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He tore her top from her head, and then began to push her skirt up to her hips. And then he swept her panties to the side and began to stroke her there, between her thighs. She put her hand over his cloth-covered arousal, and he groaned. Then she began to open up the closure on his pants. She freed him, arching her hips forward and sinking down slowly onto his arousal. He filled her. Perfectly. Absolutely. They weren’t generally fast like this. He preferred to take their time and feast on one another.
She loved that about him.
She knew that he took exceptional care with her body because there had been no other women before her, so he was never riding on empty experience. Never enacting moves that he had done before. It was all about her. It was all about what it made her feel. All about what she wanted. And that made her feel... Exceptionally good. It made her feel special. But this was something she needed. Fast. Furious. Him. Always him.
She cried out with pleasure as she began to ride him. As he clutched her hips, hard and strong, bringing her up and down over his body. She let her head fall back, a scream escaping her lips. “I love you,” she said.
And that was when everything stopped. Everything. At first she thought he meant to leave her body, but then he roared, his climax shaking them both. And he clung to her, his heart pounding in his chest as he stroked her hair.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “You do not say that.”
But he didn’t release his hold on her. “Why not?”
“Because. It is not for me. I do not like the words.”
“Riyaz...”
“Let us go to bed.”
And that was when he picked her up, and much to her great surprise, he propelled them both not to the dungeon, but upstairs. He laid her down on the bed and he kissed her. And it reminded her so much of their first time together. Something sweet. Something for the two of them. But inside she was breaking.
It wasn’t even that he hadn’t said he loved her in return. It was his outright rejection of her love.
It was that he wouldn’t even let her say it. That he wouldn’t accept it. It just felt wrong. Why wouldn’t he let her love him?
But then he was kissing her again. Trailing a path of fire down her neck, down to her breast, and she found it difficult to think. Because he was too much. And not enough all at once. Because she was caught in the reality of the situation. Of this life that she was choosing.
Because love was what made the family, and if he couldn’t say it... If he couldn’t even accept it... Then what did that mean?
Except she couldn’t think, because the alternative was a life without this. A life without him.
And it wasn’t as if you were given the option anyway.
No. She supposed that she hadn’t been given that option.
But then he was in her again, and she just wanted to exist in that moment. In that space. Where they were together. Where they were one. Where she hadn’t said that she loved him and he hadn’t rejected it. Because it felt better to not know. It felt better to leave it as an open and wonderful possibility, rather than have it closed down as something that could never be.
In the end she wondered what did it matter. If she could say that she loved him, if he could accept it. So long as she did. Wasn’t that the most right thing? Wasn’t that the most real? Wasn’t that the most important thing?
And he took her to the heights again. And she decided that maybe that was the thing. They had these heights. And it didn’t matter what they were called.
There was no laugh track on this. No canned responses from the audience to let her know how to feel. There was simply... There was simply all of this.
And it was good.
It was good.
This was the life she chose.
It might not be normal or perfect.
But it was hers.
And much to her surprise, he held her against his body, and they went to sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
