I wrap my hand firmly around his thick base. A guttural sound rips from Rakan’s chest. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, chasing the contact.
Maybe I should draw this out, tease him and deny him. After all, he’s done it to me in the past. But I can’t bring myself to wait any longer. I lean forward and take the head of his cock into my mouth.
His taste explodes on my tongue, salty heat layered with that distinct, intoxicating flavor of ancient spices. I swirl my tongue around the broad head, pressing down hard on the sensitive slit. “Iris,” he hisses. “Dear gods, yes.”
I sink down, swallowing him deeper. It hurts to take him in so fully, and I come very close to choking. My eyes water, and I can feel him all the way down my throat. But his hands bury themselves in my hair, holding on for dear life. And there’s a vicious sense of triumph in drawing this type of reaction from such a powerful man.
Every time I slide all the way down to his base, the veins of amber fire beneath his skin flare brighter. When I drag my teeth lightly against the underside of his shaft, he curses in a language I don’t understand. It’s the same one the djinn in the alley used, and the thought should scare me.
But the memory is barely there now, as if it happened to someone else entirely, or in another life.
Rakan tugs at the roots of my hair, forcing me to pull back. A sheen of sweat glosses over his dark skin. “You’re still fighting me, aren’t you, Iris?”
I lick the lingering taste of him from my bottom lip, staring right up into his blown-out golden eyes. “Maybe I don’t like losing.”
“No one has to lose,” he replies. “Because as you and I both know, this isn’t a game.”
Rakan catches my waist and drags me up with him, forcing me off my knees. He stands at the edge of the mattress, towering over me. I reach for the hem of his dark shirt, my fingers fumbling blindly with the buttons. He’s apparently feeling sadistic, because he doesn’t vanish his own clothes, like he did with mine. He really is such an asshole.
It takes me longer than I’d like to finally get his shirt off. By then, I’m shaking, my pussy clenching around empty air. Every second that passes is a reminder of the moments we spent together in the club. “Can you stop teasing me already?” I snap at him.
“Demanding, aren’t you?” he purrs. But he doesn’t deny me.
He leaves his shirt and pants on the floor and pushes me back down onto the dark silk sheets. His massive hands slide up the backs of my thighs, parting them wider. He settles his weight between my legs, opening me up completely to the suffocating heat rolling off his skin. The blunt head of his cock presses flush against my slick folds.
“Iris.” My name is a raw, breathless warning on his tongue.
“Stop talking.” I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles over his lower back. I tilt my hips up, demanding the contact.
Rakan surges forward, sinking all the way to the hilt in a single violent thrust. He fills me so completely that his sheer presence forces every lingering thought right out of my head. I gasp, my nails digging deep into the hard muscles of his shoulders.
“Oh, God… Move, Rakan. Move!”
He pulls back and drives in again. The pace is slow at first, deliberate and punishing. Each sliding thrust draws a ragged sound from my throat. My anger tries to claw its way back up in jagged flashes. But every time the defiance flares, he hits the exact spot inside me that makes my spine bow off the bed.
His hands are everywhere. One arm slides under the small of my back, lifting my hips to meet his brutal rhythm. The other hand tangles in my hair, anchoring my head as his mouth claims mine.
He moves faster, driving into me so hard the solid wooden bedframe protests. The agonizing stretch and the intoxicating friction begin to consume my sanity. The sound of my own desperate cries almost drowns out the wet slap of our bodies colliding. And throughout it all, the golden light of his fire flashes in the dim room, sometimes settling over my skin in a near-physical caress.
It’s so intense it becomes unbearable. I try to look away, to shield at least a tiny part of my heart from this man who will no doubt destroy me. But he grips my chin and forces me to face him again. “None of that,” he demands. “Don’t hide from me. You’re mine, Iris.”
There’s something so simple and honest about that last sentence. Something that, despite everything, I can’t help but believe. At that moment, I truly feel that I’m the only thing in the room that matters to him.
The tension coiled tight at the base of my spine suddenly snaps.
My climax erupts over me, burning through my blood and hollowing me out completely. My inner muscles clench violently around his thick shaft. I dig my fingers into the hard expanse of his shoulders, and I cling to him as I ride out the blinding aftershocks.
Rakan groans and drives his hips forward one final time. His cock pulses inside me, thick and heavy, as he finally lets go. The moment I feel him come, my body responds to his release. I sob as a pleasure bordering on agony takes control of my flesh.
At this point, I can’t even tell where he ends and I begin. It feels like we exist on the same plane, sharing something only we can touch. Maybe I’m imagining it, but the fire that burns through his veins seems to rush through mine.
Slowly, the waves of overwhelming sensation begin to fade. Rakan collapses forward. His weight presses me down into the mattress, his arms wrapping tight around my waist to anchor us together. The rapid thud of his heart hammers directly against my breastbone. For a long minute, the only sound in the room is the overlapping rush of our breathing.
I want nothing more than to lie there, in his embrace, forever. But that’s just not the kind of life I live.
Reality comes rushing back in, and I realize just what we’ve done. Cursing, I pull away from him and drag the sheets over my naked body. “You don’t get to fix anything with sex, Rakan.”
“I don’t think that was my intention,” he replies. “Just like it wasn’t yours.”
