My hands fisted the blanket beneath us as I matched his rhythm, meeting every thrust with a grind of my hips, our bodies locked, our breath coming in gasps and sighs.The heat built slowly, sweetly, each moment pulling me deeper into him, into the intensity of our connection, until there was nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his love.
“Don’t stop,” I gasped, my voice shaking with need.
“Never,” he growled softly, pressing a kiss to my shoulder, moving harder, deeper, his pace tightening, tension coiling between us like a storm ready to break.
His rhythm shifted—deeper, harder, more urgent—his hands anchoring me with a possessive grip, guiding every thrust.Each stroke unraveled me, pulling me closer to the edge until my body trembled, desperate for release.
“Amir… please—don’t stop—” My voice was breathless, cracked with need, my body arching into his, surrendering to the fire between us.
“I’ve got you, love.Just feel me.Let go.”His words, low and urgent, wrapped around me like silk, a command and a promise in one.
His hand slid beneath me, finding that bundle of nerves slick and throbbing, his fingers circling, coaxing.The sensation hit me hard—pleasure sparking like wildfire, my breath catching, my limbs shaking.
And then I shattered.
A cry tore from my throat, his name on my lips as my climax ripped through me, blinding and hot, my body tightening around him, clenching, pulsing, lost in the storm of sensation.
Amir groaned—a deep, raw sound of surrender—his pace faltering, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise as he thrust deep one final time, holding there as his release overtook him.I felt it—the tremble of his body, the tension breaking, the heat of him spilling inside me as he pressed his chest to my back, breath ragged against my skin.
We stayed there, bodies entwined, trembling, our breaths loud and uneven, filling the space like music.
Slowly, tenderly, Amir eased out of me, drawing a soft gasp from my lips as the last tremors of pleasure rippled through me.The air between us felt thick with heat, our skin damp, breath ragged.He didn’t let me go—instead, he pulled me down onto the blankets, guiding me into the warmth of his embrace, our bodies still flushed, tangled, utterly sated.
I melted against him, my back to his chest, every inch of me pressed to his skin.His arm was tight around my waist, fingers splayed low over my stomach, possessive and protective.His heart beat against my spine, the rhythm grounding me, as a different kind of heat curled low in my belly—not urgent but smoldering, alive.
His soft and slow lips brushed my neck, tasting the salt of my skin.He didn’t speak at first.His hand wandered lazily, fingertips tracing the curve of my hip, the waist dip, sliding over my thigh in a sensual path that made my breath catch.
“You are like no other woman,” he whispered, his voice husky, grazing my ear like velvet.“There is more fire in you than in all of Persia.”
A shiver rolled through me, and I turned in his arms to face him, our legs entwined, my hand sliding up to rest on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath my palm.
“I could say the same about you,” I murmured, my lips brushing his jaw, my fingers gliding over the hard lines of his torso, lingering on the scars that marked him, each one a story.“You make me feel alive… like I’m burning.”
He kissed me—slow, sensual, a kiss meant to savor, not devour.His tongue teased mine, coaxing, tasting as if he needed to memorize me.And when he pulled back, his gaze was molten, filled with a need that never seemed to fade.
“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he murmured against my lips.His fingers slipped lower, caressing my thigh.His touch was lazy and tender but laced with the promise of more.
I let out a breath, content and aching, pressing my forehead to his.We both knew forever wasn’t ours to have, but in this moment, with his hands on me and his scent surrounding me, the world faded to nothing.
His hand slid to the small of my back, drawing idle circles, his touch sparking little flickers of heat as his voice rumbled low, right against my throat.
“I love you,” he said, not a whisper but a claim, a vow, every syllable sinking into my skin.
The words wrapped around me, a warmth deeper than his embrace, binding us.
“This is our secret,” he continued, his hand drifting to cup my breast gently, his thumb teasing over the sensitive peak, drawing a sudden, shuddering breath from me.“We will keep it, protect it.Protect you… Roman… us.”
His plea was a fortress built around our fragile space, a sanctuary from the chaos of the world outside.
I pulled back, needing to see him, read the truth in his eyes, and anchor myself in the depth of what we shared.My hand rested on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath my fingers.
“Promise me you’ll always come to see me,” I whispered, trembling, laced with hope and dread.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.But it wasn’t enough.
I swallowed hard, leaning closer, my lips brushing his.“Promise me… there will be no other women.Just me.Just us.My love, I can’t bear to be yours secretly and wonder if I’m alone.”
The words tore out of me—raw, vulnerable, a need I couldn’t hide.
