In this moment, he liked her—

liked her so much he could hardly stand it.

He wished he could merge her into his very being.

But no one could say who would be by his side five or ten years from now,

or even just five or ten days later.

A night of passion is worth a thousand golden coins,

and he wasn't about to take a loss.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

"Dad, she's my girlfriend, Sandra."

Arden's words left Sandra completely stunned.

He called this man 'Dad'. The strikingly handsome man sitting across from her, looking no more than ten years older than Arden, was actually his father?

As she looked more closely, the familial resemblance became undeniable, making it clear this man wasn't Arden's stepfather. Then again, with how well people maintained themselves these days, it wasn't unusual for men in their forties or fifties to look much younger. This was the age when maturity often carried an irresistible charm, especially to younger women.

But it wasn't his father's youthful appearance that shocked Sandra the most. It was the fact that Arden had just introduced her as his girlfriend!

She turned to look at Arden, a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry welling up inside her.

Only she knew the hesitation and inner turmoil she'd been grappling with over the past few days. She had finally convinced herself to embrace the role of his companion—no love, no commitment, no tomorrow, just the occasional meeting to indulge in the thrill of passion. What was so wrong with that?

She had tried to act indifferent, telling herself, Women have desires too, don't we? If men can seek pleasure without attachment, why can't women?

Her classmates, all of them brimming with the romantic idealism of aspiring artists, yet their personal lives were a tangled mess. Even those in relationships didn't always find the harmony in bed. Having someone like Arden—someone as exceptional as him, who knew how to be "considerate" during their intimate moments—was something she had convinced herself she should be grateful for.

But now, hearing his words, a sudden wave of emotion surged in her chest, unraveling the carefully constructed rationalizations she had clung to. She couldn't deny it any longer: women, after all, were often the ones most skilled at deceiving themselves.

The two of them returned to Arden's bedroom.

"You planned this all along, didn't you?" Sandra tilted her head, her gaze sharp as she searched his face for answers.

He had brought her home, fully aware that his father was there, yet he hadn't said a word. He let her stumble into the situation unprepared, forcing her to piece everything together on her own. 

"Were you afraid I'd get scared and run away if I knew I'd be meeting your dad?" Her voice carried a mix of accusation and curiosity.

Arden didn't answer directly. Instead, he reached down lifting the hem of the shirt Sandra was wearing. His hands gripped her bare butt firmly, giving her a sharp pinch. His tone feigning annoyance, "Little slut, nothing on down here? Were you planning to seduce my old man? Huh? With that petite body of yours, it wouldn't even be enough for him to chew on."

Sandra swatted his hand away, muttering under her breath, "Who knows where you hid my clothes."

Arden leaned in again, clingily rubbing against her with a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "This is better," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "A lot more convenient."

"Pervert! What's so convenient, huh? I think you're all about convenience." Sandra shot back, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she refused to back down. She pressed her hands firmly against his chest, attempting to push him away.

Arden didn't resist. Instead, he let her push him, stepping backward with each press of her hands. Step by step, he retreated until his legs hit the edge of the bed. In one swift motion, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her with him as they both tumbled onto the mattress.

"What do you think is so convenient, hmm?" he teased, his tone laced with mischief, his arms securely wrapped around her as she lay sprawled across his chest. He leaned in, his lips playfully seeking hers for a kiss.

Sandra squirmed, pressing against his chest and turning her face away, desperate to evade his playful advances. "Stop it, Arden!" she protested, her voice tinged with embarrassment as she struggled to climb off him.

But Arden only tightened his grip, his arms and legs locking around her like a panda hugging its bamboo. "Not a chance," he chuckled, his tone warm but unyielding. "You're not going anywhere."

Her wriggling became more frantic, but then she froze abruptly. A sudden awareness crept over her, and her face burning as she realized the unintended consequence of her struggles—part of him began to awaken.

Arden didn't push things further. Instead, he simply held her close, his lips brushing softly against her shoulders, neck, and chin. The kisses were gentle and scattered, more affectionate than driven by desire, as though he were restraining himself.

After a while, he stopped, resting his chin on her shoulder. His gaze softened, a flicker of longing still lingered in his eyes. "What's wrong?" he murmured, his tone low yet earnest. "Don't you want to be my girlfriend?"

Sandra remained silent, turning her head away. Her gaze landed on the mirrored closet, her reflection staring back—flushed cheeks, a defiant tilt to her chin, and the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She bit her lip, unwilling to voice the turmoil stirring within her.

