🌷Ana🌷
Freddie's hips are in direct contact with mine, swaying from side to side. The music is much more relaxed now. Gentle. Romantic. My body pulses with the love I feel for my man, all consuming as it spreads through me like wildfire. I notice every detail about him as I stare up at him, noses practically touching. The green in his eyes are slightly darker this evening, no doubt brought on by the dimmed lights in this room. He shaved this morning in preparation for today's celebration and already, his five O'Clock shadow is returning. I love that his cheeks are flushed, rosey red from all the dancing he's doing. I never would've imagined Freddie being the type to dance the night away when first meeting him, but people have a great way of surprising me. I'll be honest, everything about this man surprises me.
"Anastasia..."
I bump my nose with his. "Freddie..."
"I love you so much," he informs, momentarily closing his eyes.
I smile at him, allowing this moment to wash over me fully.
"I love you so much."
He squeezes my body closer to his, and I particularly like how solid he feels. How sturdy he is.
"I need you, baby," he shares, tone desperate.
"You have me."
"Your taste. That's what I need."
I angle my face and purposely brush my lips against his. "Take it."
He hesitates.
"Freddie..."
"I'm scared," he admits.
The pad of his thumb caresses my bottom lip, teasing in its need to explore.
"What are you scared of?" I ask.
He's moments away from answering when a commotion to my right interrupts us. A guest I don't recognise is carrying on, threatening to punch one of the catering staff.
"What's going on here?" asks Freddie.
I scour the room for Sloan, happy in the knowledge she's far away from this alteration.
"This arsehole won't give me another drink."
"Maybe that isn't such a bad idea," replies Freddie, reading through this guy and his slurred words.
He's totally trashed.
"Oh, fuck off!" he thunders, attempting to snatch a drink from the tray.
In doing so, he accidentally knocks over the tray's entire load, each glass crashing to the ground in obnoxiously loud clatters.
"I think you need to leave," suggests Freddie, stepping closer.
His attention is on the young man desperately cleaning up the mess and—because of this—he misses drunk guy's attempt to punch him. I don't think. I don't rationalise. I simply step in front of Freddie, protecting him from receiving a blow to the face. I barely register it happening. I'll be honest—if feels no different to when Josh did this. I know how to switch myself off from the pain. To numb my nerve endings. The only way I know I've ben hit in the face is the dribble of blood that spills from my split lip. Freddie's face is a picture of horror as he bears witness to this, too late in stopping it.
"Ana!"
He abandons everything to help.
"Baby."
"I'm sorry. Shit—I didn't mean to hit her. She got in the way."
"Are you okay, Ana?"
I'm too stunned to respond.
"Anastasia?"
"She should've stayed back."
"You need to back off,' warns Freddie, blocking this arsehole from my view.
By now, a crowd has gathered around and although I know it's my mind playing tricks on me, I see nothing but a sea of Josh's all mocking me.
"NO!" I scream, desperate to shut him out.
Freddie is the only person I recognise, and I cling to him like he's my lifeline.
"He's here, Freddie. He's everywhere."
"Who is?"
I turn my head, unable to stomach much more of this. "Get me out of here."
Freddie wastes no time in lifting me into his arms, carrying me towards the back exit. Thankfully, no one follows us and when I'm rest assured we're alone, I completely beak down.
"H—he hit me," I cry, shocked.
We're outside, the evening sky acting as my only comfort alongside Freddie's hold.
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry," he insists.
I run my fingers though his hair and tug a little to get his attention. "Why are you sorry?"
"That punch was meant for me."
"I know it was," I say. "That's why I stepped in."
Freddie looks distraught.
"I don't regret that," I assure, slowly coming to terms with what's happened. "I'd step in front of a thousand Josh's to protect you."
Out of nowhere, Freddie—still carrying me—bursts into tears. I slowly wiggle my way out of his hold and stand directly in front of him.
"Baby, what's wrong?"
He rests his forehead against mine. "I've spent my whole life being a punching bag for other people."
I wrap my arms around his back, needing to absorb some of his pain.
"No one has ever stepped in before."
I pull him closer to me and kiss his cheek, needing him to know I'd do it all again if I had the chance. Protecting Freddie is second nature to me now. He deserves nothing less.
"Thank you for coming to me first," I say.
"Where else would I go?"
I shrug. "You could've beat the shit out of that guy for hitting me."
He nods. "I could've."
"I'm glad you didn't."
He cups my cheeks, angling my face so that I have no choice but to look at him. "I'll never be violent for as long as I live."
My eyes immediately fill with moisture.
"I promise."
"Thank you," I whisper, bringing his body towards mine. As I do this, I look over his shoulder and notice the Eiffel Tower glistening in the background.
"Babe, look!"
