. From rings, to bracelets, to necklaces.

There was one thing in particular that caught your attention - encased in a secure glass box on the center of the display case, was a ring situated in a black satin box.

Frankly, you'd heard of attention grabbing rings but this was just ridiculous. You couldn't use corny words like cute to convey the physical attributes, instead had to use all those big fancy ass words like exquisite or pulchritudinous to describe it. Hell, even you were surprised you knew what the last one meant.

The style was gloriously feminine, traditional, simple but not simple. The radiant gemstone shone with the most enthralling beauty you'd ever seen a ring encompass. The modified oval-shaped diamond centerpiece was surrounded by smaller stones. Overall, it was quite striking even for a ring's standards and it transcended your expectations for what a ring should look like.

Vividly, the band was a luscious piece of jewelry that inspired some strong feelings in you just like the locket that John gifted you days prior. After stealing and wearing a few of her jewelry pieces to school, your mother had to sit you down and explain that anyone can wear all the jewelry that they wanted but it ultimately didn't mean anything if they didn't form an emotional connection to the pieces. Now all these years later you can finally grasp what she meant.

Unconsciously, your hand came up to grip the locket hanging from your neck. Much like when you first laid eyes on the locket, the emotional connection was instant.

Just standing there, your heart leapt with want but that want was pushed down by disappointment when you caught a glimpse of the hefty price tag attached to it. You might have to sell a kidney, and an arm for you to be able to purchase the damn thing. You thought about taking a chance but you knew the price greatly exceeded that spending limit of your black allowance card that John had given you. Not that it even mattered, it wasn't like he'd allow you to use it anyway. You haven't been able to swipe it one time since you stepped foot on Belgium soil. There was only one time you tried to behind his back, he promptly snatched it right out of your hand and produced his card instead. Talk about aggressive chivalry.

What's the use of having your own card and not being able to use it because he wanted to use his money instead?

What would you do with a ring like that other than keep it put up so it wouldn't get lost or damaged? You almost didn't want to take your eyes from the box when the sound of footsteps approaching from behind quickly had you pulling your eyes away. You started overlooking the other items pretending to browse them as if you weren't just fixated on the one item you were actually interested in.

You ended up leaving the jewelry store not long after that, choosing to shift your interest to a clothing store alongside it.

To be frank, you're weren't hunting for any specific item, just a few things and souvenirs to bring back home. They don't even have to be for you. Having already inspected a number of clothes and said, "This is nice", a hundred times before placing it back where you found it like a typical black person shopping, you figure it's finally time to start getting serious.

You're in the middle of looking over a gorgeous fuchsia dress when a male's smooth accented voice draws your attention. "Excuse me madam…a few moments of your time please?"

Straight away, the accent gave away that he was clearly of French origin. When you turned to face him, you were struck by his appearance. He had mousy brown hair, a pointed nose and clear-cut azure eyes. And enough facial hair for it to be considered a beard by many's standards.

"Yes?" You answered.

"Are you seeking to buy this dress?" He gestured to the fabric still in your hands.

For a second, you thought he was an employee inquiring on whether or not you were actually looking to purchase an item in question. As a black woman, it wouldn't be your first time being racially profiled in a store and it likely wouldn't be the last. That's the harsh reality that you have to live with. You've just adapted to handling those types of situations better.

"Well I haven't decided just yet." You sheepishly replied.

While being approached out of the blue as a woman was always startling, you can admit to always having your hackles up because of it. You hate how jumpy and on edge you've become because of that fact. There was nothing wrong with a little light hearted chatter amongst strangers. Why should being approached be any different in another country?

"It would be a fine choice indeed…I think this color would look absolutely magnificent on your beautiful brown skin." He complimented.

Oh wow. He was so blatant about it.

In your lifetime, you've had plenty of men approach you in public but none were this smooth about it. If you didn't know any better, you'd think that the man was flirting with you.

"Are you flirting with me?" You scoffed, unable to stop a incredulous smile from marring your face.

"No mademoiselle. That is much too harsh a term. I would simply call it the 'Art of Seduction'. You'll find I am quite well versed in it." He explained with a sly smirk, inching uncomfortably closer to you in the process.

"Um…I'm with someone actually." You nervously mutter, trying to maintain an appropriate distance from the man.

"This man…he is not here is he?"

Once more, the man moved that much closer to you, threatening your personal space to the point where it was making you uncomfortable. The intensity in his eyes already spoke volumes.

You back away until you ultimately bumped into a hard, warm surface from behind. You merely assumed that you'd bumped into a clothing rack until the stranger's gaze eventually shifted over you and it was as if you'd been forgotten. The smile on his face dropped immediately. It was strange but you thought you saw a cord of recognition in his features but you could easily be mistaken. You're not exactly an expert at reading people.

