Chapter Forty-One #3
I watched her relax, her hand coming to caress her breast. “The water is a little bit cold; it needs you to keep it warm,” she goofed. “Cause you’re so hot.”
“Very mature,” I stated, finally freeing myself from my briefs; despite my inhibitions about this tub, her body seemed to be all the distraction I needed.
She giggled before she relaxed, resting her back at the tub’s edge and closing her eyes as the water covered her chest and I stepped in, resting opposite her.
My muscles coiled at the feel of being underwater without going under.
I gripped both edges of the tub as if I wanted to jump out at any second.
For a moment, I wanted to, but then Zahra’s head went under the water, and I just watched.
I could see her eyes closed underneath. She was holding her breath but still letting herself go.
I removed my grip from the tub’s edges, letting my hands fall into the water, just when Zahra came back up for air, her hands pulling her hair from her face as she smiled at me. “It’s cool underwater. You should try it.”
“I should have known this was a ploy to drown me.”
She laughed. “No, it’s not. It’s a ploy to tell you that being underwater doesn’t have to be a death sentence. Think about it: You wouldn’t be alive if it were. You would have died the first time your dad tried to ‘baptize’ you.”
I frowned. “I didn’t die because he didn’t want me dead.”
“So why is it a death sentence to you.”
“It’s not.”
She raised a brow, moving closer to me, her legs grazing mine. “Right. But you refrain from getting underwater because…”
“To punish myself.”
She nodded. “Why would you punish yourself?”
“I fuck up sometimes.”
“We all fuck up sometimes, but we don’t punish ourselves in our bathtubs, not unless we’re a little crazy in the head.”
“I’m not crazy,” I gritted.
“But you call yourself a psychopath.”
“There’s a distinction.”
“Is there?”
My jaw clenched. “Is there a point to this conversation?”
“Yes.” She drew even closer to me. “You claim not to be crazy, but your father treated you like a crazy person, and you’re still following his methods. You’re proving him right.”
“Zahra—”
She straddled me, my cock pressing against her stomach underneath the water.
She cupped my face in her hands, clear brown eyes looking directly into mine, wet lashes making them seem like she was in a daze.
“I’m trying to make you see that it’s all in your head.
It’s embedded deep in your mind, and you have strange beliefs and affirmations you were made to believe.
I don’t know how the bastard did it, but I know one thing. ”
She lifted herself, her hand wrapping around my cock in the water, stroking me once before guiding me to her entrance and sinking on my length. My heart pumped faster than ever before; I could hear the sound of the thumping in my ears.
She smiled, her thumb stroking my cheek. “You and I? We’re alike in so many ways. That’s how I know you’re strong; that’s how I know you can’t be scared of getting into a fucking bathtub; that’s how I know that this fear you feel is all in your head.”
My hands landed on her hips as she moved against me, riding my cock in the sweetest way possible, pulling out a groan from me.
“You fell in that pool with me,” she breathed, rocking her hips. “I’m sure as hell you didn’t think about the water when you spoke to me seconds after you came up for air. It wasn’t because you wanted to drown me. It was because you didn’t think.”
My hand moved from her hips to the small of her back, aiding her movements as she rode me, rolling her hips in a circular motion that had my head spinning.
“You were too focused. On me. Not the water. You didn’t punish yourself then. You punished me. Now you’re not punishing me; you’re fucking me.”
“Ah.” My chest heaved out the sound, her tight walls hugging my cock in an intense vise as she rocked back and forth, her back arching skillfully as my hips lifted to meet her strokes, drawing out a moan from her.
Her soft lips kissed the underside of my ear. “The problem here … isn’t the water or the tub; it’s your thoughts, your mind,” she whispered before raising her head and locking gazes with me. “Let me be your only thought.”
She was my only thought; the water and the tub were the last things on my mind.
We were going slow … this moment was therapeutic and intimate. I pulled her closer, her pelvis rubbing against mine as she rode me, feverish breaths escaping both our lips, gazes locked, the lust and intensity in her eyes luring my release.
“Feel me,” she whispered, hand cupping my neck and the underside of my left ear.
“Feel only me, see only me. Forget your old memories from this tub. Make a new one of me riding your cock, looking into your eyes, telling you how fucking pretty they are when filled with lust for me. Only me, only Zahra.”
“Only you.”
“Yes,” she moaned.
My skin heated up, her movement dialing up, riding me with the intent to get off; our lips were parted, breathing through our mouths, said breaths mingling to form the most intoxicating sound I’d ever heard.
She was divine. This was divine. This was everything.
“Fuck, Sport, I love being inside you.”
Her other hand came around my shoulder, hugging me as her hips rocked with mine, a rhythm created by a connection I never thought I would feel with another human being.
I always thought I was a man without feelings. No—I had believed the projection people had imbued in me about not having feelings. I thought it to the extent that it took a great deal to make me feel something—anything.
But right now, all I was doing was feeling.
Her skin melded with mine, a blend that gave the word perfect a run for its money, her moans and mine highlighted to speak languages to the ears of the very element that fueled our attraction.
The thumping of my heart followed the same rhythm as hers.
A rhythm that spelled eagerness, intimacy, lust, and need.
I came with a groan, the same time her hips pressed around me tightly, and her release joined mine, a high we were climbing together, the feeling weakening every bone in my damn body as hers fell flatly on mine, our breathing the only thing to be heard.
This woman had just ripped up a page in my book, taking the liberty to write her own paragraphs.
I stood corrected; Zahra Faizan’s body was equivalent to a serum created to ignite a strong dose of fever into a healthy body.
This healthy body being mine, and this fever, too far gone to be cured.