Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
Rabin scooped Zarya into his arms, loving the way she felt pressed against him. She squealed in delight and looped her arms around his neck. He’d never get enough of that joyous sound. She was the sunshine to his storm. The perfect ray of light piercing through the layers of his darkness. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed her until she’d blown into his life.
The decision to ask for her hand had been on his mind for weeks. Ever since they’d completed the Bandhan. It had brought them together in irrevocable ways, but it still hadn’t felt like enough. It didn’t encompass all the profound feelings he’d developed for this woman. He’d been alive long enough to understand there was nothing ordinary about their connection.
He strode across the room and tossed her on the bed, eliciting another happy scream.
Maybe, if he were being brutally honest with himself, a small part of him had proposed to defy Abishek’s orders. He’d been seized with a sick sense of fear that someone would take her away. So he’d asked her to marry him, and now nothing could ever come between them.
“Take off your clothes,” he ordered as he began opening the line of buttons running the length of his sherwani. At first, she didn’t move. She cocked her head and studied him as he shucked off his jacket and then unbuttoned his collar and then his shirt sleeves, rolling them up to his elbows.
He took a step, towering over her. “You promised me something that night in Premyiv,” he growled.
“Did I?” She sat back on her hands as she looked up at him with those dark eyes that saw right into the center of his soul.
The corner of his mouth quirked up as he dropped to his knees and planted his elbows on the mattress. “That you’d show me how you use these fingers.”
He lifted her hand and kissed the tips as a blush crept to her cheeks.
“Show me how you touch yourself, Zarya.”
A row of ties ran up the side of her hip to fasten her skirt; he tugged on the first bow, feeling the satin ribbon give under his pull. Her breath hitched, and her mouth parted as he moved to the next, slowly undoing them one by one, exposing the smooth brown skin of her hip and the top of her thigh.
He ran his hand under the fabric and across her stomach, noting the flex of her muscle and the flush of her skin. He loved strong women—not just mentally, but the kind that could kick his ass. Pushing down the fabric, he exposed the waistband of her underwear and ran a finger along the lacey edge, watching goosebumps erupt.
“Take it off,” he said, tugging on her skirt. She lifted her hips, and he slid it down, under her butt and legs, before tossing it aside.
She watched him with a mixture of excitement and lust in her eyes. His hands pressed on the inside of her thighs, spreading them wide. Her knees fell open and he stared at the bare scrap of fabric covering her pussy, noticing it was already wet. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to taste her again, but first, he had other plans.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered, and he watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed. He held out his hand for hers before guiding her down between her legs. “Show me,” he rumbled as she ran a finger up the center of her underwear, exhaling a small gasp.
“Does it feel good?” he asked, and she nodded.
He licked his lips as he watched her fingers dance over her center while his hands opened her legs wider. His fingers crept closer until he reached the silk edges, digging his thumbs into her skin. She moaned as he watched her press harder, her center growing wetter with every sweep.
He grabbed her wrist and directed her hand under her waistband. When her fingers met hot flesh, she whimpered under his gaze. He watched them moving under the fabric, his cock already painfully hard.
He tugged aside her underwear so he could watch. “Fuck yourself with your fingers, Spitfire,” he said, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. He was growing warmer and warmer, but he didn’t want to undress just yet. He wanted her naked under him, begging for him, craving him.
With his eyes never leaving the spot where her fingers dipped into her pussy, he reached around to undo the line of ribbons keeping her choli in place. When the last one opened, he slid it down her shoulders. She pulled her hand out long enough to free her arms before she resumed her movements.
“That’s my girl,” he rumbled as he leaned down and took her nipple between his teeth, biting down. She cried out as her back arched into him, her breasts pressing into his face. He licked the tip as he continued dragging his tongue down her body.
His gaze fixed on the thick vein running along the inside of her thigh, his mouth watering at the sight.
“You’re going to come,” he said, thumbing the vein, making her shiver under his touch. “And I’m going to bite you. Understood?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes wide before he lowered his head and licked a trail up the inside of her leg. He groaned at the sweetness of her skin and the way her aroma overcame his senses.
“Don’t stop,” he said, wrapping a hand around her wrist as he guided her along her soaking wet pussy. He could smell it. Her desire. Her want. Her legs were already shaking as he scraped the sharp edge of a canine against her delicate skin.
