•••
He touches me like I'm made of glass, then shatters me like I'm his favorite sin.
•••
The first light of dawn filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. The warmth of the morning was nothing compared to the heat that still clung to the sheets, to the skin of two souls tangled in power, pain, and something far more complex.
Aamirah stirred, her body aching in places she never knew could ache. A soft moan escaped her lips before she even opened her eyes, only to realize the sensation blooming across her chest wasn't just a dream.
Her breath caught.
Osman, her husband, towering, relentless, and inexplicably tender, was gently suckling her breast, his strong arm wrapped possessively around her waist, caging her like she never imagined and she loves being in his prison. His fingers moved down, finding her thighs, her hips... and then the bruised, swollen pussy of her between her legs.
She gasped, her hand instinctively flying to his soft, midnight-black hair, gripping it as another moan escaped, one filled with both the pain of memory and the sting of returning pleasure.
"Osman..." she whispered, uncertain whether it was a plea or a surrender.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, his mouth continued to lavish attention on her sensitive nipple while his large hand cradled her, slowly caressing the bruised, well-used skin of her core, he momentarily bit her sensitive bud and then proceeds to lick it round. He lifted his head only when he felt her body tremble under his touch, with the required intensity he wants.
Without a word, he shifted her, easily lifting her as though she weighed nothing. He placed her gently on his lap, straddling his waist, his thick and erect cock with morning arousal pressed firmly beneath her bare pussy.
"Ride me," he said in that deep, gravelly voice that left no room for argument.
Her eyes widened, lips parted. "I... I don't know how..."
He slid himself inside her damp heat slowly, the stretch still overwhelming even after last night. She let out a whimper, biting her lip as her fingers dug into his shoulders.
His grip on her hips tightened.
"Look at me," he murmured. "Use those eyes. Let me see all of it, your fear, your need... your surrender and dare to close your eyes."
She blinked, unsure whether it was tears or need that blurred her vision. Her lips trembled.
Osman reached up, brushing her messy hair from her face before giving a soft yet commanding order: "Grip your hair and pull it back. I want to see you."
Her hands moved slowly, shaking, but she obeyed. She gathered her hair, pulled it behind her, exposing her flushed face and bare chest. The movement caused her breasts to lift slightly, and he groaned as his eyes devoured the sight.
"Now bounce," he said, voice rough with restraint.
She moved, timidly at first. Her rhythm was uncertain, hesitant, her body still tender and sore from the night before. But Osman's hands guided her hips, helping her find a pace that sent jolts of pleasure through them both.
YOU ARE READING
𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬
Romance••• "Just because I haven't touched you as a husband should, that doesn't mean I won't," he said, his voice low and menacing. Her knees felt weak, and she didn't dare move from where she stood, his presence overwhelming her completely. She could b...
