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“They call me the Mad Sheikh. Do you not think it’s for a reason?”
“This is too calculated for you to be mad.”
“Maybe. Maybe I’m just a beast.”
And that was when he lowered his head between her thighs, devouring her. She gripped his head, holding him there as he feasted on her like she was a delicacy. Like she was all he could ever hope to have and more.
She dug her heels into his flanks as he did. Short, sharp sounds of need escaping her.
“Yes,” he growled against her tender flesh.
She had come for him once, but he would demand that she do it again and again before he was satisfied.
He pushed two fingers inside of her again, joining with his teeth and lips and tongue, driving them both to the brink. To the edge of sanity.
And then he felt her break. Shatter. Her cries echoing off the walls in the garden.
He lifted his head and licked his lips. “Better than chocolate,” he said.
She shivered. “Riyaz. Please.”
He thrust inside of her finally. And she let out a hoarse cry. He moved slowly at first, doing his best to keep himself reined in. Under tight control.
He would pleasure her again. He would pleasure her again before taking his own.
She was shivering, shaking as he drew out each and every thrust. Luxuriating in the feel of it. The feel of her. And then his own control fractured. Shattered. Just as she cried out her pleasure.
And his movements became harsh, erratic. He thrust into her, again and again. As need grabbed him by the throat and shook him around. He was no longer in control. It was this. Only this. He wanted her. Needed her. Craved her beyond all else.
He gripped her hips and thrust hard, pouring himself inside of her on one last roar.
And then she came again too, her internal muscles pulsing around his arousal.
“Mine,” he said. And he leaned in and kissed her lips. “You need me,” he said. “You need this. For without me... Who will make you feel this way? No one. You cannot trade this for suburban despair.”
“I already said I’m not leaving,” she said, putting her palm flat on his chest. “I won’t.”
But there was a strange note in her voice, and it felt like something beginning to unravel.
He could not put his finger on it. He could not say what it was or why.
All he knew was that this moment was a temporary fix.
This moment was a Band-Aid.
It had not been the decisive thing that he had wanted it to be.
He felt disquiet in his soul, there beneath the burning sun.
“How does it feel to be out here?” she asked, sitting up slowly, drawing her knees to her chest.
He didn’t know why she was asking him that. Why she was looking at him as if she felt worried.
“It is fine. When I’m with you.”
“I’m glad.”
“How was it for you?” He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. She did that. Asked him how he felt. Said it was good. Said she was glad. He didn’t understand. She seemed to say such bland things. In these moments. Turn them around to him. And he didn’t know what the alternative was. He only knew there was something else that should be happening.