As this was happening in real time, John's inviting, comforting scent wafted into your nose and you quickly realized that he'd come to stand behind you.

Predictably, John stared directly into the man's face with a look akin to barely concealed vexation which was shocking since he rarely if ever outwardly showed his emotions. He had to have watched the other man come up to engage you from afar and it didn't take him long to insert himself into the mix. John hardly ever takes his eyes from you especially while in public spaces.

With the introduction of another individual, the setting began to feel hostile and a word had yet to be spoken between anyone. Immediately, you were worried that you might have to think of something fast. You didn't want John to have to run this man a fade right in the middle of a store.

"John." The man nodded.

"Lucian." Your lover acknowledged.

Bearing that in mind, it was established that the men did in fact know each other, at least enough to be on a first name basis.

"I did not know you were in Belgium." He straightened his coat in a minuscule movement. "Business I presume?"

"No." John calmly answered.

With that, the man who you now came to know as 'Lucian', began to make his exit, his eyes cutting to you one last time. "Well then…I will see you around John."

The man walked away, leaving you and you and John staring at his retreating back.

With the man gone, you finally felt like you could breathe again. The entire interaction was strangely charged and tense from start to finish. As much as you wanted to ask John what that was between them, you figured it was better not to. Once you both locked eyes with him, you were quickly reassured that you didn't have to worry off the strength of the look alone.

Astonishingly, your silent paramour reached over to a nearby rack of clothing and handed you a beautiful sweater you'd been eyeing since you walked in then calmly proceeded back to his waiting area.

Well, that settled that. Shrugging, you went back to the task at hand and you still had a ways to go.


After everything was said and done, the shopping trip lasted for about five hours, which was drastically cut short because it would be getting dark soon and although you didn't really feel like that much time had passed. John explained that the days in Belgium are shorter in the winter than they are during the summer months so that might explain the time jumps.

Simply put, you were hurt as hell that you had to leave Antwerp as there was still more of the town you wanted to see. If you could trace it back to one single instance, it all went downhill when you vaguely mentioned how hungry you were starting to get after failing to sustain yourself on sweet buns from a pastry shop in the shopping center. Upon John's insistence, you and him promptly boarded the train back to the prospective town of Brussels where you'd come from. In addition to carrying all the bags, he just about had to drag your whining ass onto the train. If it was consolation to yourself, you were able to find numerous goods and items that you could take back home once the trip was over. They ranged from handbags for your girls, a few articles of clothes, and even a cute little dog toy for Sweetface. The goal had been to get some good souvenirs and you'd done just that. You doubt you've put a dent in his wallet even with all you've bought.

Still, you didn't want to leave but it couldn't be helped.

In spite of the fact that nightfall was approaching, you got the sense that he'd already had something else in mind for the two of you. To your great surprise, John had revealed that he'd arranged for you and him to have dinner at a restaurant back in town.

In your stunned confusion, you'd started to ponder about his unforeseen actions and remember a specific remark you made on the train earlier while traveling to Antwerp when you stated that you had had your fair share of take out and you wanted to try something different for dinner. It's a wonder you'd gone five hours without eating but that may be attributed to you having a meal right before the train expedition. Regardless of that, five hours is still a record for you.

"It would be nice to try one of the restaurants."

The comment was made absentmindedly while you stared out the window and you didn't really put much thought into it, let alone expected it to be taken seriously. But as you'd come to find out - John was always listening, even when you thought he wasn't.

The second he revealed this, you essentially jumped onto him and kissed his face multiple times in an affectionate show of gratitude and excitement.

After a quick cat nap, something you now needed before you did anything, you woke up and began dressing for the long-awaited occasion.

Despite everything, you can't ignore how nice your ass sits in the dress - it wasn't too revealing but it definitely showed off your assets and curves in a way that was attention grabbing. It was a good thing you were wearing it while on vacation, your father would probably have a stroke if he saw you wearing something so risque. Other than having to adjust the dress around your breasts a few times to avoid uncomfortability, it was comfortable enough. Maybe if you're fortunate enough, the dress will have John nailing you to the cross later on.

Choosing to go out for a night on the town in a sexy dress during the winter months was risky business but it wasn't like you hadn't done it before. You'll just make sure to remain wrapped up in an overcoat when you finally step out to brave the outside winds.

Admittedly, European culture didn't appear that much different than American culture in some aspects. You marveled at the beauty of the town at night and you'll never get over the sight - it's even more breathtaking than it is during the day.

As it turns out, Belgium didn't only possess architectural delights but a multitude of viable experiences for those who choose to venture into its borders. The trendy bars and nightclubs were alight with assorted colors and reverberating music that could be heard from sidewalks and streets outside. Truthfully, it made you want to go clubbing. It had been a while since you'd been and you're instantly reminded of the time John made it his business to pull up on you after you snuck out. Now you're left wondering if he'd allow you to visit one of them if the opportunity arose. He already had that 'ask and you shall receive' mentality that you'd come to learn and love. You were itching to get back into the streets with your friends for a girls night out too. He'd probably allow it under his supervision since he doesn't exactly strike you as the clubbing type. It would certainly make for a memorable night between the two of you.

