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But then he slowed them down, kissing her softly. The gentle stroke of his tongue and the soft caress of his hands swept her body with tender passion that felt very different from their night in the tent in the desert.
He was so strong and she ran her hands over his muscled arms as he first held her waist, then slipped down and cupped her buttocks.
The veil of water kept their secret and Maggie rested her head on his shoulder as her eyes screwed closed. She was hot and swollen from last night and as he squeezed in it was almost as painful as before. She pressed her teeth into his shoulder and tasted salt with her tongue; she bit down a little and then they were one.
Their kisses were slow now as he moved within her.
‘You belong here, Maggie,’ he told her.
She felt as if she did.
Maggie’s head felt too heavy for her neck, and when she stretched it he kissed her there, moving faster and faster, driving into her with his thick length.
His fingers dug into willing flesh as their eyes locked. Both gazed deeply into each other’s eyes, reading the flames of desire and the smoke of anger and the white-hot heat of intense want.
She held her hands behind his head and shifted her hips in seductive slow motions. His lips tightened as he fought the urge to thrust hard and end this complex union, for this was more than sex, and he could not tear his eyes from hers.
Her breasts slid on his chest and the steam and the heat they made had her slippery and moving with utter ease. Maggie felt as fluid as the water, unlocked and undone, and so open to sensation that when he took over the rhythm and started pounding into her she simply handed her body over to him.
He thrust with precision, watching her mouth spread and the cords on her neck tighten as he took her faster. Her thighs were shaking as her calves gripped behind his back. She could feel his final surge and then, as Ilyas unleashed that raw, male power, she came with a sob and clenched him tightly as he drove his precious drops deep within her.
Maggie rested her head on his shoulder, fulfilled, but sad that it was over.
‘Come on,’ he said, but he did not lower her; instead, he carried her and placed her on the pool’s edge. She watched as, with practised ease, he climbed out.
‘Let’s go to the ledge...’
He had told her about that, about how it was his favourite space, and that no one else was permitted there. She was almost scared to be shown more of his world.
Because she was afraid of what this meant; of how it would feel when she had to leave.
But of course she said yes.