He turns his attention towards where I'm looking and smiles. I watch him for a moment, triggered beyond belief by tonight's actions. But despite it all, I find comfort in the flutter of his eyelashes. In the sniff of his cries. The tremble of his hands. Moments ago, I was living my worst nightmare. Now, I'm looking at my dream man.
"Freddie?"
He says nothing as I bring his hand up to rest against my frantically beating heart. It's almost ripping out of my chest at the sheer speed in which it's pumping.
"I'm scared too."
The second I say this, he switches his attention to me and—as though seeing me for the first time since being hit—springs into action.
"Your lip!" he fusses.
He grabs a tissue from his suit jacket and presses it to my injury. I try not to react, not wanting him to know how much it hurts.
"Why are you scared?" he asks.
I gesture between us. "About being your first kiss."
"Why?"
"I want it to be perfect for you."
"Perfection isn't real, baby," he soothes. "Split lips and crying grown men are."
I laugh as his forehead rests against mine again.
"But that's okay. You are. You're real."
I nod.
"I'm real," he continues. "And the love I feel for you is real."
Once again, I bring him closer to my body, needing more of him.
"Are you still scared?" I ask.
He soundlessly nods.
"Will you kiss me anyway?"
"Do you want me to?
I nod.
"Close your eyes," he encourages.
"I will if you will," I compromise.
He does as he's told, and I take a moment to study the way his eyelashes cast shadows over his cheeks, elongated by the outdoor floodlights. His hands tremble as they hold me at the waist, unforgiving in their nerves. I spend a little time caressing his jaw in comforting motions before switching my focus to his beautiful, full lips. They remind me of Charlotte's, always somehow naturally pouting. I brush my fingers along the delicate flesh, prompting him to relax. In doing so, I find my own anxiety easing. It's like we're linked. The more relaxed he is, the more relaxed I am.
His eyes remain closed, the anticipation of what's yet to come increasing the intensity of his shaking hands. The music from inside is still playing, the violins magnificent in conjunction with the piano. No one is here. Only Freddie and I are witnesses to this moment and—feeling compelled to—I steady my own beating heart in preparation for what I'm about to do. My desperation outweighs my nerves and in a surge of confidence, I close my eyes and press my lips to Freddie's, stealing his breath. It hurts, but I don't care. His mouth is soft, practically melting into mine. Initially, he does nothing. We remain rooted in place, lips joined; unmoving. His hands slowly make their way up my sides, torturous in their journey. They trace the material of my dress, graze my breasts, and finally come to a stop at my face. Once there, he cups my cheeks and—in a moment I'll never forget—takes charge. He pushes his lips against mine in hard, controlled motions, unrelenting. He moans against my mouth, fully submitting to the moment. The vibrations travel straight to my stomach, seemingly awakening the butterflies there. At first, the feeling is overwhelming, but I soon settle into it as I take Freddie's first kiss for myself. His tongue lightly runs along the seem of my lower lip, encouraging me to open up for him. I do so without question, moaning as he enters me. My ears ring as he continues his assault, incapable of detecting any sound that isn't Freddie's delicious grunts. His teeth sink into my lower lip, followed shortly by a deep growl. I can no longer feel the effects of my split lip, Freddie having made everything better. I squeeze his shoulders and dig my nails into his flesh, overcome with need. My panties moisten the more he kisses me, rendered unwearable within seconds. More moans are exchanged as I trace the outline of his lip with my tongue, tasting him for myself. I squeeze my thighs together, hoping the motion relieves the pressure currently building between my legs. I never expected to feel like this. To experience need at this level. Kissing Freddie is more intimate than making love to him. Had I known, I would've initiated it when we were in walking distance of a bed.
"Freddie—" I mumble, attempting to talk.
He's having none of it, unprepared to stop.
"Baby," I giggle, lightly pushing on his chest.
He finally pulls away, lips swollen, eyes glazed.
"You're ruining my panties here," I inform.
He quirks a brow, smirking.
"We should stop," I suggest, not entirely onboard, but knowing it's for the best if I want to salvage my underwear.
Freddie rests his forehead against mine, panting. He remains here for a few seconds, seemingly gathering composure.
"Fuck this!" he suddenly declares, yanking off his jacket..
"What are you doing?" I ask, watching him lay it flat on the warm grass.
"Ever wondered what it's like to make love under the Eiffel Tower?"
I gawk at him, unsure how to respond. "FREDDIE!"
He shuts me up with a hard kiss.
"We can't!"
"Why can't we?"
I look around us, waiting for an excuse to present itself.
What if someone sees us?"
"What if they don't?" he counters.
"You're a police officer," I scorn. "Don't you arrest people for doing this?"
He smiles, lazily peppering my lips with sweet kisses. "Maybe."
I relent, unapologetic in my need to give in.
"Take your panties off," he demands, talking against my lips.
"You take them off," I suggest, meeting his boldness with my own.