You and John arrive at the supposed restaurant after a short walking distance through the town which was a huge relief to you since the shoes you picked weren't exactly accommodating for a long walk. The place was quiet and reserved with only a handful of patrons present. Stylish artwork hung on the walls of the establishment. The sense of refinement was evident going by the warm environment alone. Already you deemed the outing to be a special one. Truth be told, you can't exactly make out if the place was a boujie restaurant type or not but honestly you didn't care if it was or wasn't. Not that you minded, you were just happy to be brought into a restaurant at all.

Between seasonal depression, no school, and the desperate need to find something to occupy your time, enjoying a night on the town could possibly be what you needed. And this was the real date you've been wanting from John. You would finally enjoy a nice candlelit dinner that any couple would love to dine in.

Upon entering the establishment, the waitress wasted no time greeting you and John before immediately seating you both at a table. Once settled, she then handed you both beautifully lamented menus. The minute you lay eyes on it, you realized how confused you are when you can't even make out the prices next to the listed food items. The equivalent of Euros to U.S dollars was completely lost on you. Though that confusion couldn't put a damper on your enjoyment.

It appeared to be such a relaxed, intimate atmosphere for two people.

Augmented by the fact that you were having the hardest time understanding most of the words on the menu which was entirely printed in French. Looking at the menu itself, you can't really tell the appetizers from the deserts.

You start typing at your phone inconspicuously from under the table. Whatever you don't understand, Google Translate would give you all the clarity you needed.

"Is something wrong?" John asked, eyes still planted squarely on the menu.

"Um…I can't read the menu." You embarrassingly retort. "Do they have any menus in English?"

"It's unlikely."

Deflating you sighed in veiled frustration. "Does everyone in Belgium speak French?" You curiously enquired.

"There is no official language. French is merely one of three."

"Oh."

"What do you need help understanding?"

"All of it I guess." You shrugged.

According to the extensive menu, the restaurant serves three courses per meal. You were fully aware that some food was universal but you would've never thought that hamburgers and spaghetti would be signature dishes in a place like Belgium. Hell, you would take those over some spicy pigeon breast. In addition to that, you don't think scallops would sit well in your stomach. You never were that fond of seafood and weren't feeling so adventurous food wise but you think you can get John to order the Lobster Bisque and let you taste a portion.

"Can you tell me what this means?"

"Beef Bourguignon."

Okay. Beef Bourguignon sounded nice and it looked reasonably decent as well. That you didn't mind trying.

"What's this one?"

"Flemish stew." He drawled.

Going by the menu, it just looked like a regular mouth warming stew from your point of view.

"Looks like a regular stew. What makes it so…Flemish?"

"The dish is simmered in Belgium beer until rich. It's meant to warm the body especially on cold nights such as this."

A stew made with alcohol? That was fascinating.

"Okay. I think I want to try that." You responded.

You don't consider yourself to be a picky eater but you like what you like. You can't stand the thought of having things you don't like on your dinner plate. Because then the entire meal will go in the trash like nasty food on a folded up paper plate from someone's house. But you don't think you'll have that problem with the food you're being served tonight.

Once the meals are chosen, they're given to the waitress to be prepared by the chef and you're nearly bouncing on the seat with excitement.

It's always exciting to try new foods and the culinary offerings are just as rousing. Anyone can learn a lot about a culture through food. Food often tastes different in other countries and around the world as a whole.

Nearly all of three of the courses that came out were made up decoratively and that virtually made it appear more appetizing. Especially since they were considered specialty dishes with their own authentic flavors.

The first course you'd chosen was Ratatouille for obvious reasons. Who hadn't seen the Disney movie that featured a rat who cooks and wants to be a chef? It was one of your guilty pleasure movies even as an adult.

"Mmmm…it's good." You say, moaning in contentment.

You took your time consuming each of the meals, wanting to actually savor them as opposed to wolfing them down like you hadn't eaten in three days. Your metabolism had yet to slow down so you were used to eating as if you were trying to secure a spot on 'My 600 Pound Life'.

Additionally, the stew is served with vegetables, potatoes, and onions. Visually, it's a culinary delight. There's a mix of sweet and sour you don't think you've tasted before. Oddly, with the stew you didn't taste any residual beer from the dish but what were you expecting. The flavor of beer shouldn't overtake the dish as it would defeat the purpose.

Just as you're in the middle of scarfing down the delicious stew, the waitress brings over a tall bottle of champagne. "A token of appreciation from the owner."

