The Last Prince of Dahaar(68)
Holding on to the last vestige of control, reining the animal part of him that wanted only to find release, he tugged her up.
Her skin was flushed, her gaze soaked with lust. With movements that lacked both finesse and gentleness, he tugged her panties down and lifted her up against the wall. Her legs wound around his hips just as he thrust into her in long, smooth motion.
Pleasure, so acute that it bordered on pain, rode through him.
This time, he didn’t stop or think. He gave in to the need pounding upon him, the musky scent of her arousal telling him everything he wanted to know.
His orgasm was a breath away, but he didn’t want to ride the wave, not without this amazing woman he had married falling headlong into it with him.
He wanted her to splinter, he wanted to hear his name on her lips, here—in this place of all places—where something inside him had been forever lost, in the one place that stood for everything he was not and that she deserved.
With a voracious need that he now knew would never be satisfied, he pushed her top up until he found bare skin. He tugged the lace of her bra down and found a taut, aching nipple.
He pinched it between his fingers and she came undone. He kissed her mouth, loving his name on it as he pounded into her, their mingled groans and grunts rippling through the air.
Her hands in his hair, her teeth dug into his shoulder, just as he came in a fierce rush of pleasure. She whispered his name just as he wanted and it stole over all the cracked, broken places inside him.
Nothing would fix him, he knew that now, but in the moments when he was with her, Ayaan could almost believe that he was a better man, a man worthy of the amazing woman. Stealing a kiss from her, he righted their clothes and crumpled to the ground.
Leaning against the wall, he pulled her close until she was cradled between his thighs. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her shoulder, clutched her to him tight.
The most amazing kind of contentment ballooned up in his chest that he wondered if he would burst from it. “Thank you, Zohra,” he whispered, his heart beating loudly, loath to fracture the fragility of the moment.
She nodded. He had no idea how long they sat like that. But as minutes passed, Ayaan felt the tight fist of fear this place held in his core relent. Running his hands over her shoulders, he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Zohra?”
“He has had another heart attack.”
Her words were so soft that he didn’t catch them until he felt her shiver. “I will arrange for your transport within the hour.”
“I don’t want to go.”
She turned suddenly and hugged him hard. Her arms clamped around his neck, her face buried in his chest, Ayaan felt a fierce rush of tenderness swamp him. She was hurting and he understood the feral urge inside of him that wanted to fix everything for her.
“I am scared, Ayaan,” she said, breathing the words into his neck.
He frowned at the shiver that spewed into her words. It spoke of a Zohra he had never seen or heard. “You afraid, Zohra? Of what?”
“Of truth, of seeing him, of learning of things that I never let my father say. But I have to ask him this time.”
He held her as she steadied herself, as she found her own strength again. “Remember what you said about truth, Princess? That even in its bitterest form, it is better than the sweetest lies. You have evaded it for thirteen years now, have let the very idea of it have power over you. He could have let you go to your uncle, he could have let you go through your entire life thinking he was dead, he could have easily shrugged off your responsibility, he could have placed so many restrictions on how you led your life. But he didn’t. It is time to face the truth, Zohra, time to see if it can really break you as much as you fear.”