Chapter Fourteen: The Art of Devotion

The bedroom lights were low, the city’s glow seeping faintly through the tall windows. Ayan barely had time to catch his breath before Saba pushed him backward onto the bed, her eyes glittering with a mixture of playfulness and hunger.

“Tonight,” she whispered, straddling his thighs, “I want to taste you properly.”

Her voice coiled around him like silk. Ayan’s pulse quickened, his body tense with anticipation. He opened his mouth to respond, but her finger pressed against his lips again. “Shh,” she commanded softly, her eyes never leaving his. “Let me have control.”

She slid down his body with feline grace, her robe slipping from her shoulders, revealing satin and bare skin that made his chest tighten. Her lips traced a path over his stomach, planting kisses that burned hotter than any fire. Ayan’s fists curled in the sheets as he tried to keep still.

When her fingers teased at his zipper, his breath caught. She freed him slowly, deliberately, her nails grazing along his length just enough to make him hiss. Her gaze flicked upward, catching his expression, and she smiled — a knowing, wicked smile.

Then her mouth closed around him.

Heat. Wetness. Softness. Her tongue curled and stroked with deliberate care, as though she were painting him with every motion. Ayan’s hips twitched despite his effort to stay still, a groan breaking from his chest.

“God, Saba…”

She hummed at his words, the vibration sending a jolt straight through him. Her hands held his thighs firmly, pinning him down, controlling the rhythm. She wasn’t rushing; she was savoring him, drawing him deeper inch by inch, her lips stretched around him, her throat opening to welcome more.

Every time he thought she’d found her pace, she changed it — pulling back with a slow, teasing lick along the underside, swirling her tongue around the tip, then plunging him back into her mouth with sudden heat.

Ayan was unraveling. His head pressed back into the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He couldn’t help the words spilling from him, rough and broken:

“Perfect… fuck… you’re too good… I can’t—”

Her nails scratched lightly at his hips, warning him to stay put. Her pace quickened, the sounds of wet suction filling the room. Drool glistened on her chin, her lips glossy as she devoured him with raw, unashamed hunger.

When she finally pulled back, saliva connecting her lips to him in a slick strand, she licked her lips slowly, deliberately. “Do you know how hard it is,” she whispered, her voice husky, “to see you look at me with those eyes and not imagine this moment?”

Before he could answer, she took him again — deeper this time, her throat flexing around him, swallowing him down until his vision blurred. Ayan cried out, his hands shooting down to her hair, tangling in the silk strands as he tried not to lose himself.

She moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his core, and bobbed faster, her mouth a relentless, molten heaven. His entire body trembled under her control.

At the edge of release, his voice broke. “Saba, I’m close… I can’t hold—”

She looked up at him without stopping, her dark eyes glimmering with lust, daring him. Her mouth sucked harder, her tongue swirling, until his restraint shattered completely.

He came with a guttural groan, his body arching, his release flooding her mouth in hot pulses. She didn’t flinch. She swallowed him down greedily, every drop, then licked him clean with slow, teasing swipes of her tongue.

When she finally released him, she kissed the sensitive tip softly, almost tenderly, before crawling up his body to straddle him again. Her lips glistened with satisfaction, her breath warm against his cheek as she whispered:

“That’s round one, Ayan. And I’m only just beginning.”