He stared at her.
“You want to see it?”
She shook her head. “I want you to not care about it.”
He hesitated. She thought he would deny her and that would be the end of it.
He paused, but gratingly reached back and pulled his T-shirt off. The light wasn’t enough for her to see it all, but she saw enough of the melted skin on his chest and felt him stiffen. Amaal leaned down and kissed the skin over his heart. Her hands went to his pecs — one smooth, one leathery.
“Do it.” She said.
His fingers went back into her hair. “What did you just say to me?” He tugged.
“I said, do it.”
He smirked. Then left her hair and pushed her to thump back on the sofa’s armrest, holding the cradle of her thighs on his own. Her head fell free into thin air just as his palm landed on her core. She screamed. The best scream, like something released from inside her.
“Quiet.”
He tore the button and zipper of her trousers, shoved the two sides apart and ground his hand on her. Amaal moaned, blinking at the world upside down and trying to fly off whatever plain she was lying on. Another blow landed and she was back, on his lap, feeling his fingers at the very focus of her being.
“Deeper…” she cried.
He pulled out.
“No!” She pushed up and he shoved his fingers in deep, making her gasp out in pain. And indescribable pleasure. “Oh oh… Samar… it’s…”
“Grind up on me.” He pressed his palm down. She tried. She really did. Couldn’t. All rhythms were off. All her body wanted was to release and finish it off. But he pulled his hand back. Suddenly her knees were folded up and pushed apart and he was over her, winding her hair in a fist and tugging her head up — “You do what I tell you to do. Understand?”
She stared — unblinking, needy, whimpering.
“Nod, I will forgive the words this time.”
She nodded.
He kissed her mouth, tenderly, licking her tongue with a smile that she felt on her own mouth. “Listen to me when I am right, Amaal. It will make life easier.”
She shoved at his chest, not caring about his burns anymore so that he would stop caring — “You are wrong most of the time.”
“Not this time.” He shoved his fingers back into her without preamble and she bucked back. He made her buck back more with his fist in her hair. “Ready?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Words are always better.” He nipped at her cheek and let go of her hair, bracing himself with one hand beside her head. And then his fingers thrust into her with a single-minded vengeance. Like they had never before. Like they were driving to go through her. Like they knew where pleasure ended and pain began and knew that they would tease that line without crossing it. Amaal revelled in it all. All thoughts left her mind. All the bad evaporated. Problems? What were they? It was just Samar, his fingers, his breath, his mouth. And then nothing, not even him, as stars aligned and burst into light. It was like her entire body broke the spiral and coughed up months of pent-up stress. And he was there, his mouth on her core, shoving all barriers down to push her back again. She went again. And he kept pushing, kept working, kept using his tongue, his fingers, his entire face to drive her up the universe, screaming her soul out.
And then everything went blessedly quiet.
Only the sound of her panting breath.
She felt him peel her trousers off, then begin to open the buttons of her shirt.
“What are you doing…”
“Quiet.”
Amaal kept breathing with eyes closed, slow, enjoying the after effects coursing through her body.
Her pyjama bottoms were slipped on and she found her body hauled up to sitting. He took off her shirt and her sleeping T-shirt came over her neck. She chuckled, pushing her arms through — “I am not a child.”