Arden suddenly let go of her, sprawling out on the bed and grabbing a pillow. With exaggerated flair, he pressed it over his face. "If you don't want to be my girlfriend, just smother me with this pillow and end it now," he declared, his voice muffled.

Sandra crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, you want to be suffocated? Fine, your wish is my command," she said with mock seriousness, crawling over to him and pressing the pillow down firmly with both hands. "Perverted scoundrel, this is for the greater good—eliminating a threat to society."

Arden squirmed beneath her, letting out muffled, exaggerated protests as his arms flailed weakly. The more he thrashed, the harder Sandra pressed, perched determinedly atop his waist, "You brought this upon yourself," she muttered, gritting her teeth.

After a few melodramatic struggles, Arden suddenly went still, his arms falling limp.

Sandra froze, her hands still on the pillow. She knew he was faking—he had to be. Slowly, she lifted the pillow, peering down at him.

Arden lay there, tongue lolling out of his mouth, eyes rolled back in a theatrical display of "death."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Arden?" she called cautiously, her voice quivering ever so slightly.

No response.

Sandra leaned in, hesitating before reaching out to check if he was breathing. Just as her fingers brushed his face, Arden suddenly let out a loud, ridiculous noise and playfully chomped down on her finger.

She shrieked, yanking her hand back as her heart leapt into her throat. "Arden!"

"You're so annoying!" she snapped, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking it against his head. "Annoying, annoying, annoying!"

"Ah! Are you trying to kill your poor husband?!" Arden cried out dramatically, shielding himself with one arm while wrestling the pillow from her grasp with the other.

Sandra wasn't about to back down. She grabbed another pillow from the bed, swinging it with renewed energy. Arden managed to wrest one away, but she was quick to snatch up another. The bed seemed endless with pillows—seven, maybe eight, stacked high, perfect for lounging during lazy TV marathons.

And just like that, chaos erupted. Pillows flew through the air as laughter and playful shouts filled the room. They fought like two mischievous children. The earlier tension between them melted away.

All Arden could see were white shadows flying around him as pillows whizzed through the air. Grabbing a pillow, he hit it back, "You're getting bold just because I'm letting you win."

"Who needs you to go easy on me?" Sandra retorted. Seeing him fight back, her competitive spirit immediately surged by 50%. With a grin, she swung harder. "Watch me knock you out!"

"You little flirt, take this—right on your butt!" Arden teased, sending another pillow flying.

"I'll hit you harder, you big pervert!" Sandra countered, dodging his attack and retaliating with a swing.

"Missed! Missed again! Come on, try harder," Arden taunted, expertly blocking her shots.

"Oh yeah? I'll sweep your waist this time!" she challenged.

Arden laughed but quickly winced when a pillow smacked him square on the head. "Hey! Didn't you say my waist? Why're you hitting my head?"

"Ever heard of misdirection? All's fair in a war!" Sandra grinned mischievously, lifting another pillow. "Now, watch out for this one—here it comes!"

At first, their snarky remarks filled the room, but as the battle wore on, the banter faded into determined silence. Each of them locked in a intense focus. The only sounds now were the rustling of pillows and the occasional huff of exertion.

A few times, Arden tried to grab Sandra to end the fight, but she was too caught up in the game, moving with surprising agility. 

Sandra's back and waist began to ache, so she decided to move around a bit to relieve the tension, treating it like part of her regular training. Once the energy kicked in, she went all out, pushing herself until she was completely exhausted before stopping.

Seeing her persistence, Arden decided it was time for a change of strategy. Casually, he tossed the remaining pillows aside, systematically reducing her arsenal until she was left unarmed. 

With no more pillows in reach, Sandra threw herself at him, trying various positions to pin his limbs down and push him onto the bed.

Arden didn't resist much, allowing her to twist his arms and legs like a pliant rag doll. A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her grit her teeth, her focus entirely on holding him down, her breath coming in quick, determined bursts.

Finally, Sandra sat up with a triumphant grin, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. She paused, taking a moment to admire her handiwork: Arden sprawled beneath her, his grin as smug as ever, despite the situation.

"Are you satisfied?" Arden asked, his voice dripping with teasing amusement.

Sandra exhaled sharply, giving a short nod. "Not bad."

Arden's smile stretched into a mischievous grin. "Good. Now it's my turn."

Before Sandra could react, a white pillow struck her head with surprising force, knocking her off balance. She tumbled onto the bed, her instincts kicking in as she raised her hand to block the next attack. In the chaos, her fingers snagged on something—a thread, perhaps.