He falls to his knees and bunches up the skirt of my dress, quick to locate my ruined thong. Once there, he slowly drags it down my thighs, using mostly his teeth. To my complete and utter surprise, however, he doesn't pull it all the way down and instead, buries his head between my legs.
"Oh, fuck!" I scream, unprepared for his mouth on my pussy. "FREDDIE!"
He persists, licking and sucking like a man starved. I'm lost in the sensations, overcome with pleasure as his tongue moves between my folds. I dread to think what we must look like and try not to obsess over it. I've come to learn that overthinking things can kill a moment and right now, I'm having far too much fun to stop.
"You're so fucking wet, Ana."
I moan, practically pulsing for him.
"Do you want me, baby?" he asks, coming to a standing position in front of me, thong now in his hand.
I nod.
"Kiss me," he instructs.
I launch myself at him, pressing my lips to his in a claim to steal his breath. I wince against the pain, but continue nevertheless. My split lip is but a minor inconvenience when it comes to kissing Freddie. We continue like this for a while, incapable of keeping our hands and lips to ourselves. Honestly, now that we've done it, I don't know how we managed to resist for so long. I can't imagine not being obsessed with his kisses. Not only does his love poor though them, but also his lust. His want. And there's nothing sexier on a man than his total and utter desperation for you.
"Touch me," I mumble, still kissing him.
He helps me to the ground, making sure I'm positioned comfortably in the centre of his jacket. The Eiffel Tower is directly to my left, gorgeous in its need to twinkle. I catch it in the corner of my eye and momentarily take pause, needing to cement this moment to memory.
"Babe, look."
Freddie stops kissing me to take in the magnificent view.
"It's so pretty," I inform.
"You're prettier."
I quickly kiss him and in doing so, wince in pain.
"I can stop if it hurts?" he offers.
"Don't you dare!" I warn.
He laughs as he captures my lips, groaning against my flesh as he lowers himself on top of me.
"I'm so fucking obsessed with kissing you," he mumbles, unprepared to remove his lips from mine.
"I can't believe we waited this long," I admit, enjoying the feel of his erection pressing into my stomach.
Once again, he kisses me and the second he delves deeper, the atmosphere changes. The passion and desperation we feel for each other is still there, but it's less chaotic now. More dignified.
"I love you," I say, pressing my lips harder to his.
I cup his jaw as I savour the taste of his mouth, mixed with the taste of his desperation. I push my breasts against his chest and immediately feel his erection against my core. My arousal rushes through me in tidal waves, almost overwhelming. Freddie must sense it because he lifts my skirt up and undoes his trousers, positioning himself at my opening.
"Condom?"
"No."
He eases into me, torturous in his execution. Again, I go to kiss him, truly obsessed with the way he tastes. Unfortunately, my attempts are met with rejection, his head dodging my lips last minute.
"Baby—"
"I can't," he informs, brushing his lips along mine. "I'm struggling here."
I take hold of his face, levelling his eyes with mine. "I don't mind."
"I do," he insists. "I want to be inside you for as long as possible."
I match his struggle with a smile and lightly caress his hair.
"As long as you're kissing me, I won't last long either," I promise, clenching my thighs.
He groans against my lips and pushes into me, cupping my face with his hands. I match his slow and steady thrusts, enjoying each sensation as it washes over me. He interlocks his fingers with mine, our hands pressing into the grass beneath us. I'm desperate to touch his skin and slowly unbutton his shirt, exposing his chest to me within seconds. I don't remove it fully, nor so I attempt to kick his trousers off. There's something sexy about a man fucking you with his trousers half way down his thighs. Freddie right now is no exception.
"I'm so fucking close," he warns, slamming his lips to mine.
He plunges his tongue into my mouth, exploring every last inch of it. His grunts vibrate against my flesh, the feeling travelling straight to my core.
"Anastasia," he moans.
"Not yet," I say, squeezing my walls. "Wait for me."
He groans against my mouth, lightly biting my bottom lip. His hands—once again—cover mine, pressing into the grass. I meet his thrusts with my own and match his pace with my lips. My mouth stings, but I don't care. Kissing Freddie while he's inside me outweighs any and all pain caused by that arsehole tonight.
"FREDDIE!"
He shuts me up with another harsh kiss, silencing my screams. I gaze into his eyes as my orgasm approaches, letting him know it's okay to let go. Within seconds, he relents, pouring his pleasure into me. Not once does he break our kiss, simply moaning against me as he succumbs to his climax. We exchange more kisses as we ride out our enjoyment, seemingly stuck in this blissful moment for hours.
"I fucking love Paris," he breathlessly reveals.
I can't help but smile.
✨✨✨✨
Hello, lovely!
HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!❤️
I can't believe they FINALLY kissed!!!!
I love this chapter SO MUCH and can't wait to share the next one with you already! 😈
Who's ready for some D, R, A, M, and A??? HAHAHAHAH!
Love you all! 💕
Rebecca xo