CHAPTER 13
Brenda packed her bags and headed to her art room.
She gathered every picture that had Kai's face in it, then walked to the backyard. She grabbed kerosene and a lighter. Carefully, she studied each photo, smiling as a wave of relief washed over her. She could finally look at them without feeling anything.
She dropped the pictures to the ground and burned them until they turned to ashes.
"And with that comes a new start!" she said proudly.
Brenda and Christian had decided to drive instead of flying, so they could spend more time together.
Four hours before their departure, Christian dropped by with his luggage.
"Arrive before time," he said, hugging his beloved. "Let's go inside."
He gently pulled her by the arm.
He led her into the bedroom and began undressing her.
"What are you doing?" she chuckled softly.
"Nothing much… just something."
He undressed as well.
"Lay with me."
They lay on the bed—no touching, no kissing—just eye contact.
"Let's take a moment to really look at each other," he smiled.
No turning away.
Just eyes locked, deep and intentional.
After hours of driving, they finally arrived in Potomac.
They checked into a hotel before heading to Mrs. Curtis' house. She was outside tending to her flowers, while her husband sat on the porch.
"Nana!" Brenda called out as she ran to her.
Mrs. Curtis dropped her small shovel and rushed into her arms.
"Awww!" she smiled. "How are you, baby?"
"I'm okay, Nana. What about you?"
"Erm… is it just me, or am I being discriminated against?" Mr. Curtis cleared his throat, feeling left out.
"Don't hate on our girl bond!" Mrs. Curtis teased.
Brenda laughed and hugged her Papa. She placed a hand on his shoulder and raised her brows.
"I swear, every time I see you, you get more ripped and younger!" she giggled.
"And I always tell your Nana she's very lucky to have me as a husband!" he boasted.
Christian stood by the car, unnoticed—until Mrs. Curtis asked,
"Who's that man standing by the car?"
"Oh shit!" Brenda blurted out, forgetting herself in front of elders.
"Language!" Mrs. Curtis shot her a look.
Brenda walked to the car and took Christian by the hand.
"Nana, Papa… this is Christian. My boyfriend."
Christian extended his hand.
"How do you do?"
Mr. Curtis smiled wide. So did his wife.
The old couple exchanged a triumphant look—the kind that said finally without words.
Brenda helped her Nana in the garden while Christian chatted with Mr. Curtis.
"So… do you really love her?" Mr. Curtis asked.
"I do. I really do."
"Well then, we'll be expecting a wedding invitation soon!" the old man laughed.
Christian glanced at Brenda.
"I hope so. It'll take time, though. Even if she doesn't say it, I know the fear of abandonment still lingers in her."
A soft, knowing smile curled on Mr. Curtis' lips.
"When I met Miranda, she was rebellious—very rebellious. I wondered daily if I'd survive her stubbornness," he chuckled.
"She broke up with me five times a day. That's thirty-five times a week! I never thought we'd make it… but look at us now."
"You're a beautiful couple," Christian said.
They continued talking like old friends.
After dinner, Brenda told them they were staying at a nearby hotel.
"But this house is big enough for everyone," Mrs. Curtis said, disturbed.
"I know, Nana. It's just…" she glanced at Christian.
"We don't want to inconvenience you."
Mrs. Curtis eventually agreed and walked them to the car.
At the hotel, Brenda lay by the private pool in their suite, eyes closed, stretched out on a lounge chair.
Strong hands began massaging her feet.
"Christian," she smiled.
His hands traveled up her legs, to her thighs, his eyes locked on hers.
"What are you doing?" she asked with a naughty chuckle.
"Nothing."
His fingers traced patterns on her thighs. He bent to kiss them, slowly making his way up to her lips.
He pulled back, searching her face.
"You remember when you said you'd never been suspended from the ceiling?"
She nodded, confused.
He led her into the room.
Blue light bathed the space.
Near the bed, she noticed handbelts hanging from the ceiling.
Her throat tightened. She'd seen it in movies—but now, reality hit.
Christian disappeared and returned shirtless, wearing only shorts.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, kissed her, then guided her wrists upward. He clipped them together, suspending her. Only her toes touched the floor.
He adjusted the straps, then played with her nipples, his fingers exploring her abdomen in slow circles.
Brenda gasped.
"Eyes on me, baby," he commanded.
"I'm trapped," she breathed.
"Exactly," he murmured. "Just like me—trapped under your love."
He lowered his shorts and reached for a condom, sliding it on slowly, stroking himself despite already being hard.
Brenda watched, heat pooling between her legs.
He lifted her legs, wrapped them around him, and entered her in one swift motion.
She tried to arch away, but his grip held her firm.
He thrust harder, faster, his breath hot in her ear as she released muffled moans.
"Shhh," he whispered.
Her climax built fast—but he pulled out.
She stared at him, breathless and confused.
"Not yet, Icespit. Be patient."
He returned with raspberries and a black cloth.
He blindfolded her.
Then his lips met hers, raspberry sweetness filling her mouth as their tongues moved together.
He lifted her legs again.
"Be still."
One swift thrust.
She bit into his shoulder as she climaxed—long, deep, overwhelming.
Never had she felt anything like it.
Again.
And again.
"Christian… I don't think I can—"
"You will," he groaned. "You'll cum again."
"Fuck!" he cried as he emptied himself inside the condom.
They stayed there, breathing, unmoving.
Afterward, he released her and she collapsed into his arms, spent and shaking.
He carried her to the jacuzzi, helped remove her top, and eased her into the warm water.
She rested her head on his shoulder.
"Did you know this room is soundproof?" he asked.
Her eyes widened.
"You're messing with me, right?"
He wasn't.
"I tried so hard not to disturb the neighbors!" she groaned.
"I liked it," he said softly. "You sounded like I was the only one allowed to hear you."
She smiled.
Christian was hard and soft, commanding and gentle—all at once.
A man who knew what he wanted.
A man who led without demanding.
"That was Christian," written in ink.
"After this, we can watch a movie," he suggested.
"I don't think I can walk," she laughed. "My legs are still shaking."
"I did good, didn't I?" he smirked.
"You did more than good," she said. "At one point, I thought the pleasure would tear me apart."
"If we keep talking like this," he chuckled, "we'll never leave this tub."
He kissed her fingertips.