Arden yanked the pillow back, and with a soft rip, the fabric tore open, sending a flurry of feathers spiraling into the air.

"Achoo!"

"Achoo!"

Neither of them was prepared for the sudden snowstorm of fluff. The air thickened with feathers, and both sneezed in unison, momentarily overwhelmed by the chaos.

Sandra looked at Arden amidst the flurry. His hair, his face, even his shoulders were dusted with white feathers. He looked utterly ridiculous, yet somehow handsome.

She couldn't help it—a giggle bubbled up, escaping her lips. Arden turned to look at her, equally covered in fluff, and the sight made him burst into laughter. Their chuckles quickly turned into full-bodied laughter that echoed through the room, only to be interrupted by another round of synchronized sneezing.

Arden rubbed his nose, grinning like a mischievous boy. Without warning, he pulled Sandra into his arms, and together, they collapsed back onto the bed. sending another puff of feathers floating lazily around them.

They both fell silent, their laughter fading into the stillness. Surrounded by the soft cascade of white feathers, their eyes locked, and the world outside faded away. Time seemed to pause, leaving only the two of them, their breaths mingling as they lay close, wrapped in the quiet magic of the moment.

Only Sandra felt as though time had truly stopped. Arden's gaze never wavered from hers, his dark eyes warm and intense. With a subtle, almost imperceptible movement, his hands reached for the tie she'd casually knotted around her waist, slipping it loose in one smooth motion. In the next instant, his fingers nimbly began to unbutton her shirt, one after the other, with practiced ease.

By the time Sandra snapped out of the dreamy haze created by the floating feathers, it was too late. She looked down and realized that Arden had already stripped her.

Arden gazed down, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of her, surrounded by the scattered white feathers. Her fair, delicate skin stood out against the soft, snowy contrast. Her slender frame, full of vitality and beauty, was utterly captivating.

A slow grin curved his lips as his eyes roved over her, filled with a deep, consuming intensity. His voice dropped to a low, almost reverent murmur. "You are so... beautiful."

Sandra grabbed the nearest pillow and tossed it at him, her cheeks burning crimson. "You're a shameless scoundrel!"

He caught it effortlessly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Shameless? Maybe. But can you really blame me?" His smile deepened as he leaned closer, feathers caught in his tousled hair.

Romance was enchanting, but reality had a way of sneaking in to remind you of its presence.

Duck feather pillows were delightful for sleeping on, even fun for tossing around in playful battles. But lying atop them, surrounded by scattered feathers, while trying to make love, brought its own set of unexpected challenges.

As Arden kissed his way across her body, like he always did, his movements paused now and then. He pulled back slightly, his lips pursing in irritation. "Is that... a feather?" He spat something out, muttering under his breath.

Sandra, struggling to hold back a laugh, shifted slightly—only to send another flurry of feathers into the air.

Her nose twitched. A feather brushed her cheek, the itchiness growing until she couldn't hold it in any longer. "Achoo!" she sneezed, sending another gust of feathers spiraling around them.

With every movement, the soft duck feathers quivered and rose into the air, giving the atmosphere an ethereal feel but making everything utterly impractical. Arden sighed, dropping his head onto her shoulder, a blend of laughter and frustration rumbling through his chest.

Arden scooped Sandra into his arms and carried her to the bathroom, determined to rinse away the chaos of feathers. Yet, even after standing under the steaming shower for what felt like ages, the lingering, ticklish feeling in his throat refused to go away.

Sandra stood beneath the showerhead, warm water cascading over her as she watched him clear his throat for the umpteenth time. Unable to resist, she broke into a soft snicker, her shoulders shaking with amusement.

Arden shot her a sharp look, though his lips twitched with the faintest smirk. "What are you laughing at, kitten?"

Before she could answer, he plucked a soggy duck feather from who-knew-where and swiped it across her face, his expression smug.

"Hey!" Sandra shrieked, dodging the swipe and swatting his hand away, sending splashes of water everywhere. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she retorted, "You brought this on yourself."

Arden raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh, is that so?"

He leaned closer, water dripping from his hair, his voice dipping into that teasing tone she knew all too well. "Shall we see who's really paying for it, hmm?"

Sandra rolled her eyes, flicking a playful splash of water at him. "Keep dreaming, you feather-covered scoundrel."

Arden stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her. His lips brushed against her skin, his voice low and tempting as he whispered, "Let me share it with you—every last bit—so you can taste it too."