Along with the bottle of champagne, she'd brought over a single bottle of bourbon.

She carefully places both bottles on the table and the sight of the effervescent drinks sends a range of emotions through you. You watched as the waitress popped the cork out with minimal blowback and poured you and John a glass before excusing herself politely. The amber liquid swirled invitingly in the glass.

You can't lie that you weren't the slightest bit apprehensive about breaking your little self-imposed fast from liquor. You were so into cutting back on drinking that you'd forgotten the last time you had one. While you fully acknowledged that you didn't have to drink any, it couldn't hurt to indulge in a little drinking. Plus it wasn't like you'd be drinking heavily.

The last time you smelled champagne it turned your stomach something fierce

To you, bourbon was more like a man's drink so you assumed it might be a bit too heavy for you to try.

After watching the waitress fill the glass with the bubbly liquid, you took small sips of the beverage despite being on a self-imposed cut back. The taste of the amber liquid was crisp and sweeter than you expected and you believe that made it go down much easier. You're just surprised you didn't gag at the smell of it this time around.

Despite that, the drink sits warm and heavy in your belly - it was such a weird feeling.

A burp escaped your lips before you could catch it and you placed an embarrassed hand over your mouth.

John lifted a dark brow at your unintentional belching.

"Excuse me." You mutter, trying to suppress a giggle.

A goofy smile eventually made its way to your face. "You think you're slick don't you?"

"Funny. The last time I asked you to take me out. You said no." You noted.

"I did."

"Why the sudden change in heart now?"

"Perspective."

Although the answer left you more puzzled than satisfied, you simply left it at that. Best not to think about it too much.

The nice waitress, who had provided you excellent service thus far, returned with a strange expression on her features. "Pardon me, I'm sorry to interrupt but I was instructed by one of the other patrons to bring this to your table. To you specifically madam." She nervously specified.

Immediately you were thrown off by the declaration. "What? Who sent this?"

Outwardly, you could tell that she was very reluctant and embarrassed to carry out the task.

She turned and pointed to an area just behind her. "That man seated just over there."

Sure enough, the man in question was sitting over in one the far off corners, smirking a devilish smirk at you when your eyes met. He was some kind of bold to send you a drink knowing full well that you were there with another man. Him specifically choosing to send you a drink was an indicator that he was showing interest in you and he wanted you to know.

Oddly enough, you'd heard that oftentimes men from other countries were known to be very bold in their pursuit of women so this really doesn't come as a shock to you. Maybe it was something in the drinking water you weren't exactly sure. The entire situation was beyond awkward and you almost had no idea how to proceed or even what to say. Through it all, John's expression didn't change in the slightest and that scared you more than anything. That along with him being one of those people that was difficult to predict what they might be thinking.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat as you forced a smile to the anxious waitress. "It's a nice gesture but I don't want it. Can you send it back?" You politely suggested.

"Oh um…that's the thing madam. He insisted that not bring it back to his table or he'd have a word with my supervisor about my service."

Wow. What a dick move on the guy's part. Why would he want to put a woman's job at stake over something so trivial?

Wordlessly, John rose from his seat, surprising both you and the frazzled waitress. His hand reached out and wrapped calmly around the glass, picking it up from the table.

You held your breath. This could go one of two ways. A line had already been crossed.

With no regard for entering the man's personal space, John gently placed the cup onto the surface of the man's table.

The man leaned back in his chair, that same mocking smile still marring his smug features as he uttered something indecipherable to your lover.

The stranger maintained a mostly smug and disdainful look as he stared up into your lover's face. He probably didn't expect your lover to approach him so calmly should any confrontation result from his actions. But what he didn't know was that John approached every situation with a calm, unflappable demeanor apparently even when warding off advances from other men.

From where you were sitting and the angle John was standing, you could make out everything, namely John's features. Warily, you watched the men interact with one another. From an outside perspective, nothing seemed amiss until you noticed that something about the situation had immediately shifted. The man had looked so confident and in control one minute and then the next he didn't.

The smile on the man's face suddenly dropped and his complexion turned ashen. Never had you seen a person's expression shift from untouchable confidence to pure unadulterated fear at the drop of a dime.

Obviously something had to have been said to him but what?

John running off a man was unquestionably childish but also quite endearing. Truthfully, it was highly indicative of a man who handled business and it's the type of thing that makes you weak in the knees about him to the point where you couldn't stand up. For as long as you've known him, John had always been a quiet man, just what the hell could he have said to another man to make him leave a restaurant so fearfully. As much as you wanted to ask, you know for a fact that he wouldn't divulge what was said even if you begged him a million times.

John merely returned and retook his seat like nothing happened - like a grown man hadn't just completely vacated the restaurant altogether because of him. This combined with the other incident earlier may have him feeling some type of way.

