You stare at the billowing displays of white and shimmering pearls over the circular stools that face a full-length mirror. The day had come where you were to choose a dress and flaunt it on your wedding day. You wore a sleeveless fitted mermaid gown with white silk, intricate lace details, and a sweetheart neckline. You could have sworn anything would be beautiful and glorious, but the day of your dress picking hadn't made you smile genuinely.
The botique worker tied zipped the dress up, your sister right there beside you. She smiled at you half-heartedly, the realization that she was up next almost had her in tears. "You'll finally leave the house, but we can't guarantee that you'll be happy. Eonnie, why are we allowing father and mother to control us like this?" She asked you gently, her whispers almost inaudible.
You stared at your tearful eyes in the mirror, not knowing how to respond. "Be happy for me, alright? You musn't think about my happiness, I can handle it. I'll find a way to diminish this cycle, alright? You deserve to marry the one you love." You held her hand, and she leaned her cheek on your shoulder. She cried softly, you told the worker to leave you for a short while.
As much as you reassured her that you'll be fine, you couldn't erase the horrid memories of your engagement with Chittaphon. Not a single memory was wonderful. You arrived at the house you were supposed to be gleefuly living with your lover in, but the moment you entered, you smelled the pumpkin pie and lavender, how rare. You removed your coat and walked straight towards your room with vigorous steps, the pleasant noise of your heels clicking on the marble floor turned someone's frown into a sardonic, lopsided smirk.
You turned on your heels, your ambitions of reaching your room without nuisance went futile as the burning grip if calloused fingers around your wrist pulled you into another master's bedroom, and the smell of satiating liquor and paint scattered under your nostrils. Your eyes faced dark ones, elongated, sensual, poised ones. His lips hovered over yours, so sweet, delicious and plump. You could kiss him if it weren't for his repugnant attitude and objectionable personality. His hand wrapped around your wrist, and his arm snaked around your waist.
Your pleasantly dismayed eyes rivaled your prevailing spiteful ones. The gorgeous Thai-Chinese was thinking, perhaps, you've had a change of heart? He's never seen your eyes remarkably opulent before, and they're always breathtaking. You pulled yourself away with great firmness, but the strong muscles of his inviting form forbid you to move. Internally, this was the most breathtaking momentum of your life with Chittaphon.
"Let go of me, you rancid vermin." You spat mercilessly, and the topless male thought again, I guess not. He smirked like he principally does whenever you were around, the intruiging sparkle of his eyes always displeasured you. He has the impertinence to find you amusing in hostile situations, and it infinitely outraged you.
"I'm charmed to know that the carrier of my future successors is feeling quite splendid." He probed in a mordant tone, as if his only wish in life was to pester you to no ends. Knowing that this isn't the cardinal occurence of his arms trapping you in, you found your physical malice useless. "Please, I'd rather get kidnapped by a mobster than propagate your children." He smiled widely, and proceeded to chuckle ever so bitterly. He was aware of your loathing the moment he saw you denounce regarding 'simpletons' opposing to child abortion.
He knew how vehement you were about everything that affected you, whether it would be spreading awareness about why people must help animals with conjunctivitis, the elimination of zoophiles, informing people about the proper steps on how to take care of abandoned newborn kittens, or other causes that focus on animals.
And that was also the day he fell in love with you, a tenacious woman who sheltered everyone that needed her, and aboveboard, he found that exceedingly sexy. Aside from the discomfort of animals, there was also one subject that you were abhorred about, and that was the image of forming a family. You abundantly undervalue birthing children of your own, and would rather invest your time in activities that are much more productive, like centralizing your efforts on animals, and nothing else. Chittaphon desired offsprings of his own, it was his notable wish, and secretly, you knew about it.
He let go of you almost adrubtly as he became enamored with you, and went to light up a reefer. You saw the incredible white of the smoke escaping his lips, the prejudicial alcohol sliding down his throat, and the sigh that left his mouth. How horrid of you to marry this man within one-hundred days. "How were the white gowns? I especially hand-picked them myself." He asked you once he was placed his wine glass down the furnished wooden table, his seductive eyes almost lulling you in. "What? No wonder they showed a lot of skin!" The volume of your voice increased, and so did his arousal.
He smirked and distressed you by pulling you down the mattress and pinning your limbs above your head, your legs unable to shut due to his knee almost in the vicinity of your dressed pussy. "Listen, kitten. It's better to obey, so I propose you abide to my laws and save my cum from inseminating your womb. "The capacity of your eyes magnified when the rough muttering in your ear turned into a sweltering, slippery muscle that smoothed the defenseless skin of your neck. Predicting your actions, Chittaphon held your clumsy fingertips in one hand and muffled your lips with the other. Now, you were completely at his mercy.
Sneering, he gently stationed his lips on top of your own ones, and suprisingly, you responded gracefully. You kissed him in return, you approved of a man to kiss your lips, hold you captive, make you feel wanted. You've always told yourself that your happiness must never be precipated by a male, but could you ever remonstrate with this? Chittaphon's beautiful lips nurturing yours as if you were a queen?
"Ah, Ten, please." His mouth trailed over the pale blushing pigment of your tranquil neck, his abnormally fuchsia puckers crowding over the sensitized rapture on your body. His eyes flickered over your gratified face, a lopsided smile encasing the gorgeous form of his lips. "You're yearning for me again, don't tell me you dislike this, [Name]." His jaw ordained downwards, accompanying his dependable limbs, his sweltering exhalation fluttered over your skin.
"Be my muse, [Name], I beg of you." He gingerly insinuated upon the thrilling appendages pressing the hem of your business shirt over the cups of your bra, the tantalizing stygian of lace and healthy breasts in one anatomy had Chittaphon's unnaturally distressed dick to twitch underneath the puny protection of his boxers. He groaned when your pretty throat whined a sound so encticing when his masterful thumbs nestled the pinnacle of your breasts.
You shuddered when he wrenched your bra cups downwards and enclosured the harmonious curvature of your bust. You mewled and bit the folded pointer finger, the male above you nibbling greedily. He removed a hand from your chest and fondled the zipper of your pencil skirt in one lining, discarded it from your legs and kissed your teat one last time. He smiled at your glowing cheeks and kissed your forehead.
He delivered himseld right in between your legs, his hands under your thighs, spreading them. He smile triumphantly, the glistening patch on your darkened underwear alluring him. Daintily, he darted his tongue over the soaked middle and brought his tongue up. Upon hearing your mewl, he encased the patch with his lips and suckled harshly. This time, you whimpers amplified, and he desperately needed to flourish your cunt with his tongue.
He tattered your underwear directly at the center, and your eyes bulged from their sockets. "Chittap-" You were about to bellyache, but he silenced you with a shortsighted hush. An unforeseen urge in you induced you to only use your mouth for moaning, and something else. He profitably discarded of your lace panty and hels your thighs captive and wide again, but his broiling, pleasureful tongue swaddled your pussy from above your rectum and up your clitoris in corpulent, divine strokes.
He ceased once he felt your flitching clit in between his tongue and sloshed the muscle around your clit. You whined and hid your face with a coverlet scrunched up, moreover and yonder ashamed that you categorically licensed this single-minded brute. A relative of your forethoughg was Chittaphon and your freedoms wouldn't be bountiful to raise a child, so why were you condoning this inauguration of love-making?