Sandra placed her hands on his chest, gently pushing him back. Her bright eyes locked onto his, shimmering with an enigmatic, playful glint. 

"No need," she murmured softly, a sly smile curving her lips. "I'll handle it myself."

Before Arden could ask what she meant, Sandra rose on her tiptoes, her lips brushing softly against his jawline. Her teeth grazed his chin, lingering just long enough to make his breath hitch. The scratchy texture of his stubble didn't deter her. Instead, she leaned in closer, letting the tip of her tongue trail up his throat, tracing the curve of his Adam's apple.

The sensation sent a shiver racing down his spine, and he swallowed reflexively, his Adam's apple shifting beneath her touch. His thoughts spiraled, struggling to keep up with her unexpected boldness. 

This little kitten really is hungry, Arden mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. She's even learning how to hunt on her own now.

The tip of her tongue teased the hollow of his throat, tracing its movements twice before sliding downward. Her soft lips replaced licks with gentle, deliberate suction, clinging to his collarbone like a determined little octopus.

His muscles were firm beneath her touch, his skin taut from her relentless attention. Yet, despite her efforts, the mark she attempted to leave was faint, refusing to come out as vivid or defined as she had hoped. 

Sandra paused, leaning back slightly to inspect her handiwork, her brows furrowing in a mix of curiosity and mild frustration.

Planting love marks really is an art, she thought, How does he always manage to make them look so perfect—shapely and colorful every single time?

She huffed inwardly, realizing it definitely wasn't a skill honed overnight.

Even without her intentional teasing, Arden found himself struggling to hold back. Her playful yet inexperienced provocations had him on the brink of losing control. Still, he remained motionless, determined to endure. He wanted to see just how far she would take this game.

But Sandra quickly ran out of ideas. Whenever April watched those so-called "educational movies," Sandra had kept her distance, feigning disinterest. Everything she knew came directly from Arden himself. Now, all she could do was mimic the things he had done to her.

Her brows knit in concentration as she tried to recall his movements, each gesture carried an endearing mix of boldness and uncertainty—her inexperience showing through. 

Arden couldn't help the grin spreading across his face as he watched her efforts. There was something utterly captivating about her determination, no matter how clumsy.

Sandra's hand wandered upward, brushing against his chest. Her fingers pressed curiously against the firm muscles beneath her touch—taut as stone, yet unexpectedly soft at the small, sensitive peaks.

Tentatively, she grazed one with her fingertips, earning a low, restrained hum from him. The sound resonated through her, sending a subtle thrill down her spine. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, finding his eyes dark, alight with an almost smoldering intensity.

But then, a mischievous glint flashed in her eyes, and her lips curved into a wicked smile. Without warning, she pinched as hard as she could.

"Ah—! You little minx, haven't you had enough fun?" Arden growled, catching her playful hand and pinning it above her head against the wall.

Though his voice held irritation, the smirk playing on his lips betrayed his amusement. 

"Like to play so much, do you?" His voice was thick with mischief. "Then let's play a game—guess what I'm writing."

Sandra opened her mouth to ask where he intended to write, but the words froze on her lips as she suddenly felt something firm pressing against her stomach. It moved slowly, tracing deliberate, lazy patterns across her skin.

Her breath hitched as she realized what he was doing. "Arden, you're so...perverted." she muttered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

He chuckled low in her ear, his voice a blend of teasing and challenge. "Come on, kitten, take a guess. I'm not stopping until you get it right."

"I... want... you..." Sandra carefully deciphered the movement, her voice barely above a whisper as she pieced the words together.

"Brilliant." Arden murmured, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Before she could fully process her own words, he scooped up her leg with practiced ease, making it clear he intended to turn his playful writing into action.

Remembering the faint scratches on her delicate skin from last time, Arden reached for a nearby towel. This time, he wasn't taking any chances—even through the walls of his shower were smooth as mirrors. With practiced care, he padded the spot where her back met the wall before leaning in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

Sandra's body tensed reflexively, a fleeting spark of sanity flickering in her mind.

One word—just one word—could change everything. The meaning was so different, yet here she was. Things had already spiraled to this point, and in the heat of it, what more could she ask for?

Maybe she could ask for more. Maybe she deserved to. But in that moment, tangled in the haze of emotions and sensations, her thoughts couldn't reach that far. 

All she could do was immerse herself completely, surrendering to the weight of the moment.

Let herself be swept away.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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