Chapter 26
Lana
The insatiability has been…insane. Maybe it’s the months of edging, all the time we spent cutting ourselves off when we wanted each other most, not including the orgasms he’d given me beforehand.
Christian is a hard man to resist. He is disgustingly and devastatingly attractive.
Incredibly sweet and thoughtful. All week he’s gone with me to work, driven my Jeep so he can perform maintenance I have ignored, tended to the garden, woken me up with kisses and has brought me breakfast in bed whenever I was so deep asleep I didn’t notice he’d gotten up.
He’s been loving me the way I need to be loved.
Our love languages have always been different, and we’ve built around that.
His was always more physical touch above all others, than the gift giving.
And mine was always acts of service. Our medium, however, has always been quality time—perhaps our favorite.
Mixed into all of that is a lot of mind blowing, intimate sex that leads to calm quality time while we watch one of our favorite shows or movies, or we will talk until we are dead asleep.
I think I’m obsessed with him, I just haven’t determined if it’s healthy or not. It doesn’t matter anyway.
I park my Jeep behind his obnoxious McLaren and smile when I see the garbage bins out. I eye the recycling bins overloaded with boxes, but ignore it when I hop out the car. Inside, I feel an ache in my core growing from the desire to push Christian onto our bed and ride him.
Utterly insatiable.
“Baby!” I toss my bag aside and kick my sandals off. “Christian?” I jog through the house and I’m peeling off my t-shirt, tossing it aside. “Babe?”
Nearly half naked, I come to a short stop when I find him in the kitchen. “Um… What? Why…” Christian stops cleaning the floor. “What is…” I wave my hand around the different colored boxes on the kitchen island. “…all that? Is this why there are so many boxes outside?”
Christian smirks, his eyes roaming over my torso. “Well, this is different.”
I cover my breasts in the sheer, lace bra with my arm and shoot him a look. “Christian.”
“Okay,” he sighs, coming to me. “I know you don’t like expensive things…”
I snort. “Well, I don’t not like them.”
Christian chuckles. “But I have… The company has this thing in New York that I have to go to…”
I blink. “I thought you were taking a sabbatical.”
“I am, but I’m still CEO.”
My eyebrows waggle a bit. “Wow, I’m fucking a CEO.”
Christian growls quietly while I laugh, and his hand wraps around my throat. I’m smiling, biting my lip, and he’s staring down at me as he says, “You aren’t just fucking me, Lana, and you know it.”
I squeeze my thighs together. “Mhhm.” His lips are pressing into mine hard, his tongue parting them with a groan. When he pulls back, I’m still smiling and I lick my bottom lip just for another taste of him. “So what did you buy me this time?”
Christian steals one last kiss before his hand lowers from my throat. “I thought you didn’t like my gifts.”
“I do. Sometimes,” I tease. “Now that you’ve learned what I like.”
“You said you didn’t like the shoes,” he points out, “but you always wear them so…”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
He smirks and sits at the island. “Come here, baby.”
I rush over and stand between his open legs. I throw my hands around his neck, and I’m obsessed with him. “Okay, so about this event?”
“It’s kind of like a gala,” he explains, his hands on my waist, drifting up and down my skin. “And I want you to be my date. So, I just bought you some things you can wear during our trip.”
“You bought me clothes?”
I look over at the boxes. Tom Ford. Carolina Herrera.Versace. Saint Laurent. Gucci. Prada. MiuMiu. Oscar de la Renta. Jimmy Choo. Valentino. I’m gaping at the boxes, and then I’m gaping at him. “Christian,” I breathe. “I can’t accept all of this.”
His hands move down my backside until he’s squeezing my ass gently. “You can and you will. There are shoes, dresses, some bags—”
I groan, tears welling in my eyes. “Christian…”
“There’s a custom made gown for you,” he says. “For you to wear to the event.”
My jaw drops. “Custom made?”
Christian shrugs like this isn’t a big deal. This would have bankrupted me, but for him this is barely a dent. Barely a scratch! “Open it,” he grabs the large Oscar de la Rena box and slides it over to me, “this is your dress.”
I stammer and trace the box with my fingertips. “Christian, I can’t.”
Tears drip and my throat is tight. I think about the jar we had with sloppy handwriting.
In sharpie it said, house jar. We saved everything we had to pay rent, to buy a house one day, to put ourselves through college.
And now…he’s here giving me all of this and I don’t know what to do with all of it.
But as much as I hated the handout from his mother, I can’t say I’m not grateful because it got me this house and my business—even if Christian doesn’t know.
