My jaw nearly hit the floor at what greeted me.
Wow. What is this? What's going on?
Lights—so many lights—glimmered all around, casting a soft glow over the space. Decorations were everywhere. I slowly turned in a circle, taking it all in, unable to hide my amazement. It was beautiful. Breathtaking, even.
Strings of lights were hung all around, illuminating the place like a private dreamscape. Three balloons floated lazily in the air, unmistakably filled with helium, each one tied to the metal railings along the path I'd just walked through. At the very center stood a table, carefully arranged, candles flickering on its surface. A small bouquet of daisies rested in the middle, simple and elegant.
"What's this?" I whispered to myself.
But before I could think any further, someone suddenly wrapped their arms around me from behind. He rested his head on my shoulder and hugged me tightly, as if he'd been waiting for this moment all day.
"Happy birthday to me," he said.
His voice was calmer now, steady—back to the man I knew.
"W-what is this?" I asked again.
"Do you like it?" he countered.
"Wait… is this your surprise?" I asked, and he nodded.
"Yup. I planned all of this myself."
"But… isn't this backward?" I said. "You're the one celebrating your birthday, and yet—"
He loosened his arms and turned me to face him.
"It's fine," he said softly. "As long as you're here with me. That's more than fine."
I stared at him for a long moment, my chest tightening.
"You still owe me," I muttered, turning away.
He immediately hugged me again from behind. His expensive, familiar scent filled my senses. Why did he smell so good? Damn it.
"I'm sorry."
"Oh no," I said dryly. "You're annoying."
"I really am sorry," he continued. "It's just… I didn't know how to start with everything I planned. Do you know I spent the entire day preparing this? I wanted it to be perfect, and it frustrated me when it didn't feel that way."
"But it's your birthday," I said quietly. Then, hesitating, I added, "And… I didn't bring you a gift."
He smiled and lifted my chin gently.
"You are more than enough, Gianna. You're the greatest gift God has ever given me. Thank you for spending my birthday with me."
That hit harder than I expected. I couldn't stop the smile—or the warmth spreading through my chest—as I turned to face him fully.
"Weren't you supposed to have a party today?" I asked.
"I was," he replied. "But I told them I didn't want one this year."
"Why not? Your investors and friends were supposed to come. It would've been like a reunion," I said.
"Not this year," he answered. "This time, I want to spend it with you—and only you, Gianna."
I fell silent, unsure how to respond to that.
"I'm hungry," I complained instead, making him laugh.
"Then let's eat," he said, stepping aside. "After you."
That was all it took. Just this—and my irritation melted away. You're really shallow, Gianna.
He helped me to my seat, attentive as always.
"Did you cook all of this?" I asked, eyeing the dishes laid out before us. They looked elegant, almost restaurant-perfect.
"No. I didn't have time, so I ordered everything."
I nodded. "It looks delicious."
"But my cooking is still better," he argued playfully.
I laughed. "Alright, alright. Just eat."
He served food onto my plate, and we ate together. A few minutes later, he stood up and disappeared briefly. When he returned, he was holding a small slice of cake.
He handed it to me.
It was strawberry—my favorite. Without hesitation, I dug in. But I stopped mid-bite when I realized he wasn't eating any. He was just watching me, amused.
"Y-your cake… is that all of it?" I asked awkwardly.
"Yeah," he replied, smiling.
Surprised, I quickly set my fork down and pushed the remaining slice toward him.
"I'm sorry—I almost finished it. You should've said something."
"It's okay," he said. "We can share. I'm sure it tastes good."
"But—"
I didn't get to finish. He suddenly pulled me closer and kissed me, his lips claiming mine without warning. I froze in shock.
When he finally pulled away, I was still stunned.
"Yeah," he murmured, smirking. "It does taste good. No—better."
I couldn't move as he leaned in again, kissing the corner of my mouth, then slowly licking away what must have been a smear of cake on my lip. The sensation sent shivers down my spine.
"You want your birthday present?" I asked, not even sure where the words came from.
His grin widened.
"Yes, please."
I met his dark, dust-colored eyes and let my hand trail up his body, over his chest, to his neck. Then I pulled him down and kissed him again, deeper this time. My hands slipped beneath his shirt.
I unbuttoned it, sliding my hand inside, then lower—past his waist, into his pants—until I felt him. Hard. Hot.
I smiled.
I wrapped my hand around him and began to move, slowly at first, then faster. A low groan escaped him.
"Now let me hear you," I whispered against his ear.
He laughed softly, tilting his head back. "Do it."
So I did.
The sounds he made—saying my name, breathing hard—it did things to me. I withdrew my hand and climbed onto him.
One by one, I undid the buttons of my blouse, revealing my bra. I removed it and faced him boldly.
"This is your birthday cake," I said. "You can taste it first."
He pulled me close. "Happy birthday to me," he murmured before his mouth found me, making my entire body tremble.
"F-Francis…" I gasped, fingers tangling in his hair as the sensations overwhelmed me.
He lifted me effortlessly and set me on the table, dishes clattering to the floor. He didn't care. He swept everything aside and laid me down.
When he moved to climb over me, I stopped him. "It might break."
He chuckled. "Good point. Then we'll do it on the floor."
He carried me down carefully, laying me on the cool tiles. Thank God it was clean.
When he lowered his pants, my eyes widened.
Dear God.
"That big?" I whispered.
"Scared?" he asked.
I swallowed and shook my head. "Just… be gentle."
"I will," he promised.
He positioned himself, holding my hands, and slowly pressed into me. I gasped—then cried out when he suddenly thrust deeper.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Tears slipped down my cheek. "You said gentle," I complained.
He kissed me, laughing softly, and began to move again—slowly this time. The pain gradually faded, replaced by something intoxicating.
He pulled back slightly. "Move with me, Gianna."
I nodded, lifting my hips, urging him deeper.
Faster. Deeper.
"You're too deep—and I like it," I whispered breathlessly.
Moments later, he pulled out, reaching for tissues on the table.
"Are we done?" I asked weakly, completely spent.
"Not yet, babe," he said, climbing back over me.
And as exhausted as I was, I knew one thing for sure—
I wouldn't regret this.
Not when it was him.