“Two more things,” he said.
Her eyebrows rose. “Yes?”
“I wish for you to sleep naked beside me,” Muhammad instructed.
“Okay.” His brooding gaze watched her remove the towel and toss it to the floor. “And the second thing?” she inquired.
“I want all of who you are.”
Viviana stilled. Something in the vicinity of her heart wrenched. There he went again, making her feel like he cared. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
* * * * *
Still seated at the table, Muhammad watched his wife’s body repeatedly spasm from under the covers. Viviana made no sound, but even had she not told him she needed to cry he would have recognized that she was. Thirty-five minutes had passed since his wife climbed into their bed—thirty of them had been spent like this. It was fucking heartbreaking.
He was a man renowned for overlooking nothing, yet he’d neglected to anticipate how Viviana would feel about never seeing her home again. He’d known about the death of her parents—that news was in every intelligence report he’d obtained. What he had not realized was she’d continued to dwell in her childhood home all these years later. He sighed. In her eyes, she must feel as though she’d lost her parents twice.
Muhammad’s reaction to the death of his family had fueled an opposite reaction in him. He’d ordered what was left of his former estate burned to the ground so he’d never again have to see the walls that reminded him of his sons. He wasn’t certain if he or Viviana was the foolish one. Perhaps both of them were too extreme in their choices—her for still clinging to the past, him for attempting to forget it.
* * * * *
Viviana awoke on a moan, disoriented and aroused. She breathed heavily as her sleep-addled brain tried to assemble a coherent picture out of what was happening to her. She knew she had come—she just didn’t know why. The pleasure was so intense and all-consuming…
“I do not like for you to cry,” Muhammad murmured against her ear. His breathing was as raspy as hers. “It breaks my heart for you.”
She stilled, the nonsensical at last making sense. Muhammad had made her come—and he was buried deep inside her.
Viviana didn’t resist his long, languid strokes, but instead wrapped her arms around his neck and rocked her hips up to meet his thrusts. Even if things could never be idyllic for them outside of bed, at least they possessed the requisite mutual attraction for passion inside of it. Sex wasn’t everything, but it was something, and she’d never needed to be wanted more than she did right now.
She had fallen asleep with indescribably painful emotions engulfing her. That turmoil had followed into her dreams, forcing them to twist into nightmares. Mental images of loneliness, desolation, war, and chaos. A demon laughing. Her boss trading her for intel without so much as blinking…
Muhammad picked up the pace, impaling her with his cock in fast, hard strokes. She gasped, the pleasure erasing the haunting images. “I wish things could always be like this between us,” Viviana admitted without thinking. Her head lulled back.
“They can,” Muhammad told her, his voice gravelly. He kissed the throat she’d bared to him. “And eventually they will.”
She didn’t think she was capable of completely accepting life on Syrian terms, but she said nothing. Before the Daesh had come into power, Syria had been a lovely country with freedoms it might never again have. Now it was desolate and war-torn, Shi’a Muslims escaping the land as desperately as Christians. Last she’d heard, even most Sunnis were fleeing.
Viviana cast off all thoughts not a part of the here and now. She moaned as Muhammad plunged in and out of her, his animalistic fucking as possessive as it was primal. Her hands fell from around his neck and found his back. He growled as her fingernails instinctively dug into him, scratching his flesh as she groaned out another orgasm.
He fucked her harder, her pussy making suctioning sounds on every outstroke. She gasped as he impaled her cunt, his breathing and muscular tension telling her he was close to coming.
“Hayda kesse,”Muhammad ground out.This is my pussy.
She groaned, her tits jiggling with every thrust. Her teeth sank into his neck, driving him over the edge.
His fucking became maniacal, branding. “A'am yeje ma'e,” he rasped.I’m coming.
Muhammad came on a roar, plunging in and out of her pussy as hot cum spurted from his cock and warmed her insides. Her cunt contracted, milking him for every drop he had to give.
This time when he collapsed next to her and nudged her to sleep on his chest, Viviana immediately complied. Insane as it might have been, she needed to be close to him right now. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with how she felt about the constant chinks he assaulted her armor with.
