His eyes snapped to the button. She couldn’t see anything in the dark. How could he?
Amaal fumbled with the button and began to pull the zipper down.
“Did I ask you to undo the zipper?”
She froze.
“Take your hand off it.”
Her fingers let go of the waistband of her jeans even before she could process his command.
“Come closer.”
She pushed up his thighs.
“Closer.”
Her lap touched his groin. Amaal gasped at what she felt. She began to reach her fingers to him but the hand holding her hair pulled her back. Their eyes met. Hazy, grainy, in the dark.
“Did I ask you to touch me?”
She swallowed.
“Take off my specs.”
That felt more intimate than if he had asked her to unbutton his jeans. Her fingers shook as she began to bend down. His hand held her hair back in a firm grip.
“Leave my hair…”
His fist wound tighter. She felt her core begin to gush.
“I will not say it again, Amaal.”
She stabilised her shaking fingers and began to descend on him, feeling that tug at the roots of her hair as she reached for his specs and took them off. His eyes darkened. She bent to kiss him when he pulled her head back with his fist and pulled her hips down on his groin with a shocking thrust. She shrieked.
“Quiet.”
“Ohhh…” she whimpered, trying to move over him. He held her hip steady.
“Amaal.”
She felt her head falling back, pleading, forgetting all worldly things, all pride, all ego, all control. “Samar, just…” Her bodyneededto move.
“Quiet.”
Her core was a pulse of its own, jumping, aching, hurting, burning, but not clamping where it should have. She made a noise inside her throat, unable to cry or yell. And he had not even thrust more than once.
Suddenly he pulled her hip down and the teeth of her zipper began to pull on her flesh.
“Ohhhh fu…” she tried to fall forward but his fist held her head back. “Samar, don’t stop don’t stop don’t slow don’t slow…” she panted. “Just like that…”
He held her back again, away from where she wanted to be. She thrust over his thigh, snarling — “Fuck yo…!”
He slammed her down against his groin again and she lost her words, falling forward just to feel him tug her hair.
“Samar…” she cried and her head was pushed down to his until his tongue was thrusting in just as hard as his hips. He cupped her backside in both hands and moved her to his rhythm — fast, hard, messy, unpredictable. And she didn’t even get to anticipate it as everything clamped, harder than it ever had.
“Oohh, ooh, ooohhhggg…” she burst into tears on his neck. “Ohhhhhhhhfffuuu it’s.…”