“Open it, baby, please.”
I blink, the tears falling, and open the box. “Oh my god,” I gasp. “Christian, oh my god.”
His hands are cupping the back of my thighs and it’s the only thing keeping me steady. My eyes flit to his face and he’s beaming, a beautiful grin on his lips. “Do you like the color? It was between this and an emerald green but… this one… I know you’re going to look gorgeous.”
Scared to grab it, I just brush my fingertips over the fabric of the delicate, silky gown. “This is one of your favorite colors, Christian.”
I love when he wants me to wear his favorite colors.
“And it’s one of my favorite colors on you.”
I chuckle. Ruby red is a good color on me, I’ll admit. Against my skin tone and with my brown hair, I find it as flattering as Christian does. I just never imagined a dress like this—silk ruby red, just like his birthstone.
With shaky hands, I remove it from the box and watch the gown unfold like liquid. A strapless, subtle sweeping neckline and draped off-the shoulder short sleeves. The strapless bodice is slimmer than the rest of the gown, and I know nothing about fashion, but this is a masterpiece.
“Do you like it?”
I nod. And nod again faster. “Christian this is… this is beautiful.”
“And now for your shoes,” he says, and pulls the boxes in front of me. Gucci, Jimmy Choo, and Tom Ford boxes. Christian takes the dress from my hands and somehow manages to fold it back together the delicate way it came into the box.
I open the Gucci box first. “Christian!”
He laughs softly at my side. “Yes?”
Black leather boots with a heel, crystals embellished on the sides with the logo of the two G’s. I turn one of them over in my hand, touching the leather with the other. “Okay, these I like.”
Christian kisses my cheek. “Open the rest, Lana. We have a lot to get through.”
And the Jimmy Choo heels, glittered with a bow on the back. Two Tom Ford heel sandals, one black and the other gold.
Another Oscar de la Renta—mini dress with a floral design and crystals.
A Carolina Herrera sleeveless black bubble mini dress.
Another YSL crossbody bag, but in burgundy—these are slowly becoming my favorite purses.
MiuMiu heels. Four pairs of Prada sunglasses, in different shapes and colors, that I am obsessed with and will wear everyday for the rest of my life.
A Valentino dress with cutouts at the waist trimmed with little rhinestones or something, I don’t know.
But everything is beautiful. I need to be buried with all of it.
Finally, Christian pulls the last box toward me. “Last one.”
The last box—La Perla. I know them all too well because I always perused their website, added stuff into my cart, but could never afford it. I open the box and grin, Christian’s hand around my waist tightening and he kisses my bare shoulder.
“I love these,” I say. Orange, blue, yellow, red, pink, purple, and green sets. “How did you know?”
“I caught you scrolling the other night.”
I snort. “Of course.”
“Do you like everything?”
I drop the lingerie in the box and turn, my arms wrapping around his neck. “I love it all.”
Christian kisses me softly. “I tried to pick simple things.”
“Simple?”
He laughs. “Please come with me to New York.”
“Well, how can I say no when I have all this lingerie. And a sugar daddy.”
Christian laughs again then kisses my neck—again and again until I’m a mess. “Yeah?”
“I’ll wear one for you tonight,” I moan.
He groans in my neck. “We leave Thursday.”
“I’ll have to get my employees to cover,” I breathe.
“Mhhm.”
“Are we flying or driving?”
He pulls back, this tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “We’re taking the jet.”
“The what?”
“The jet,” he says again.
“Oh.”
He cocks his head and brow. “Did you want to drive?”
I shrug with a slight frown. “I don’t know. As much as I think your car is stupid, I kind of want to drive it just to see what it’s like.”
Christian laughs. “I’ll let you drive it tonight.”
“And I am going to shower and put one of these sets on.” I grab the La Perla box and hold it against my side, protecting its contents with my life. “No ripping these.”
“I’ll replace them.”
I glare. “These are my babies. You rip, you can’t touch.”
Smirking, he shakes his head. “I’ll buy you more.”
“I don’t care,” I snarl. “Break the old ones, not these.” I straighten my shoulders, firm on my rule, but he’s still smirking like a devil.
“Fine, I won’t rip them.” His amatory gaze rakes over my body and settles on my breasts in the old bra. “Can I rip the one you have on?”
“Approved,” I say, stifling a smile.
His eyes darken into something carnal and primal before he lunges and chases after me. I drop the box, regrettably so, and race up the stairs.
“Wait, Wait!” I’m laughing so hard I am struggling to breathe. I barge into my bedroom and make a run for my ensuite bathroom.