Chapter 7
MARYAM
I wake up sore. Sore, warm, and completely tangled in soft sheets that smell undeniably like him. Riku.
The events of last night slam into me all at once—the stolen glances, the tension, his mouth on mine, his body pressing me into the mattress, the way he took me like he’d been waiting for this forever.
My thighs press together at the memory, heat curling low in my belly.
And that’s when I feel it. A slow, lazy drag of fingers over my bare hip.
My breath stutters. My pulse skips.
I blink against the early morning light, stiffening when I realize I’m not alone.
He’s still here. Still in bed with me.
I turn my head slowly, cautiously, but he’s already watching me.
Dark eyes, completely alert, like he’s been awake long enough to memorize every inch of me.
My breath catches, because he’s too close. Too much.
Lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, the sheets just barely covering his hips, his muscled, tatted chest on full display like a damn work of art.
His fingers skim my skin again, tracing over my hipbone, his gaze dark and unreadable.
I swallow hard. “You’re staring.”
His full lips twitch. “You’re in my bed.”
His voice is deep, rough from sleep, sending a shiver down my spine.
I force myself to sit up, clutching the sheets to my chest. “Yeah, about that—”
Before I can finish, Riku moves. Fast and fluid. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back down, pressing me flat against the mattress. A gasp escapes me, my hands flying up, pressing against his chest. They meet nothing but big. Warm. Solid muscle. Oh God. I freeze.
He smirks. “Go on. Finish your thought.”
I open my mouth. Then close it. Because I don’t remember what I was going to say. Not with him hovering over me, his weight pressing me into the bed, his body so goddamn hard and hot against mine.
His hand slides lower, over the dip of my waist, down my thigh, making me shudder. And Riku notices. Of course he notices. I see it in the way his eyes darken, how his jaw tightens, his grip turning possessive.
And then his knee nudges between mine, spreading me wider.
A desperate moan escapes my throat.
Riku groans, low and deep, dropping his forehead to mine. “Fuck, baby.” His lips brush my cheek, my jaw, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re not leaving.”
It’s not a request. Not a question. It’s a statement.
And when his mouth claims mine, when his body settles over me completely, when his hands move lower with intent — I don’t argue. Because we both know I was never leaving to begin with.
* * *
RIKU
She’s so soft and warm under me. Her bare skin feels amazing, her full lips swollen from our kisses.
I drag my hands over her, slow and deliberate, tracing every curve. Every inch of her belongs to me now.
Maryam trembles, her breath coming out in shaky little gasps, her fingers gripping my shoulders like she’s already bracing for what’s coming.
Good.
Because I’m not done with her.
Not even close.
I slide my knee higher, parting her thighs, feeling the heat between them.
She whimpers, her wide hips lifting instinctively, searching for more.
I groan. “So needy for me already, baby?”
Her eyes lower, but she doesn’t deny it. Can’t deny it. Not when her body is giving her away.
I skim my fingers lower, dragging them over her wet, hot cunt, teasing her until she’s panting, arching, gripping my arms like she can’t take it anymore.
I’m watching her unravel under me.
“You’re perfect,” I murmur, sliding my fingers deeper, feeling her tighten around me.
She gasps, hips jerking, eyes fluttering shut. But I don’t let her get away with that. I grip her jaw, forcing her gaze back to mine.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” I rasp. “I want to see you fall apart for me.”
Her breath catches.
I slide lower, my mouth replacing my fingers, tasting her, devouring her, taking her apart piece by fucking piece. Maryam shatters for me, her thick thighs clenching around my head, her cries muffled against the pillows. But I don’t stop. Not until she’s gasping my name, pleading, trembling under my tongue. Then, when she’s wrecked and panting, when her body is still shuddering with the aftershocks of pleasure — I move over her again, pinning her down, lining myself up, pressing against her slick heat.
Her breath stutters. Her thighs tighten around my waist. And I grip her hips, hold her still, and push inside. Slow. Deep. Possessive. She gasps, nails digging into my back, her body all mine. Fuck! I bury myself completely, groaning at how tight and hot she is, how perfectly she fits around me.
Her breath comes out in broken little whimpers, her body clenching, pulsing, adjusting to the full stretch of me. I give her a second. Let her feel every inch. Then I pull back. And thrust deep.
Maryam cries out.
I grip her thighs, spread her wider, watch the way her body takes me, watch the way her lips part in another breathless gasp.
“You feel so good, baby,” I murmur, dragging my lips over her jaw, feeling her shudder under me.
She nods, mindless, lost, completely at my mercy.
I grip her hips, tilt them just right, and thrust again—deeper, harder.
She falls apart around me.
And I’m right there with her.