Chapter Thirty-Five
Elio
I was thinking with my dick.
I never think with my dick. I never think or use the word dick. It was no consternation that I was gone. Too far gone into whatever fog the thought of Zahra brought to my head.
My thought process around the time I’d set those rules could be considered laughable at this very moment. Zahra Faizan wasn’t a woman you could touch once and be satisfied. She was slow poison, sinking and slipping into your veins with an alluring sensation that could turn any active brain to mush.
Unfortunately, I’d fallen victim to this sensation.
When she entered the plane earlier, my mind had already predicted that she would come in disguise.
I never thought she would arrive without one.
It took me by surprise. I couldn’t help but stare like I’d never seen a beautiful woman.
God … from that moment, I knew I was done for.
Her hair had been styled so beautifully.
I relished the feeling of sinking my fingers into the mild curly waves, getting my fill of its fullness and softness, melting into the abyss of how beautiful it smelled, and then pulling until her neck craned and became mine to kiss, lick, and suck until I bruised her clear skin.
The flight had been spent with me fighting a battle with my mind, my brain, and my hand; and back there at that dinner table, I allowed Zahra to touch me, which was the most unprofessional I’d ever been.
Zahra had woven her webs so thick around the body of my mind. I couldn’t help but compare every woman in there to the one by my side. It was absurd. I do not compare women. I do not spend time letting my thoughts control me, but apparently, my common sense had vacated.
I let her touch me.
I wanted her to touch me.
Back at that table, I knew nothing else but the warmth of her hand on my thigh.
That simple touch ignited a fire inside of me. One I couldn’t control, one that had made me envision myself pulling her with me to a place where no one would catch a glimpse of her bare skin when I fucked that attitude right back to a place she’d never be able to reach.
These thoughts were very foreign. They had never once grazed my mind when it came to other women.
I thought I was mad, but Zahra Faizan was driving me to the brink of what absolute madness felt like.
Now I was hard, uncomfortable, and frustrated.
I pushed into the men’s washroom. Thankfully, it was empty. I had to calm down, get my head in order, and hope for the erection Zahra had coaxed to settle.
I walked to the sinks and shrugged off my coat before placing it on the neighboring sink.
I knew exactly what to do to get myself back in control. The only massive turn-off I could ever get was the sight of myself.
Not the best method, but I needed to start thinking with my head and not my—
The door opened, drawing my attention from the mirror to the last person I needed in my presence right now.
The witch wore a sly smile as she closed the door behind her and leaned on it, both hands behind her in an innocent pose, bottom lip tucked under her teeth.
I clenched my jaw; the sight of her tightened the knot in my chest, and the strain in my pants.
Control.
Control, Marino.
She released her bottom lip, drawing my attention to its flush redness.
“Hi there,” she said with a taunting smile, her eyes flickering to my crotch and back to me. “Got anything I could help you with?”
“No. Get out.”
Her smile drew up as she leaned away from the door, twirling left and right with hands behind her as she walked towards me.
“You don’t really mean that,” she said.
“Get out, Zahra; this is the men’s washroom,” I said, my eyes flickering to the door, knowing anyone could walk in at any second.
“I don’t mind.” She smiled.
“I mind,” I gritted out.
Instead of leaving, she advanced towards me.
“Leave, Zah—”
She pressed her palm flat on my chest.
Her touch charged warmth down my stomach, straight to my cock. I wanted her to touch me. But not here … not here.
Her eyes were bright with lust, and seduction, embodied with a dark pull that made her pupils dilate. I was 100 percent positive I mirrored the desire on her face, but this wasn’t—
Her hand ran down my chest, down to the hard ridges of my stomach. My muscles tensed against her purposeful exploration.
I swallowed.
“Leave, Zahra.”
“No.”
Her hand glided up from my stomach to my chest in defiance as she brushed past my shoulders, and then I felt her fingers smooth past the side of my face before burying themselves inside my hair.
I bit back the hum of relief from her soft touch against my scalp.
She massaged gently, eyes searching between mine. “Let me kiss you.” Her voice at this moment could be compared to that of a siren song, compelling men to do her bidding.
Control … control.
“No,” I said.
Her gaze flickered to my lips as she pressed her body to mine. “But I want to.”
“And I want you to leave.”
“Do you?” she asked, her fingers tightening their hold on my hair; not too much, just enough to pull me down so that we breathed the same air. “Do you really, Elio?”
