Pain And Pleasure 18+✓

Forty-four

Aside from my inevitable urge of going against everything Richard has said about my body, it's the desire to live up to Adrian's emboldening words. It makes me want to be the best version of myself and I know I've made a huge step by accepting my past and facing it head-on.

It's time to be comfortable in my own skin. For myself, and for someone who finds a beautiful sight in me. Thinking of everything, I sit cross-legged on the bed, holding the tong and olive hairspray that's about to sprinkle some magic on my after-swimming shaggy hair.

A few minutes later my makeup is on point, thanks to all the practices I've had on Sally's face during our teenage years. Standing tall in front of the bathroom mirror to appreciate my work, I jerk up my boobs, a small amount of cleavage showing through the off-shoulder neckline of a long-sleeved bodycon dress in a glittery burgundy.

Beautiful.

I'll always chant this word like a mantra because we all are. Positivity merges with confidence to draw a smile of contentment on my face. Thick and lovely, that I am. I watch my curves, plump round derrière, and ample bosoms all fixed in place by the polyester material of my above-the-knee length dress.

Good thing I didn't have lunch, so my tummy is super flat. I rumble a comic laugh, for this trick usually works when I'm about to snatch my waist in a dress or tight top. I turn right and left, gauging my rearview and sides, and I realize acceptance comes from within. As I'm feeling good inside, the effect mirrors the outside.

"May I?" Adrian's voice and a knock.

I inhale a sharp breath before muttering, "Sure," while staring at him with a smile through the mirror.

He saunters in, his eyes straight on the mirror. I see his fine reflection, suddenly creeping a tingle in my stomach. I turn around cautiously, and his eyes take me in like a fresh invigorating breath, yet I can't explain how queasy he makes me as they glint anew the more he looks at me.

"Wow," he whispers.

"What? How do I look?" I murmur, holding out my breath somehow.

I don't want to feel desperate for tonight, and much less innervated, but I think I am anxious and he can see right through me.

"Divine," Adrian says simply while marching closer. "Very divine, Arabella."

I let out a nervous smile, breathing out at last. Why does it feel like his approval is something I yearn for even if I deny deep inside to seek validation from anyone? Why do I look forward to it every time I do something unusual lately?

It's as if he holds a special reinforcement over me, and I love being under his control whether willingly or not. Is that a sign of being submissive? Because I've never felt like this before toward any other man or woman.

He's my first.

"You're not dressed yet. I thought—" I pause, my body suddenly captive of his steadfast grip. "Adrian!" I giggle when he squeezes my ass, jerking me tighter toward him.

Lips on my neck, he lazily utters, "I might as well discard this fucking dinner and keep you here for myself. Do you have to see your ex looking this exquisite?"

A smile tugs across my lips as the warmth of his hand meets the surface of my bare thighs. Not now, Adrian! Head tipped back, I grab his broad shoulders tightly for support and I look up at him.

Playfully, his gaze glides on my body, from my chest to my bottom.

"Your dress is short. I'd be very begrudging if I wasn't your date tonight," he groans, his thick voice a semblance of pure possessiveness.