Fuchsia Is The Color Of Love

Chapter 13

Hany stayed true to her word. She allowed him to make love to her whenever the need arose. Though she was not truly complaining when they made love. The man was, quite simply, insatiable. He never truly seemed to grow tired and the days bled into the next with a slow precision that constantly eluded them both. Hany found herself getting more than used to his embrace. She found herself accepting his kisses and melting into his arms much more than she should. Though she would never admit she found herself enjoying his presence. They made fervent, wild, love in nearly every room of the cabin. He had brought her to explosive orgasm with skill and words of romanticism and affection on every surface, including on the grassy banks by the lake. And while they had rolled around in the open, stripped naked and gyrating against each other Hany had, for the first time, been glad that the nearest village was miles away.

The thought brought back a flash of arousal that made her warm all over. She wiped her hands on her skirt before leaving the space of the kitchen. She moved through the cabin, searching for Andrew.

"Andrew?" She said. Silence greeted her back and she headed for the back door. He was sitting with his legs stretched out by the lake. His hair blowing comfortably in the wind, whipping around his handsome tanned face. She sighed before walking toward him. She stood beside him, staring off into the lake.

Andrew's voice suddenly broke the silence. "Have a seat." He grabbed for her hand, gently pulling her down beside him.

"I wanted to be different, you know." He said quietly. 

She looked over at him, tilting her head to the side with confusion. "You wanted to be...different? What on earth are you on about?"

He slipped his hand to the back of her head, his fingers playing in her mass of thick curls. He played with her hair for a moment before yanking her toward him. She groaned at having her hair pulled but did not protest as he kissed her lips with a rough possessiveness that she was beginning to enjoy. "I'm not sure I really want to tell you about me. I'm boring you know?" He murmured against her lips.

She stared up at him, recognition finally washing over her features. "We had a deal. Besides, you can't be any better or worse than in your own head than you are here, now."

He chuckled before pecking her lips once more. He pulled back and ran a hand through his hair. "I wanted to somehow stand out. My family, though I'm sure you already know, is very much in the lime light. There's no escaping it. Having a family that completely ignores social norms is a big thing."

"Social norms?" Hany asked. She was a working class woman, social hierarchy within the ton was the last of her concerns. The stuffiness of the rich, wealthy, and famous did not matter to anyone outside of that sphere. 

He looked at her with a small smile. "You've met my father haven't you?"

She shook her head, "I have greeted him, I do believe." He chuckled at her answer before leaning over and kissing her cheek. He was conscious of the constant affection he was lavishing on her and yet he couldn't stop. 

"My father is an American. He fell in love with my mother in the most...unconventional way."

"Unconventional...how?" She asked.

Andrew cleared his throat, a blush spreading to his cheeks. "He...kind of...kidnapped her."

Hany's eyes widened and she frowned, she reached out and smacked his arm, "Good, God is this a family tradition? Kidnapping women?"

Andrew laughed, "Long story short, My father fell in love a lot quicker than he cared to admit to her. He loved her when the world around him, the place he had always called his home, was completely against his feelings. He lost his best friend because of that love."