Holding her hips down, he pushed into her wet heat with one firm stroke.
Their mingled groans ricocheted in the tent.
Twisting the sheets with her fists, Lauren let her legs go slack. Even having known this intimacy with him, her slick channel was still not prepared for how big he was.
After six years of celibacy, she had flinched when he had entered her that first evening in New York.
Again now, she had to breathe, short, panting bursts, through the invasion of his velvet heat, brace herself for the raw, mind-numbing friction in the walls of her sex.
Skin damp, clenched muscles rock hard beneath her fingers, he exhaled. Something almost like regret lingered around his mouth as he touched her damp brow. “You’re fine?”
“Yes,” Lauren breathed and wiggled her hips. A fist of need twisted her lower belly afresh.
“Come for me, habeebti,” he said, his fingers once again finding the swollen button of her sex.
Lauren curled her legs around his back as he pulled out and thrust again. Excruciatingly slow, he let her feel every inch of him, his fingers relentless in their assault still.
She was sobbing and begging now, pressing his back with her legs, urging him to go faster. Going mindless at the release that hovered just beyond her reach.
Every muscle in his face pulled tight over his features, his jaw looked as if it was set in concrete. She knew his body, she knew what he liked when it came to sex, what drove him crazy. That he needed to go faster, deeper, rougher.
Heart murmuring to a halt, she realized that he leashed himself.
It was the only time she had him, the man in the center of the island he made around himself, the man he was beneath his dedication and duty to Behraat and she was damned if she gave that up because he thought she might break.
“You can’t hurt me.”
A vein flickered in his temple, his gaze filled with a feral hunger. Hunger that he denied himself.
She tried to shift under her him, but he locked her with his fingers on her hips. “Zafir...” she panted, furious that he would deny her. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”
“I know that.” She pushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead, something filling her chest. “But, do you know how fragile you feel to my rough hands?” Another slow thrust followed by their mingled groans.
She drew her nails down his back, the heated hiss of his breath goading her on. “Shield me, if you must, from the entire world, but not from you, Zafir. Never from you,” she said, and then she traced the line of his rigid spine, dug her fingers into his taut buttocks. “I swear to God, if you treat me like this, ours will be the shortest marriage in the history of—”
His mouth took hers in such a carnal kiss that she felt thoroughly ravished. “You will learn to not threaten your husband, habeebti,” he whispered, before he dipped his tongue into her mouth in actions mimicking his lower body. “And you’ll definitely not talk of leaving me again, ever. Yes?”
“Harder, then, please,” she murmured at his ear. His skin was rough silk as she licked his shoulder and then pushed her teeth in.
A hoarse grunt fell from his lips, before he clasped her jaw and crushed her mouth with a savage ferocity that burned her. There was no gentleness to him now, no semblance of control.
He was the man that had made her embrace insanity with a smile, that had made her wild with one kiss. That had made her leave safety behind and walk into fire.
Tilting her hips, he thrust deeper, faster, pushing her on and on... Until there was only him and her and the spiraling want between them...
Lauren screamed as she came in a shattering explosion of pleasure and sensation. Her lower belly quivered, her legs so much mush, her sex pulsing and shuddering with the waves.
With a guttural growl, Zafir followed her, keeping his weight off her even as his powerful body bucked and shuddered above her.
* * *
His breath coating his throat like a fire, Zafir looked at Lauren.
Brow damp, her breathing harsh, she was shaking.
His thighs still tightening and releasing from the aftermath of his explosive climax, he looked down the length of her. The scent of sweat and sex clung to the air they breathed, an explosive mix that he drew greedily into his lungs.
He saw the pink impressions his fingers had left on one hip and cursed. One layer of lace that fell over the turquoise silk beneath, he assumed, was ripped along the seam. Feeling himself harden again, he pulled the dress down all the way to her ankles.
A shuddering exhale left him, his chest feeling as if it was caving in on his heart.
Moving away from the bed, he found a washcloth, dunked it in a pitcher of water and came back to the bed. Gently, he snuck his hands again under the wreck he had made of her dress. She flinched when he separated her legs.