I closed my eyes and exhaled.
“I love you too.”
“I need you always.”
“I’m yours,” I whispered, looking up at him, meaning every single syllable.
That was the undoing.
Tariq’s body tensed—like he’d been waiting years to hear me say that—and something wild broke loose in his eyes. He reached down, lifted the hem of my hoodie dress with both hands, and pulled it up over my head.
“No bra,” he murmured, voice gone dark with hunger. “Of course not.”
His mouth was on my nipples before I could answer. Hot, wet, greedy. He pulled one into his mouth, sucking hard while he rolled the other between his fingers, and I moaned, grinding down on his thigh. My body reacted like it had been waiting—tight and wet and ready to melt.
He undressed yo his boxers and dropped into the oversized chair near my window, dragging me with him until I straddled his lap. My thighs framed his, my body arching into his mouth as he sucked and licked and bit.
“Tariq—” I gasped, but it came out broken.
He looked up at me and slid his hand between us, tugging the thong aside with two fingers.
“Already wet,” he said with a growl. “You are always ready for me, baby. Always.”
“Then fuck me,” I whispered.
He didn’t need more.
He freed himself, thick and hot against my thigh, then grabbed my waist and helped me sink onto him. The stretch made my whole body shiver. My hands braced on his shoulders, nails digging in as I took him slow, inch by inch, until he was buried deep and I couldn’t breathe.
“Shit,” he hissed. “Sanaa…”
I rolled my hips and clenched, taking every inch of him all at once.
Tariq bit his bottom lip to stifle the noise that came from his throat—but he couldn’t hold it in for long. He grunted, low and guttural, and his hands flew to my ass, gripping me like I was the only thing holding him to earth.
I rode him slow at first—hips grinding, clenching on every stroke—but when I saw his jaw flex and those eyes darken, I did that trick I knew he loved. The one that made his head fall back. I clenched just at the tip, held it, then dropped to the base fast.
“Fuck!” he growled, teeth clenched.
“Yeah,” I whispered, doing it again. “Give me all that.”
“Sanaa—shit, I’m gonna?—”
“No, you’re not.”
He growled and stood, still inside me, holding me like I weighed nothing. My arms wrapped around his neck, breath hitched, pussy gripping him the whole walk to the dining room table. He laid me flat on the surface, pulling my legs over his shoulders.
And then he started to fuck me for real.
No finesse. Just thick, hard strokes that filled me up and cracked me open at the same time. My back arched off the wood, nails scraping the table, thighs trembling.
He held me by the waist and slammed into me over and over—his name leaving my lips like prayer, my body folding into that sacred rhythm. Tariq moved like he was trying to stay inside my soul, not just my body.
And when I came, I shattered—legs shaking, mouth open in a scream that echoed off the walls.
He didn’t stop. Just pulled out and dropped to his knees like a man worshipping at an altar. He grabbed my thighs, spread me wide, and licked straight into the mess he made.
“Tariq—Tariq—fuck?—!”
