Chapter 38 Zahara #2
My throat tightened at hearing his maturity. Because here he was, opening up, being vulnerable, telling me things he probably never told anyone.
And I was still lying to him.
“You’ve opened me up in ways I’ve never been,” he continued. “Made me feel things I thought I’d buried a long time ago. And I love you, Zahara. I love you, and I love Yusef. Y’all are my family now.”
“Prime—”
“And I’m done letting y’all stay in that apartment. Done watching you struggle when I got more than enough to share. From now on, this is your home too. Both of you.”
The guilt was crushing. Suffocating. He was offering me everything—his home, his heart, his protection—and I was keeping the biggest secret of my life from him.
I should tell him. Right now. Before this went any further.
But when I opened my mouth, different words came out.
“I love you too.”
Because I did. God help me, I loved him so much it terrified me.
And I was too much of a coward to risk losing him.
He held my gaze for a long moment. The air between us shifted. Charged. That playful energy from earlier dissolving into something deeper. Something heavier.
He set his wine glass down deliberately.
Walked around the counter to where I sat.
His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my bottom lip.
Before I knew it, he kissed me deeply. Our tongues melded together, searching for each other’s secrets.
His strong hands gripped me by the hips, picked me up and carried me to the bedroom.
The master suite took up the entire second floor, separated from the rest of the penthouse—from Yusef’s room—by a full flight of stairs. A California king bed with black sheets dominated the space. More floor-to-ceiling windows. A bathroom I caught a glimpse of that looked like a spa.
But I didn’t care about any of that.
I only cared about his hands. His mouth. The way he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.
He set me on the edge of the bed and stepped back. Started unbuttoning his shirt slowly. Deliberately.
“Take off your clothes.”
Not a request. A command.
I obeyed. Pulling my shirt over my head. Unclasping my bra. Sliding out of my jeans and panties until I was completely bare before him.
He stood there, shirt open, chest exposed, eyes traveling over every inch of me.
“Lay back.”
I did.
He finished undressing, revealing that body I’d memorized by now—all hard muscle and smooth caramel skin. He was already hard, thick and heavy between his legs.
But he didn’t come to me. Not yet.
Instead, he went to his dresser. Opened a drawer. Pulled out something I couldn’t see.
When he turned around, he was holding a silk tie.
“You trust me?”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Yes.”
“If you need me to stop at any point, say ‘red,’ understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good girl.” He crossed to the bed. “Put your hands above your head.”
I raised my arms, crossing my wrists against the headboard. He climbed onto the bed, straddling me, and wrapped the silk tie around my wrists. Pulled it tight enough to hold but not enough to hurt. Secured it to one of the slats in the headboard.
I was bound. Helpless. Completely at his mercy.
And I’d never been more turned on in my life.
He leaned down and kissed me. Deep. Possessive. His tongue claiming my mouth while his hands roamed my body.
Then his mouth moved lower.
He kissed down my neck. My collarbone. Took one nipple into his mouth and sucked until I whimpered. Then the other. Back and forth until I was writhing beneath him, pulling against the restraints.
“Prime, please—”
“Please what?” He looked up at me, that arrogant smirk on his face. “Tell me what you want.”
“Touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Say it.”
I swallowed my pride. “Touch my pussy. Please.”
“That’s my good girl.”
His hand slid between my legs, fingers parting my pussy lips, finding me already soaking wet.
“Damn,” he murmured. “All this for me?”
“Yes. All for you.”
He slid one finger inside me. Then two. Curling them, finding that spot that made my back arch off the bed.
“You’re so tight,” he said, pumping his fingers slowly. “So wet. This pussy belongs to me.”
“Yes—”
“Say it.”
“This pussy was made for you.”
“Who does it belong to?”
“You. It belongs to you, Prime.”
“That’s right.”
He pulled his fingers out and I whimpered at the loss. But then he was moving down my body, positioning himself between my legs, his breath hot against my core.
“Eyes on me,” he commanded. “Watch me eat this pussy.”
I looked down, meeting his gaze as his tongue made contact.
The sensation was electric. His tongue sliding through my folds, circling my clit, dipping inside me. All while those blue eyes stayed locked on mine.
