Chapter 25 #2
His bound hands couldn't guide me, but his eyes—hooded, thirsty—coaxed me down until I felt the first brush of his tongue, warm and wet against my clit, and I gasped, gripping the headboard for support.
What followed was exquisite torture.
The skilled swirl of his tongue, the gentle suction of his lips, the hum of appreciation that vibrated through me every time I gasped his name.
I rocked against his mouth, my hips moving instinctively, chasing the pleasure that built with each stroke, each determined flick against my most sensitive spot, my thighs trembling as the tension coiled tighter, hotter, threatening to consume me.
When I finally broke, it was with his name on my lips, a keening cry that tore from my throat as waves of pleasure crashed through me, my body trembling, my vision blurring with the intensity of it.
Before the aftershocks had fully subsided, I was already sliding down his body, pressing my sensitized pussy against his chest, squeezing every bit of pleasure I could while marking him.
When I lowered myself onto his cock, it was with a slow, deliberate descent that had us both moaning.
It was intoxicating to be in full control—to set the pace, to watch the pleasure transform his features, his eyes fluttering shut, his lips parting on a ragged breath.
I rolled my hips, slow and deliberate, each movement a delicious friction that made my clit throb, my body trembling with the effort of holding back.
The heat of him inside me, the stretch, the way he filled me so completely, was a maddening kind of perfection. Each roll of my hips sent sparks of pleasure coursing through me, my thighs quivering as I teetered on the edge of release.
I leaned forward, my hands braced on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath my palms, and I picked up the pace, my movements growing faster, more desperate, my breaths coming in sharp, needy gasps.
My clit dragged against his abs with every thrust, the friction a white-hot torment that made my core clench around him.
I chased a climax that hovered just out of reach, my body slick with sweat, my moans spilling freely as I rode him harder, faster, the headboard creaking with the force of my rhythm.
But something was missing.
Beneath me, Oliver’s breaths were ragged, his groans low and guttural, but his body remained stiff, controlled, his hips meeting mine with precision rather than abandon.
Even with his wrists bound, he was still in control of himself, of his pleasure, of the wildness I craved.
The restraints meant I controlled the interaction, but he wasn’t fully surrendering, wasn’t trusting me enough to lose himself completely, to give me the untamed Oliver who’d fucked me with unhinged ferocity a few of nights ago.
I wanted that Oliver.
The one who’d growled my name like a man possessed, who’d let go of every barrier and claimed me with a primal need that matched my own. I needed him to trust me enough to let go, to let our connection be raw and real.
Trust that went both ways.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the belt, fumbling with the buckle in my haste. My heart pounded with the realization that this was what we both needed—to be free together, to lose ourselves in each other completely.
He immediately sat up, kissing me with an ardor that stole my breath, his newly liberated hands finding my hips, shifting me until my legs wrapped around his waist, driving him an inch deeper. The angle make me gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.
And then we were moving together, my clit rubbing against the hard ridges of his abs with each movement, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through me, my body trembling as he fucked me with abandon, with desperation.
“You feel so fucking good, Lumina. So fucking mine.” His hands tightened on my hips, and he bounced me faster, harder, pushing me down to take him deeper.
“Fuuuuuck, Oliver.” The shrill cry was sure to carry to the adjacent rooms, and I didn’t care. I was his, and the entire world needed to know. “Just like that. Just like that.”
Oliver growled, then his mouth was hot on my neck, my breasts, everywhere he could reach. Whenhis lips tagged the sensitive skin below my ear, I wailed. When his teeth tugged at my nipples, the sharp sting followed by the soothing swipe of his tongue, I whined a long, “Fuuuuuuuuck.”
Each sensation pushed me closer to the edge.
The way he moved inside me was everything.
Tension coiled tighter with each perfect stroke, my body tightening, my breaths coming in desperate gasps. His rhythm faltered slightly as his own release approached, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave marks, a possessive edge that had my core clenching around him.
“God, Zahra.” The reverence in his voice, the desperation, the way he looked at me like I was his entire world, pushed me over the edge. My orgasm crashed through me, sharp and deep, pulling Oliver over the edge with me, his body shuddering against mine, his face buried in the curve of my neck.
For a perfect moment, we were one entity, indistinguishable, complete. And through the haze of my release, something profound surfaced. Something terrifying.
I was in love with him. Utterly and undeniably so.
"Stay with me, Lumina," he whispered against my skin.
I pulled back to look at him, finding his eyes filled with pleading, longing, a million emotions spilling out as if he couldn't lock them behind walls of rules anymore.
"I need you."
My heart ached from his words. They weren’t about a plan or a role he needed me to fulfill. It was a deeper kind of need, one that only existed when someone’s absence created an emptiness that nothing else could quite fill.
It was the kind of need I’d been harboring for him since our almost kiss at the park.
The request hung between us, heavy with hope and fear.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Not wanting to ruin this moment with questions about what he was still hiding, about why he wouldn't trust me with his secrets when he'd just trusted me with everything else.
That conversation was for later.
In this room, in this moment, I wanted to bask in our growing connection—in our expanding trust.
I brushed my lips against his, a gentle acknowledgment of what had passed between us, and his arms tightened around me as if he was trying to mold me into him.
Outside, the sun was setting, painting the room in amber and gold, the light casting soft shadows over our entwined bodies.
The rehearsal dinner would start soon.
Ryan would be there, watching, waiting.
But for now, we were just Oliver and Zahra.
No pretense.
No performance.
Just the hope that our trust wasn’t misguided.