“Ye—yes.”
Her eyes narrowed in amusement. “You don’t sound so sure.”
A strained noise rumbled from my chest, my control on the verge of slipping. “Why are you doing this?”
Her hold softened on my hair, her other hand trailing up my arm with her index finger. “Because, Elio, I want nothing more than to see you lose yourself in pleasure.”
“Zahra—”
“I want to please you.” She leaned up, bringing her lips to the underside of my ear. I first felt the warm wetness of her tongue before her lips closed around my skin, sucking on a kiss that sent shock waves down to my hard length, still locked inside the strain of my briefs.
I clenched my jaw hard.
“You’re so tense,” she whispered.
Her hand, which had been trailing up my arm, went back down as it disappeared between us. She rubbed against the bulge lining my pants before bringing her gaze to mine. “Let me help you.” Her fingers moved up to my belt in an attempt to undo it.
I held the left side of her hip, a move I made to push her away from my body, but I found myself pulling her closer.
“No,” I rasped.
“Give in, Elio.”
“No.”
I let her undo my belt buckle, her eyes still on me as she said, “You’re so hard; let me fix it.”
“You fucking caused it.”
“I merely touched you; you got hard because your body clearly needs the relief.” She unzipped me, and I groaned closed-mouthed when she palmed me, her sinful eyes peering up at me. “A relief only I can give.”
She carefully rubbed me, and my forehead settled against hers, my breathing feverish. “You undo me, Zahra.”
With hooded eyes and wet lips, she swallowed. “I like that.”
“Anybody could walk in,” I said.
“Even better. Imagine the mayor walking in and getting a show of me sucking your cock?”
That should have turned me off, but I grew rock solid against her touch.
Her eyes widened. “Oh shit, you like that, don’t you? The thought of getting caught?” She grinned. “You big whore.”
“You little slut.”
She chuckled softly, the sound bouncing inside my chest. “Now, now, slut-shaming is bad.”
“So it’s okay when you do it?”
“Are you admitting you’re a whore?”
“Zahra,” I warned, and my breathing mirrored the pace at which my heart worked. “We shouldn’t—”
“Come on, don’t you love the thrill?”
Frustration stained my feelings red. “Fuck, Sport, this is unethical, it’s risky, it’s stupid—”
Her hand left the inside of my hair as she smirked. “Live a little.”
And then she pushed me lightly until my back was against the sink, and she was going down to her knees, separating the slit on her dress for easy settlement; then the little witch smiled up at me from underneath her lashes.
Beyond sinful.
She looked back down; anticipation sizzled through me, but I still managed to catch the slight tremor in her fingers as she moved.
I reached down, putting a finger under her chin and lifting it so she could look at me.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” She gulped, shaking her head. “No, I’m dying to. I’ve been dying to since that time in the woods when I suggested it,” she said, and I let her be.
I felt her fingers on me, and then she let me out of my briefs.
I watched her take in my size, her lips parting as she looked up at me. “How do you have a pretty face and a fucking pretty—” She looked back down, and my breathing grew ragged as she held me. “Fuck me, you’re—you’re huge.”
“You don’t have to voice it. I am not blind.”
I bit my tongue at the sensation of her soft palm trying to encircle me—it made the heat not enough, but at the same time, drove me to the edge.
“Not too late to turn back,” I told her.
“You should know by now that I take everything as a challenge,” she said breathily, the heat from her mouth bathing my hard length, and I wanted inside that mouth.
I’d never longed for anything more than the wet heat her mouth would provide to my cock.
She stroked me once, and then I caught her pink tongue strutting out of her mouth, licking from the base of my length to the tip, which leaked out pre-cum.
When was the last time I had relief or gratified myself sexually—I couldn’t remember—but right now, I was a starved man, and I needed that relief she so wanted to give me.
She locked her gaze with mine as she spread the pre-cum against my shaft, seeking easier friction, and then she licked me, taking her time, teasing me.
My mind had shoved the thoughts of being caught to a place where it didn’t bother me but made the act even more daring.
Her thumb brushed the slit at the head of my cock, and I groaned, my hand smoothing her hair from the side of her face as I held it at the back of her head. I didn’t pull.
“Is this okay?” I asked.
“Anything you do is okay,” she said.
“I—”
She spat against the head of my cock, and her tongue and hand worked the lubrication around my shaft.
Edging me.
“We do not have time for foreplay, Zah—”
Her mouth covered me.