RUNNING AWAY FROM MY BETROTHED

CHAPTER 132. TOTALLY BLOWN

“I don’t want to ask for anything. Just tell me what you are offering. I will gladly take ,” he says.

I lick my lower lip before speaking. "It is worth a thousand nights of passionate and a whole lot of sweet, naughty stuff," I reply, my voice filled with as I meet his gaze with a playful glint in my eyes.

His grin widens at my words, and his eyes alight with a fiery intensity that sets my racing. He does not even wait to be invited, and I don’t mind it. He leans in to his kiss, passion.

"You bet it will be a crazy night, baby. It is a special night for my special girl, after ," he adds in between kissing, our lips refusing to part.

I pull away a little after a while, peeking at his eyes. "I really feel special, you know.

Even if you didn’t have to do a thing. I would still feel special as long I am loved by

Damian Almeda!" I respond.

"You are,’ he says, and he starts pulling away. “Come." He pulls me to the table. "I an amateur when it comes to love and what women like, so I opted for the simple so I wouldn't look so much of an idiot," he hands me the flowers, which I gladly.

I had to chuckle first at his statement before I sniffed the bouquet of roses. Well, it be just a rustic bouquet to him, but this means a lot to me. I never received roses my life. I actually thought I hated them, but that was until now.

"Thank you so much, love," I mumble.

He winks, smiling away my gratitude as if his efforts were nothing. "It is nothing.

Please, sit."

He pulls the chair for me, and I drop down on it. I thought he was going to settle on opposite side, but he carries the seat to my side and parks himself beside me.

If there was a third person takes notes of our story to write someday, I am sure this is he would sumarise it: "What is the name of this game?" Ellie seductively teased he caressed her earlobe with his sensual wet lips, feeding her his rich scented .

"What do you want us to call it?" She was spun around to face the gym wall as he , pinning her hands over her head and pressed his hard member on her round .

"Sexcapades?"...

Straight from the frying pan and direct into the raging fire. Ella is in that exact .

One evening she came home from work to find her step-sister being fucked by the she loved in her very own bed.

When she turns to her father for comfort, he brings up the subject she has always the most: the tale of her fiancé. Even in her desperate state of brokenness, she rather die than agree to be traded like trash and marry a stranger.

It was high time they abided by their agreement, but she never at once considered in to the absurdity of arranged marriages.

She just had one choice left, which was to flee, so she did.

Her friends, her family, and her position at her father's company are all left behind.

Phew! She runs away. To a new city. And of all the cities her rage could drive her into, had to be Mombasa.

Stranded on the road, she meets a mysterious in the city by chance, and in an instant, helps her forget the pain of betrayal. Damian Almenda, the god of beauty, sex, and , drags her into a strange, dark world of sex and pleasure to the point where is unable to imagine having sex with anyone else but him.

Yeah, the thought of me being with another man even without sex suffocates me so . I cant picture my life in another man’s arms. I beleong here. With Damian. In arms. In his heart. That is my place.

The continuation?

Well, that is what I am also awaiting to see how our future unfolds. Some things are vague, but we shall cross the bridge once we get there.

In the meantime, ‘God bless this guy for me,’ I think to myself, a wave of gratitude over me as I reflect on the happiness he has brought into my life. He cares me in a way that no one else ever has, cherishing me with a tenderness and that I had only ever known from my late mother. Yes, he reminds me of her, his is beyond. It is as if, to him, nothing in this world or anything in this life but me.

"Here." His voice interrupts my reverie, pulling me back to the present moment with a reminder that the night is just beginning.

And I suppose such a night could have not been complete without a drink? I look at glass of champagne dancing in front of me.

With a knowing smile tugging on my lips, I appreciatively accept the drink. "Thank ," I murmur, my voice soft with emotion as I raise the glass to my lips and take a of the cold liquid. The champagne is crisp and refreshing, its effervescence on my tongue and lifting my spirits with just the first sip. "It won't get me , right?" I tease.

“A glass is harmless,” he says, and adds, “And believe me, I had enough of you drunk once. I wouldn’t want a recap of that.”

Shieet!

As his words reach my ears, a faint blush rises to my cheeks, accompanied by a smile. He's right; a glass of champagne won't hurt, but I can't help but feel a of embarrassment at the memory of my drunken self from that day. I really made fool of myself that day, didn’t I? Was I even thinking when I took that bitter liquid my mouth, really? I doubt.

Turning to face him, I maneuver my legs between his, settling into a comfortable as I meet his gaze with a smirk. The scenery of me that night plays out in my like a cringe-worthy movie reel, and I can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of all.