THE TRUE KING OF DAHAAR(70)

                He was punishing her. This, tonight, it was not about making love. This was about the fury that was bursting inside him seeking an outlet. And not because he was denying her what she wanted.

                It was mastery over her mind that he craved. And he didn’t leave a doubt. He didn’t need to speak to say it. It was in everything he didn’t say, in the way he wouldn’t even meet her eyes.

                And yet she couldn’t deny him, yet she couldn’t summon the single word no. Because if she did, he would stop. And she didn’t want him to stop. And therein lay his victory, therein lay the prize he was after.

                He pressed his palm at the base of her spine, willing her to yield. And she did.

                Supporting herself on her hands, she leaned over until her breasts touched the marble. Her nipples tightened at the cold, but it was one snowflake compared to the burning flames of her desire.

                She felt his mouth press into her shoulder blade, trail down, leaving wet heat. Sometimes he licked, sometimes he bit the flesh. And every stroke of his tongue, every drag of his teeth pushed her a little closer to the edge.

                “Spread your legs.” His tongue licked the seam of her ear shell, his voice like a silken caress.

                Heat streaking her inside out, Nikhat did. His palm cupped her mound, the heel of it rubbing against the sensitive bundle of nerves within her core. She was panting now, moving her body to a rhythm only she knew, climbing higher and higher. Her forehead was clammy with sweat. His arm wrapped around her waist, he stopped her little movements.

                Her release was so close, she could taste it on her tongue. Her knuckles showed white where she gripped the marble, her entire body shuddering like a bow, ready to fall apart with one stroke.

                But he didn’t give her that.

                He pressed his body into hers until his erection rubbed against her, and she turned her head and looked at him.

                Desire. Anger. Fury. Everything danced in his ebony gaze.

                “Azeez, please don’t shut me out now.” She choked on the words rushing out of her, struggling to say them, fighting to say them right.

                But instead of answering her, instead of shouting at her, instead of flaying her with that wicked tongue of his, he gripped her hips and entered her in one long, deep thrust.

                She clutched her eyes closed and whimpered as her nerves short-circuited and she orgasmed in a flurry of pleasure. His hoarse cry clashed against hers, drowning them in the sound of their mingled relief.

                The waves piled and pooled over her lower belly, and she shivered. One arm over her spine, one around her waist, he held her tight against him until the little tremors subsided, until she could once again feel her body, until the receding waves washed away the profound sense of joy and fulfillment she had found.

                Once again, leaving her empty.

                * * *

                She was laid out in front of him like a feast, and Azeez could see nothing past her trembling flesh, feel nothing past how she felt around him. He ran his hands all over her back, her skin like raw silk under his hands, her body molding to his will and his desire.

                And still, he was not satisfied. Still, the hurt inside him would not abate.

                “Azeez,” she said, whispering his name like a prayer, turning to look at him, her lithe body angling itself beneath him like a bow. He was entrenched deep inside her, willing himself to pull out, willing himself to stop before he created new hurts, willing himself to close the vein that was still bleeding out.