He didn’t give her a warning this time. With a sharp intake of breath, he sunk his teeth into her vein. He sucked hard, his mouth flooding with the earthy taste of her blood. It wasn’t the way humans described it. Like copper. No, it was far more layered than that. The blood of an Aazheri literally tasted of magic. Like something fresh and crisp and electric.
And Zarya’s blood was something entirely new to him. She tasted like flowers in spring and a soft breeze on a summer day. She tasted like honey and sugar and cream. Like cinnamon and pepper, but it was all layered with something darker, like coalescing shadows, everything twisting together to create something that was simply and unmistakably her .
His hand clamped above her knee as she continued touching herself, her finger roughly circling her clit as she moaned and her hips bucked. He continued sucking, drinking her in until she screamed, her orgasm ripping through her as her fingers dug into his hair and tugged hard enough for him to feel it to the roots.
He didn’t care. She could do whatever she wanted as long as she let him do this every single day of their lives. When she stopped shaking, he slowly drew his teeth from her skin, carefully licking the two puncture wounds to seal them over.
He stretched up, licking his lips as he pulled her towards him and kissed her, his tongue driving into her mouth as he pushed her back on the bed. Crawling over her, he continued kissing her, luxuriating in the taste of her blood mixing with her mouth.
He kissed her until he could barely breathe and then lifted up, his eyes roaming down her body, taking in the sight of her big dark eyes and her full lips. The angle of her collarbone and the swell of her breasts. His eyes drifted lower over the plane of her taut stomach and down to her hips.
And then, he curled his fingers out before delicate vines crept across the bed and circled her ankles and wrists, twisting gently down her arms and legs as she watched.
“What are you doing?” she whispered as he unbuttoned his shirt and then his pants.
“Do you trust me, Spitfire?” he asked as he tossed away the last of his clothing.
“Of course,” she breathed instantly, and he couldn’t help but smile.
He filtered out another thread of magic as the vines pinned her to the mattress, leaving her helpless. Then he dragged a finger down the center of her throat and between her breasts as another creeping vine followed the same path.
She watched, her chest heaving in and out as the vine crept lower, tickling her skin down past her ribs and then her navel.
“Ready?” he asked, and she nodded.
“I think so.”
He chuckled as the vine slid lower, the pointed tip touching her swollen clit. She cried out, her entire body seizing against her restraints as she moaned and writhed. He continued directing his magic over that sensitive spot, harder, softer, faster, slower as she begged and pleaded. For more. For release.
His hand smoothed up her thigh before he took himself in his hand, stroking himself with long thrusts as he directed the magical vine directly into her pussy. She gasped as it slid into her, and though he couldn’t feel it, the way she arched into it had every nerve in his body burning with fire.
“You,” Zarya managed to gasp in between her moans, and it took him a moment to understand she was asking for him to touch her. To fill her up.
He grinned and collapsed on all fours as her eyes met his. He directed the vine of magic into her with a few more gentle thrusts as he held her gaze and then pulled it away before pressing his cock to her entrance.
With her limbs still pinned in place, he eased into her, slowly at first, groaning at the exquisite bliss of her tight walls. Her heels scrambled against the bed as she continued urging him on. “Yes,” she whispered. “Rabin, undo me.”
And that finally tore the last shreds of his control. He slammed into her as they both whimpered, her heat enveloping his pulsing cock, making his vision blur. She was pure sensation and passion. He felt everything with her. More than he thought he could feel.
He thrust into her again, watching the spot where she took him, moving in and out.
“I love you,” he rumbled as he filtered out a new vine of magic, dancing it on her sensitive clit and then thrust again as she came around him with a cry. He lost control, fucking her with abandon until he thickened and then spilled into her with a force that nearly turned him inside out.
When they both caught their breath, he pulled his magic away and she reached up to cup his face, bringing him down for a kiss. He would have done anything for her in that moment. Torn apart mountains and worlds. Climbed to the moon if she asked.
She was his purpose. His destiny.
As he took in the flush of her cheeks and the sparkle in her dark eyes that seemed to contain the entire universe in their endless depths, he felt like he finally understood himself for the very first time.