Wanted For Pleasure

Chapter Twenty-seven: the deep end

"One of the basic human rights he takes away from you is the right to be angry with him. No matter how badly he treats you, he believes that your voice shouldn't rise and your blood shouldn't boil. The privilege of rage is reserved for him alone."

Morgan Ann Bennett

"Wake up!" I jumped on top of a sleeping Chris.

It was almost noon, we slept in far too late, but hey, no complaints here!

I was bursting full of energy and couldn't wait to spend another day relaxing and playing house with Chris basically.

I never thought growing up, that I'd have a day like this with any man. Seeing Callie go through everything with x amount of guys, I thought romance was bullshit. Kyle, my ex, didn't really set the bar high either. Actually, the bar was in hell. So the fact that Chris came along and it's nothing but laughs and intense episodes of passion, I just feel full.

Mary and Carter made a delicious grilled chicken dinner with avocado salsa last night. It was my first time trying and definitely not the last.
Their company was well welcomed, well, after they barged in, I mean. Anyone could see how much they loved their son, it almost seemed like that's what bonds them. I sat back, not speaking for a change, just watching them get along and be in their own bubble. I didn't feel excluded either, I felt, for some reason, I sense of pride and warmth. I hope Chris knows how loved he is and that he'll be that good of a parent whenever it's his time.

I got to shower, brush my teeth, and clean up our mess in the living room from last night all before Chris woke up.

I think I'm going to name Chris's dick. It needs a name, and an award! I want to worship it. If we ever end — whatever this is— I'll like to make a mold of it, my own custom dildo.

Of course I know we can't stay in this oasis much longer, but it felt nice. I don't want to go back to sneaking around, so we had to enjoy this while we could.

For the day, I just had on a cropped baseball tee with pink sleeves, and Margo Fray Hem denim (Daisy duke style) shorts. My hair was getting frizzy now three days after my blow-out, that's fine. I put it in a claw clip and called it a day.

"Chris, come on," I whined at his feet.

He's so big, when went around the bed and tried pulling him, he took his arm back and I fell to the floor with a 'thud!'

Oof.

I literally shook it off and got back up off of the dark, hardwood floor.

Chris cracked an eye open and started to laugh at me in his pillow.

"At least you're up," I joined in the laughter.

"Why do you have so much energy? It's only..." he tried to say, voice husky. I love his voice, one of many qualities that made him so damn attractive - irresistible.

"Noon, now please get up, we have a whole lot of nothing to do today!"

"You don't have any plans?" He asked. His abs ripples as he sat up, briefs low on his waist.

"Nope, none," I said, vibrating my lips.

I sat in his office chair in that private — well not so private because it's surrounded by glass windows— nook off of his bedroom with the view of the city.

His designs, blueprints, sketches — whatever you call them— were really great. I admired his work a second longer before seeing Chris at his drawer, putting his phone on the charger.