Initially, you weren't going to ask but the urge was just too strong to ignore - you had to know. "John…what did you say to that man to make him run out like that?"

"That is of no consequence." His deep, monotonous voice remarked.

"I still want to know. Did you threaten him?"

The prolonged thereafter was a definite indicator that you were right in some capacity. This man of yours boldly went over to another man's table and threatened him because he sent a drink over to you. Still you feel oddly comforted that he cared that much. He could've done much worse to the man for his transgressions and you knew that for certain. Men often saw things like that as disrespect and John was well within his rights to check him for it.

What he'd done was honorable but also very jealous and you smiled softly at that fact.

In spite of all this, a mischievous thought suddenly occurred to you and a teasing smile spread across your lips. "Did he make you feel jealous?"

Narrowed brown eyes immediately intensify in their inspection of your face. You know that you're playing a dangerous game but you couldn't pass up the opportunity.

"Funny, I seem to recall a certain someone telling me that jealousy doesn't suit me." You teased. "And it doesn't really suit you either."

Despite his unemotional countenance, you learned that it took nothing for John to be easily riled. He may not show it outwardly but on the inside it would prove to be a different story altogether. He may hide it well but John definitely had a temper underneath all that poise and calm. All it took was the slightest provocation and he was ready to take it there. No matter what he always had to get his lick back in some way. As a matter of fact, you think his temper might be worse than yours. Considering what he could've done to the man - John had actually taken the high road instead. In other words, the man had actually gotten off easy.

"Now that I think about it, you and my dad kind of act alike." You humorously commented.

Both of John's brows lifted a fraction and he regarded you more intently in a look that could convey some confusion.

"You're both more than willing to chase other men away if they show the slightest interest in me. That's what dads do. I've seen it all my life. You act just like a possessive, protective daddy trying to ward off any flirtatious attempts from other men."

John made no comment. In fact, he didn't try to deny your observation at all.

"You know that I'd never let another man steal me away." You expressed.

"I know. And I will never allow a man to think he can steal you away. I am yours and you are mine." He confessed.

There was something about the last word of that statement that solidified what you knew all along. It was the clearest declaration of possession you've ever heard from him and it ignited the burning embers in your loins.

A part of you was still reeling from the entire experience, you just couldn't believe this was actually taking place. Like a true crybaby, you find yourself getting a little emotional about it and you feel the overwhelming urge to cry. Truthfully, you weren't sure if it was the sudden overflow of emotions or the champagne that had you in your feelings.

This was quite literally the happiest you felt in a long time and you're practically overwhelmed with so much emotion. You love him so much. What did you do to deserve him? He's all you've ever wanted in a romantic partner that you didn't expect to find until you were damn near in your thirties. You never had a man go above and beyond your expectations with keeping your best interests at heart. John was your life partner, you were absolutely sure of it.

Predictably, he'd caught sight of your pinched face and watering eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just…I never thought this would happen. I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do something like this with you. Technically, this isn't our first date but it still means so much to me."

"For a minute I was afraid that you didn't want to be seen out in public with me but I understood the reasoning behind it. Sometimes I tend to…forget who and what you are. I know it's hard for you to do normal things sometimes."

You wiped at a stray tear that got loose. "I'm sorry, I'm just really happy. I'm happy that someone would think to do all this for me. You literally brought me to another country for a vacation when I've barely even left New York."

"I don't know what I did to deserve all this."

"You deserve this and more. Never think of yourself as undeserving." He said mildly.

"Thank you…for everything. You make me so happy all the time and I feel bad because I don't know how to repay you. I don't know how to make you happy like you make me."

He peered into your misty eyes deeply, studying you abstrusely for a long moment.

"I would not ask for any recompense on your part, merely accept all I have to give. I require nothing more than that."

Wiping the rest of the tears away, you smiled to yourself. You could do that for him. You would do anything for you.


Towards the end of dinner, you confidently concluded that all three of the meals were splendid. For dessert, you indulged yourself with some delicious chocolate sponge cake and a savory crepe, since it felt too much like a crime to go too long with any were so good you take you no time at all to eat most of it. And afterwards you were even tempted to ask for seconds.

Everything tasted great and you washed most of it down with bubbly, your glass of lemon water forgotten. Nearly both bottles of champagne the waitress had brought to the table had been downed and you were feeling a little more than tipsy by normal standards. You'd begun to feel tipsy after you drank the first few glasses. By the fifth glass, that little buzz had transformed into a full on state of intoxication borderlining a thin line between a drunken stupor.

After some time, it became a struggle for you to sit still or hold your head up correctly. You can't even think as clear as you want to. You're entirely too hot and that's how you know you're drunk.

By this point, all conversation was minimal and you and your lover are both moderately drunk and staring at each other from across the table. You're fully aware that any form of alcohol never fails to get you hot under the collar and now you desperately want him to nail you to the cross.