“Oh God—”
“Not God. Prime.” He sucked my clit into his mouth and my thighs clamped around his head.
He ate me like a man starved. Like my pussy was the only thing keeping him alive. His tongue relentless, his fingers joining in, working me from the inside while his mouth destroyed me from the outside.
I pulled against the restraints, desperate for something to hold onto as the pressure built higher and higher.
“Prime, I’m gonna—”
“Not yet.” He pulled back, leaving me on the edge, my body trembling. “You don’t come until I say you can.”
“Please—”
“Beg me.”
“Please, Prime. Please let me come. I need it. I need you.”
He watched me squirm for a moment, enjoying my desperation. Then he dove back in, tongue attacking my clit with renewed intensity while three fingers pumped inside me.
“Come,” he commanded against my pussy. “Come now.”
I shattered. The orgasm ripping through me so hard I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only feel the waves of pleasure crashing over me again and again while he licked me through every tremor.
Before I could recover, he was climbing up my body. Positioning himself at my entrance.
“Look at me.”
I opened my eyes. Met his gaze.
And he thrust inside me in one hard stroke.
My body arched off the bed, still sensitive from the orgasm, the stretch of him almost too much to handle.
“This is mine,” he growled, pulling out and slamming back in. “This pussy. This body. You. All mine.”
“Yours,” I managed. “All yours.”
He set a punishing rhythm. Each thrust driving deeper than the last. The headboard slamming against the wall. My wrists straining against the silk tie. His hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned. “Taking this dick like a good girl.”
“Prime—”
“You gonna come again for me?” He reached between us, his thumb finding my clit. “Gonna come on this dick?”
“Yes—”
“Then do it. Come for me. Now.”
The second orgasm crashed over me like a wave. My whole body convulsing, my pussy clenching around him so tight he groaned.
But he didn’t stop.
He pulled out suddenly, flipping me onto my stomach. My wrists twisted in the restraints but I didn’t care. Couldn’t care about anything except him.
“On your knees.”
I struggled to obey, my legs weak, my body still trembling from the aftershocks. He helped me, pulling my hips up until I was on my knees with my face pressed into the pillow, my ass in the air.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his hands spreading my cheeks. “Fucking perfect.”
He slammed into me from behind and I buried my face in the pillow to muffle the sounds escaping my throat.
This angle was deeper. Harder. I could feel every inch of him hitting places I didn’t know existed.
“Take it,” he said, one hand fisting in my hair, pulling my head back. “Take this dick.”
“I’m taking it—”
“Louder.”
“I’m taking it!”
His free hand came down on my ass. The slap echoed through the room. The sting mixing with the pleasure until I couldn’t tell the difference.
“Again,” I breathed.
He spanked me again. Harder. Each slap pushing me closer to another edge.
“You like that?” He was pounding into me now, his hips snapping against my ass. “You’re such a freak.” Another slap. “My freak. My nasty girl.”
“Yours—”
His hand slid around to my front, finding my clit again. The dual sensation—his dick filling me, his fingers working my clit—was too much.
“Prime—I can’t hold it—”
“You can and you will.” He slowed his thrusts, keeping me right on the edge. Torturing me. “Hold it until I tell you.”
My entire body was shaking. Sweat slicking my skin. Every nerve ending on fire. The pressure building to an almost painful intensity.
“Prime, please—”
“Tell me you love me.”
“I love you.”
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours. Only yours. Forever.”
“Now come. Come with me.”
He slammed into me one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he exploded inside me. And I followed, the orgasm crashing through me so intensely my vision went white, my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the mattress.
We lay there tangled together. Him still inside me, both of us fighting for air.
After a long moment, he reached up and untied my wrists. Rubbed them gently where the silk had pressed into my skin. Pulled me against his chest and held me like I was something precious.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“More than okay.”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“Only in the ways I wanted.”
He laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I love you, Zahara.”
Lying there in his arms, in his home, after everything we’d been through—I felt something I hadn’t felt in years.
Safe.
But safety was dangerous for someone like me. Every time I let my guard down, every time I let myself believe I could have something good, the universe found a way to snatch it back.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
And I meant it.
That’s what terrified me most.