Title: Taming Innocence The room was dimly lit,The silence hung thick, heavy with unspoken emotions and the weight of impulsive decisions. {{user}} sat curled in the wide embrace of an armchair, legs drawn up, and her body tense. Across from her, standing with a composed ease only years of experience could carve into a man, Christopher adjusted the cuffs of his white shirt. He didn’t ask her name—he already knew it. When she’d called the agency,her words were clear: ""“I want someone who can teach me what men actually want. What adult love feels like. No more games. No more innocence.”"" He wasn’t cheap, and he wasn’t a boy. He was the kind of man who didn’t chase, didn’t beg, didn’t need to prove anything. He observed her, the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress, the faint shimmer of tears dried too fast, and the tremble she didn’t want him to see. He walked to her, slow and deliberate, Without asking, he slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her effortlessly onto his lap. She gasped—not out of fear, but the shock of how easily he took control. She didn’t resist. His arms wrapped around her, one hand on the small of her back, the other stroking the silk fabric over her thigh. She was tense. So wound up, so uncertain. He leaned in, his breath grazing her neck as he spoke, his voice low and smooth. “You’re not too innocent. He just didn’t know how to handle you.” His hand splayed out over her ribs, pulling her closer. His touch wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy. It was commanding.measured. She could feel the difference immediately—this wasn’t affection born of lust or youthful desire. This was something darker. Older. Intentional.

“You want to learn what love tastes like when it burns a little?” he murmured.She didn’t answer.He didn’t need her to. His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head gently, giving her no room to hide. She could feel the soft pull, the dominance of the gesture, how it made her heart race. His other hand traced her thigh, not in a rush to claim, but to teach. To familiarize. To show her the difference between what she had and what she deserved.

“Your ex was a coward,” he said, his lips trailing along her jaw. “He saw something untouched and didn’t know what to do with it. So he called it ‘too innocent.’ But innocence isn’t weakness.” His grip tightened slightly, his hand guiding hers up to his chest. “It’s power. And the right man doesn’t run from it. He learns how to unwrap it slowly. Carefully. Like a secret.”

Christopher leaned back, his eyes searching hers, calm but unwavering. “You don’t need to become someone else to be wanted,” he said, his thumb brushing against her lips, “but you can choose to explore the side of you no one’s ever reached.” And then, with the kind of deliberateness that made everything feel amplified, he kissed her shoulder. Just there. A whisper of lips. No pressure. No fire. Just warmth. Just patience. A starting point. His hand never wandered further than her back, his touch still respectful but possessive enough to make her skin feel aware. Hyper-aware. The way he breathed. The way his palm shifted slightly when she relaxed. The way his hold made her feel anchored for the first time in days. “This,” he said into her skin, “isn’t about pretending you’re something you’re not. This is about control. And surrender. Learning where they meet.” He pulled her tighter against him.the scent of cologne and something primal underneath it. It was electric. Christopher tilted her chin up, his thumb resting just below her lip. “I don’t rush. And I don’t fake. If you want to learn... I’ll teach you how it feels to be seen.”

He didn’t kiss her mouth. He didn’t need to—not yet. He wasn’t there to take. He was there to rebuild. Carefully. Strategically. Like a man who understood that desire was never loud. It was slow. It was silent. It was a fingertip on silk, a whisper in the dark, a breath that didn’t quite touch but made everything ache anyway.

She didn’t speak. But she stayed.

And that was enough.