Most concerning of all, John began openly leering at you. It was a look he'd given you plenty of times before but this one was different. The look was more pointed, more intense. Peering directly into your eyes, your ruggedly handsome lover made his desire for you glaringly transparent. From there, it became obvious what direction the night was headed.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Honestly, you don't know what happened. You both had gone from eye fucking each other from across the table with a fair amount of liquor in your systems to where you currently were. At the time, a little lustful staring seemed to be the extent of how far your desire would go.

Wishful thinking.

After excusing yourself and stumbling towards the women's bathroom, you were surprised to turn and find that your stone-faced lover had followed you, looking very much like he wanted to devour you on the spot.

Only now that lust had unfurled into something uncontrollable to the extent where it had to be taken into the bathroom of these people's establishment. The waitress had to be puzzled at you and your lover's sudden disappearance from the table. You and him were by no means dine and dashers and you didn't want her to think that.

A disoriented glance into the mirror revealed the way John's narrowed eyes headedly raked over your flustered frame. You're pressed against the edge of the surface of the cold sink, your back angled inches away from his chest. Your dress is shoved up over your midsection, panties pulled to the side. There was a stifling amount of heat between your bodies as he entwined his body with yours. You have to press a hand to the mirror to steady yourself and not lose your already unstable balance. Your vision is an uncoordinated mess and you couldn't really tell what you were seeing in real time compared to thirty seconds prior.

Most telling of all - John did not speak. In fact, he hadn't spoken a single word throughout the whole ordeal.

Although you had sex with him while intoxicated before you don't think it's ever been this intense. By this point, you're both completely out of it. Affected by the liquor coursing hotly throughout your systems. You don't have the mental capacity to focus on your undulating reflections in the mirror for long. At this stage, you can't even feel your face anymore. That's how drunk you were. A damn shame if there ever was one.

One of his hands came up to cup your breast, pinching the protruding nipple until it became erect. The sensation jolts your body and you mewl. The brown buds are still irritatingly sensitive when they want to be and it's now out of your control. The tugging made your face scrunched in agonizing bliss.

In a blissful haze, you wonder if the bathroom door is locked. Even while drunk you can't help but express fear at the thought of someone walking in and seeing you in this state.

John buried his face into the soft juncture of your neck and you cried out when his teeth sank into the delicate skin of the area. His tongue against your stuttering pulse. The slight pain was unexpected but not unwelcome.

In a completely unexpected move, John hastily pulls himself from your depths, leaving you convulsing and clenching around nothing. Gripping the sink, you're left panting wildly and shaking from the sheer strain of having to hold yourself up without any support. The empty feeling was mildly discomforting.

Once you're able to regain some semblance of your composure, your dress is yanked back down over your ass. A strong hold was around your wrist and the next thing you realized was that you're being led out of the bathroom and back through the restaurant.


In what seemed to be in the blink of an eye, you both are back at the cabin in what you perceive to be a messy blur. Strong hands essentially manhandled you into the place where he wanted you.

Clearly, you both were too horny to make it to the bedroom so the couch would have to suffice in its place. Luckily, the arm of the couch was soft and thick enough to keep you stationary.

John's warm, heavy hands are roaming all over you, kneading your soft, supple curves. For the second time, your skimpy dress pushed up over your naked midsection, exposing the most intimate asset of your body.

Kneeing, your silent lover gently parted your inner thighs for a better view with little to no hesitation in his actions and it was during all of this that you realized what his intentions were. It wouldn't be the first time you've let him bend you over and eat your ass so you should have no problem with him doing it again.

Suddenly, even while in your heavily inebriated state, you feel the peculiar urge to giggle - what was with him and his obsession with your ass?

The act of anilingus wasn't something you were that versed in since you'd only do it once before courtesy of John. It was one of the dirtier acts you're explored with him. Oral stimulation of your anus felt only slightly different from vaginal stimulation and you didn't exactly know how to explain it.

He licked around the area of the hole first, kissing the soft globes it was hidden between. Warm breaths of air started to fan over your hole and you just about lost it when John's broad, flat tongue gave the entrance a satisfying, wet lick. He circled the moist opening once more before ultimately delving his tongue inside. Very gently, the man was using his mouth to make love to your soft pucker. Coating your girly parts with a generous amount of his saliva over the areas with that agile mouth.

Rather abruptly, two nimble fingers slid smoothly into your pussy while heated arousal secreted out of you. He went straight for your g-spot. Utilizing a come hither motion with his index finger he curled it against that wall of nerves, applying generous pressure needed in that one spot that had you keening. Through shallow penetration he was maximizing the pleasure until it started to stack on itself.

The contract killer alternated between your cunt, perineum, and your puckered opening, using both his hands and mouth to provide stimulus to the tight inner nerve endings of your sex. You rewarded him with mewls of appreciation.

