Chapter 5

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My dad always brought beautiful flowers for mom. Especially after a lovers' quarrel, dad would find the most beautiful bouquet in town and gave it to mom. So as a child I thought flowers stopped mom from crying.

After dad passed away, mom's crying was a regular occurrence in my childhood. It was so painful to simply watch. Like the child I was, I went and collected some leaves and flowers, tied them with a twine, made a sloppy bouquet for the first time.

I kissed my mom's cheek and gave it to her. "Please, sweetheart, do not cry. You know it breaks my heart." My father always said that to mom, hugging her close when she cried. So that is exactly what I did too. That only made my mom cry harder. But then she wiped the tears off, took a deep breath, took me to zoo and bought me ice cream.

All the while saying, how happy she was that she had me.

My mom was a lot sensitive when I was growing up. She ran to dad for smallest of small things. Cried a lot, if someone looked at her the wrong way. But later? Later, she became the most hard-core, powerful business lady, I knew in my life.

I did not stop my bouquet- making though. Every Sunday, if I was at home, I would make her a bouquet to be placed in her bedroom.

The craftsmanship improved a lot. Well, no one except my mom would get my bouquet. And the thing about moms was that they would always love what you give.

As a toddler, I gave her a mud-pudding, with twigs and earthworms poking out. But my mom made a huge show of chewing and told I would be the best chef, if wanted.

I did not want to be a chef. But I cooked pretty well enough that I was always welcome in my friends' apartments as long as I made food.

I was making a bouquet, sitting on the swing in our garden.

"Are they for me, Ace?" A deep masculine voice whispered in my ears. I almost let out a squeal.

"Robbie, stop scaring me!" I chided him. He should stop jumping on me if he did not want me to die of heart attack.

"I like scaring you. So, tell me, are they for me?" He was leaning so close. Goosebumps formed all over me. I wanted to lean on him and rest the back of my head on his chest.

That was not appropriate.

Yet.

I blushed. "No, not for you. Why would I give you one?" I bit my lips to avoid giggling.

He frowned. "Who are you making the bouquet for?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I teased.

His hands took a grip on my hair. He yanked me backwards that my neck arched to look at him. He looked so angry. His eyes were stormy and his lips thinned.

He looked...so powerful.

I wanted more.

Seeing him angry made me feel something I had never felt before. Little bubbles of nervousness made way for the delicious tingling in my stomach.

The grip was not painful. It was anything but. The prickles formed below my neck. I felt ants creeping on my head.

I let out a moan.

What was I feeling?

"Who are they for?" He seethed. "I am not playing, Ace. TELL ME." There was a storm brewing in his eyes. It was mesmerising.

And I wanted more. I wanted to know what he would do if he snapped.

"My secret lover, Robert." I moaned out. His hands on my hair tightened. I gulped.

I liked it too much.

I heard his teeth grinding. He was breathing so hard.

His face came closer. And closer.

I did not know what was coming. I involuntarily closed my eyes.

He was panting near my ear.

More. Please.

"Call me Robbie." I nodded. Anything. Anything at all. Anything for him.

I waited. Waited for what? I really did not know. This felt so good.

"What are you doing to me, Ace?" I felt his forehead resting on mine. I opened my eyes. He was squeezing his eyes shut.

I felt bad now. What was I thinking? "It is for my mom, Robbie. It is Sunday. I make her bouquet." My voice was raspy. I cleared my throat. What was I thinking!

Robbie pulled up his head so fast. It was so funny I let out a giggle.

"Your mom?" He sounded like a kid. I laughed. "Yes, Robbie, my mom."

"Why, you, brat?!" Robbie ruffled my hair so hard.

I pushed his hand away. "Stop it."

I wanted to finish this bouquet. It was forming up nicely. Mom would love this one.

I felt him sitting next to me. It was comforting. I gave him a small smile. He was staring at me with an unreadable look. I blushed and looked away.

His hand now rested behind the rail of the swing.

When I leaned back and his arms brushed my shoulders, he let out a small smile.

That made me feel so much better.

I did not want to see him sad. Ever. I would not be able to bear it.

Now, standing in the hotel bathroom I was remembering this incident like a movie playing.

I could not stop thinking.

Did I push him too much?

I played with fire and I got burned.

My thighs were dripping of his cum. Was this what I wanted that day, nearly three months before?

I knew the answer. But never in my life, I would accept it.

That was not real.

This was not real.

I did not know he was in love with Janice. I would not have... I should not have... This was my fault, wasn't it?

If I hadn't...

It was only when I reached my chest, I felt another essence partially drying.

An excruciating pain rippled in my heart.

When the panic came, I could not stop it.

Was I?

Please no. I squeezed my eyes and opened them again. Please.

Had I cum?

Was I enjo...

NO. I WAS NOT!!!

I AM NOT LIKE THAT!!!

I wanted more, I got more.

Watch what you wished for!!!

My legs gave away and I fell on the cold bathroom floor.

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