Chapter Fifteen: The Night That Wouldn’t End

The taste of her still lingered on his lips. Saba perched over him, her robe undone, her hair tumbling in dark waves over her shoulders. Her eyes burned with something carnal, daring.

“You thought that was enough?” she teased, brushing her fingers over his jawline. “You’ve barely tasted the beginning.”

Ayan’s chest rose and fell as he reached for her, but she slipped away, sliding off the bed with the elegance of a panther. She stood at the foot, her body illuminated by the faint moonlight pouring through the window.

“Don’t move,” she ordered softly, her voice dripping seduction.

Ayan froze, his muscles taut, his eyes locked on her.

She untied the robe slowly, letting the fabric slip from her shoulders, exposing one strap of her satin lingerie. She let it fall back in place, smirking at his groan. “Patience, Ayan.”

Her hands traced down her own body, fingertips dancing over her curves as she swayed her hips. She turned slightly, giving him the sight of her backside, the satin clinging like a second skin. Every movement was deliberate, slow, cruel in its teasing.

He gripped the sheets, his body aching, his cock straining against the restraint she **** on him.

“Do you like watching me?” she asked, her voice husky.

“You know I do,” he rasped.

“Good,” she whispered, tugging the straps off both shoulders now. The silky fabric slipped lower, baring the swell of her breasts. She cupped them lightly, rolling her thumbs over the peaks, moaning softly as though to **** him further.

Ayan swore under his breath. “Saba, if you don’t come here right now—”

Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Or what?”

That challenge was his undoing. In two strides, he was off the bed and on her, his mouth crushing hers, hands tearing the satin from her body. She laughed into the kiss, triumphant, even as she melted against him.

The striptease dissolved into frenzy. He kissed down her throat, nipping, sucking, tasting every inch of her as she writhed in his arms. She clawed at his shirt, yanking it over his head, her nails raking down his chest as if claiming him.

They stumbled back to the bed, bodies colliding, mouths ****. Her lingerie fell away completely, leaving her gloriously bare. Ayan paused for just a heartbeat, staring at her spread beneath him, her skin glowing in the silver light.

“You’re mine tonight,” he growled.

“Then prove it,” she shot back, breathless.

And he did.

Their foreplay stretched into an unending dance — his mouth worshiping her breasts until she moaned shamelessly, his fingers teasing between her thighs until she was trembling, begging for him. She retaliated with her own tortures — nails dragging across his back, biting his lip until he gasped, grinding her slick heat against his aching hardness without giving him entry.

When he finally pushed inside her, it was like lightning striking, a raw collision of need. She gasped, clutching him, her nails digging into his shoulders.

They fucked with abandon, their rhythm wild, bodies slick with sweat. Yet every time climax loomed, Saba would slow, flipping them over, straddling him, controlling the pace, denying both of them release until their desperation bordered on madness.

Hours blurred. They shifted from bed to floor to against the window, taking each other in every position imaginable. Sometimes rough, sometimes achingly tender. Sometimes she rode him slow, drawing out every second; sometimes he took her from behind with furious, unrelenting thrusts.

By the time dawn’s first light broke through the curtains, both of them were spent and trembling, tangled together in the sheets. Their skin glistened, their breaths shallow, their bodies marked with bites, scratches, and kisses that told the story of their all-night war of lust.

Saba curled against his chest, her lips swollen, her voice hoarse but satisfied. “Now that,” she whispered, smiling lazily, “was madness.”

Ayan kissed the crown of her head, his grin exhausted but triumphant. “No, Saba… that was just the beginning.”