Aside from him teasing the area with a single finger the previous night, it had been a while since you took anything up there. You may end up regretting it later but you still find yourself feeling very eager of what was to come next.

Practically breathless with anticipation, you didn't realize you were so immersed in your thoughts until you noticed that he was following a familiar ritual. A ritual that consisted of him preparing you for impending penetration.

From your muddled understanding the excessive salivation was supposed to serve as sufficient lubricant for penetration. Given that you're way too drunk to show how concerned you are about possibly not doing this without any lube. Naturally, you feared any sort of damage to your inner walls not just anally but vaginally as well. Nevertheless, you were too out of it to deny him any part of you. Even without the alcohol involved, you were aware that this was something he often craved.

Once he felt like you had enough 'preparation', the man promptly moved into position to mount you.

As expected, your body started to bear down on the intrusion, creating some resistance. You jerked at the stinging breech and promptly tensed up against the burning intrusion. The pain and discomfort sending a sharp jolt through your frame. Releasing labored breaths, you tried to adjust as best as you could manage, knees buckling from underneath you from the strain. Just as you remember, his rigid, pulsing muscle was heavy and warm inside. Essentially, the alcohol did its part in dulling the pain for the most part but there was only so much it could do.

No matter how eager he may be, John knew he still had to carefully work himself into the tiny rosebud opening that was your anus. No matter how many times he and you engage in anal sex, you know it'll still take some time for you to get used to it.

As anticipated, with perhaps a minuscule of patience at his disposal, John wasted no time giving you vicious slams of dick with ruthless precision - his initial steady pace slowly becoming even more grueling and ruthless by the minute. Granted, he was not retaining himself like he usually would. You've never experienced him in this capacity, obviously intoxicated to the point where his better judgment was completely skewered and his iron-clad self-control was no longer present. Even during the raunchiest of sex, he always maintained some level of control and it never once ventured into violent territory.

Currently, your lover was stripped of all his controlled inhibitions.

Digging your nails into the couch, you sobbed headily in the midst of John shoving his stiffened manhood inside of your snug orifice with feverish urgency. Clearly, he was driven by the fluctuating pressure of your taunt entrance, no doubt watching your round globes sensually bouncing against his swiveling waist.

Blood was rushing loudly in your ears and all you can truly make out is the reverberating messy meeting of your genitals and your own delirious moans.

Amidst a frantic series of impassioned moans and gasps, your oxygen deprived lungs desperately needed a reprieve from the pleasurable assault on your person. Not to mention, your sensitive clitoris was rubbing along the firm surface of the couch with each forceful thrust, creating a delicious friction that felt uncomfortably good.

The tears began to flow like rivets from your tightly clenched eyes and you couldn't stop them even if you tried. The very concept of a man making you cry was during sex was literally insane but this is the life you live now. Through it all, you remembered that he was doing all of this with addled senses while you were drunk, vulnerable, and fully exposed to his eyes to be used however he saw fit.

While it wasn't that often that the hired gun decided to engage in rough sexually proclivities with you - you strongly suspected that alcohol consumption played a major role in his decision-making process. Notwithstanding the fact that, he could also be a different person during sex completely sober.

John's reserved demeanor cultivated the image of someone who could never be capable of such deviant, almost sexual violent acts but you know different. You admired his versatility in those aspects. In fact, you'd seen him in many different intimate contexts. After all this time, you were still shocked and enamored by the discovery.

You briefly recalled the one incident where he'd 'punished' you and you'd gotten the first small taste of how rough he could be during sex if he truly wanted to. He'd repeatedly seated himself directly in the pit of your rolling stomach, admonishing you for disobeying his wishes. It was one of the most gratifying experiences you could ever recall. Much like that instance, this style of sex was incredibly aggressive in nature and you found yourself shaking uncontrollably at the mere thought.

He handled your asshole as if it wasn't a part of your body, as if he belonged to him. At the moment, every part of you may very well belong to him

Your stomach tightened unbearably as the tightly coiled spring in your stomach began to unravel.

"John…" You pleaded helplessly.

With no strength left in your upper half, your face slowly began to drop into the couch cushions in a moment of complete surrender and weakness. The lack of strength was resulting in fatigue and the inability to hold yourself up any further. Not long after, the feeling of fingers threading into the braids at your nape soon became apparent as a firm grip was then secured resulting in your head being wretched back. The unyielding hold at your nape keeps you right in place. As much as you need to, you don't have the mindset to pray to the lord above that he won't pull your braids out from the root.

In a move you weren't expecting, John raised your hips until your painted toes were no longer touching the floor, angling his hips to thrust down into you. His hands acted like anchors, preventing any and all unwanted movement so you couldn't run from the punishing thrusts.

You whimpered out of oversensitivity, voice strained and raw. Similarly, your desperate cries didn't have any affect on John whatsoever as the man didn't slow nor pause his stroke in the midst of his continued battering of your backside.

There isn't a single coherent thought your mind can convey at this juncture. You feel overwhelmed with every pleasurable sensation imaginable - your head was swimming amidst a sea of rapture that threatened to pull you under its depths.

The rough coupling kept you physically and mentally subdued, each breath of air you sucked in being expelled back out with each forceful lunge. If he wanted your submission - he surely had it now.

Soon, you're drooling into the couch, unable to make another sound but incapable of keeping your lips closed. The brisk pounding had basically sapped all the energy from you.

You started to claw at the couch pitifully, using what little strength you possessed to try and escape the hard passionate shoves of dick that had you seeing stars behind your closed eyelids.

John remained unperturbed by the squirming attempts to get away, continuing forcefully driving that hardened erection into you until your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Once again you're quickly reminded of how his stamina was not meant to be played with. John kept up the hard fucking until your neglected, untouched core was throbbing.

"...daddy." You whimpered weakly.

The word slipped from your lips unintentionally. You hadn't meant to say it, it just came out and now you didn't know where to go from here. John had to have heard it - there wasn't any way he couldn't that you've never called him anything other than his name, it had to stem directly from your earlier claims and teasing, comparing him to an overprotective father.

You never thought you'd get to this point - a point where a man has you so irrational that you're calling him daddy while he strokes you out.

The resulting effect was instantaneous - your hair was immediately let go of, taking the pressure off your bent back. John switched tactics by taking hold of your hips and essentially rocking you into a euphoria laced delirium. The heated girth absolutely wreaked havoc in your lower abdomen with a vigor that was almost disturbing.

You cum with a distressed squeal - the orgasm ascending you to the highest plane of a nirvana you hadn't thought possible.

You felt engulfed in an erotic trance where you were hardly conscious of your surroundings anymore. Everything around you had fallen to the background in favor of your lover's pleasurable onslaught on your body. The flood of endorphins into your brain clouded your senses.

From there a seemingly never-ending cycle was formed - one where mind-numbing orgasms were induced and where he didn't cease until you were pulled into the next. Each one was even more devastating than the last. For him to keep going, you think he might be titillated with the idea of you being overwhelmed with debilitating pleasure. And as of now, you were powerless and completely at his mercy to do as he pleased. Each time you reached completion, the thrusts got harder.

You can't even get a fucking word out anymore. Instead it sits trapped on the tip of your tongue with no hope of ever being heard. You didn't think it would have this much of an effect on him.

Why? Why were you just letting this man use you like this? What was the reason?

While it was one thing to do it while you were impaired but it was an entirely different thing to have both yourself and him impaired. That's probably why he was beating your back out until your legs were starting to go numb. The brutality of it all unnerved you. It was a pleasure like you've never known before. You're much too dazed and confused by the term of events to do anything besides lay there and take it.

It entailed a trace amount of sadistic tendencies - something you always knew lay dormant in some deep hidden part of him. Since the start of the unorthodox relationship, you'd always suspected that he had a different side of him but finally seeing it on display didn't make it any less jarring. For whatever reason, the hitman chose not to reveal it to you. Possibly out of concern of reproach. Hypothetical reproach you found both valid and completely ridiculous. He shouldn't have to hide any part of himself from you.

Considering how sexually open and comfortable you are with one another, you're not opposed to experimenting with him from time to time, testing each other's limits.

By now, your arms had become far too weak to hold yourself up any longer and you ended up collapsing in a heap. Your situation isn't lost on you - you're being used as a fucktoy. Getting your pussy pounded to pieces with his hard prominence of girth until it was becoming too much for you to handle. Your body simply couldn't take any more of the savage pounding he was subjecting you to.

In a last resort, you attempted to reach back for him, searching for some form of leniency by pressing on his stomach. He answered the wordless reprieve by swiftly securing both arms across your back. He would not hear any pleas for leniency, they did nothing in terms of actually getting through to him.

From there you had to come to terms with what was happening - John was a man establishing dominance over his most prized possession by fucking you within an inch of your life. In retrospect, this was what you'd wanted - to experience him in that unrestricted, untamed manner he kept expressly hidden. The loss of composure was doing things to you that you hadn't thought possible. Those veiled desires no one, not even you were privy to.

While you can't outright say that he's completely disregarded your needs all together, evidently your needs were not the first priority. His usual consideration for you wasn't present. This time measured control would take a backseat to salacious hunger. Tonight you were the object of his affection but you would also become the outlet for his innermost darkest, unconstrained desires. But you're doing exactly what he wanted - accepting all he had to give.

Obviously, you expected him to stop at some point but you were doubtful about exactly when that time would come. Seeing as he had yet to cum, there wasn't any telling how long he would torture you with unrelenting ecstasy.


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