I opened my eyes with a heavy gasp.
It was still dark outside, but the room was illuminated with the strip light entering through the large glass walls.
This was the kind of dark that sits heavy at 2 or 3 a.m., when the city outside has finally gone quiet. The air becomes foggy and lights spread around them.
And I.
I was still wet. Still curled inside Lucifer's arms, one of his thighs wedged between mine, my breasts pressed to his chest, his breath slow and warm against my neck. My body felt loose, and thoroughly used, I was feeling tender in places I hadn't known could ache so sweetly.
A hand carefully caresses my hair and my back.
He was awake.
I felt it before I heard him — the subtle shift of his fingers, circling lazy patterns over the curve of my ass. Slow. Possessive. Like he was reminding himself I was still here.
"Aafreen," he murmured, voice thick with sleep and worries.
I made a small sound — half moan, half sigh.
"You passed out," he said against my ear. "Thought I broke you."
I remembered what happened.
How I asked him to take me.
How I shut my prayers down, and let myself commit this haram again.
I remembered, How much I loved it.
I felt my cheeks burn even in the dark.
"I'm… okay," I whispered.
His hand slid higher, cupping me fully now, and on his other hand his thumb brushing the sensitive skin between my hips.
Then he said it.
Soft. Like a confession.
"I Love You."
The words landed inside my chest like a stone dropped in still water.
My eyes teared up, The words I have been waiting to hear from him.
Ripples. Shock. Heat. I was able to feel everything withing myself.
I turned my face toward him, searching for his eyes in the shadows.
"I Love You too," I breathed.
For one long moment there was only that — our breathing, his heartbeat against my breast, and my heartbeat against his, the quiet knowledge that we had finally said it. That was enough to satisfy us.
Peace.
Soon , my heat took over.
My body was aching to feel him. Begging me to surrender once again.
My hand moved.
I traced the ridges of his abs, slow, reverent, then lower. Found him already half-hard, thickening under my palm.
He groaned low in his throat.
"Aafreen…"
I stroked him once. Twice. Felt him swell, grow heavy in my grip.
He rolled me beneath him in one smooth motion.
Our mouths crashed together — hungry, messy, no more gentleness. His tongue claimed mine while his hands pushed my thighs wider.
Then he was there — thick head nudging my entrance, slick from earlier, from me, from him.
He pushed in.
I moaned again due to the sudden shock.
He moved inside, Slow. Inch by inch.
The stretch burned so good I gasped into his mouth. My nails dug into his shoulders, carving my guilt into his skin.
He was not done yet — deep, deliberate rolls of his hips that dragged every ridge against my walls.
I moaned — continuous, helpless sounds I couldn't stop.
He laughed softly against my throat.
"Your fault," he rasped. "You started this. Now take responsibility."
Before I could answer he flipped us.
I was on top.
Reverse.
His hands gripped my hips — hard enough I knew there would be bruises tomorrow — and pulled me down onto him again.
I cried out.
Pain and Pleasure intertwined together into a unique sense that I never felt before.
And when I felt I covered the base of his thick length, He pushed me out.
His hard Love scrapped the lining of my vagina that was never touched by anything.
I moaned again. Again, due to pleasure.
I wanted this feeling to last.
I pushed myself down again. There was another moan, this time it was Lucifer.
I covered his complete length, and moved up again.
His voice got heavier as me moaned.
"Good Girl!" He complimented me...
For all the praises I received in my life, it was eighter I was being a good daughter, or I was a good student.
I was the happiest when Luci called me a Good Girl.
My ass bounced in happiness with every thrust he guided. He watched — I could feel his stare burning into the place we joined, into the way my body swallowed him.
Astaghfirullah.
What am I doing?
I'm an unmarried woman… jumping on my lover's body… doing things only married couples should do.
Astaghfirullah please forgive me Allah but I want him — I want him so much it hurts.
He flipped me again.
This time face-to-face.
He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand. The other gripped my thigh, hitching it higher so he could sink deeper.
He fucked me possessive. Relentless. Every thrust punched the air from my lungs.
His mouth found my ear.
"This pretty little pussy was made for me."
"You were made for me."
I whimpered.
"Look at how you take everything of me, baby… You are perfect."
The praise kept making me happy and shattering me.
I came again — hard, sudden, squirting around him, soaking his stomach, the sheets.
He didn't stop.
I was shaking, oversensitive, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.
"Bathroom," I gasped. "I need to… clean up."
I was trying to stand up, But my legs got numb.
I fell back down, looking at him, my legs trembling.
"Leave it to me."
He lifted me like I weighed nothing.
Carried me.
The shower was already running — he must have started it before I arrived.
He took me inside the bath.
Walls made of crystal glass.
A modular looking console which was showing the water's temperature with buttons.
The door automatically closed behind him, and water started spraying from the ceiling.
Hot water cascaded over us as if it was washing away all our sins.
We kissed in the slow spray of the shower. A deep passionate kiss.
A kiss that said, I'll never let you go ever again.
Soapy. Slippery. Steam rose around us like a secret.
He pinned me against the cool glass without effort. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, ankles locking at the small of his back. The head of his cock nudged my entrance again — still slick from our juices, from me, from him.
He pushed in slowly this time.
I gasped.
The stretch was deep, full, overwhelming. Water poured over my heavy breasts, down my stomach, between us where we joined. Every inch of him dragged against my walls, lighting up nerves I didn't know existed.
Astaghfirullah.
I'm a bad Muslim. I'm tainting something as pure as water with my lust.
And I can't stop.
No, I didn't want to stop.
He started moving — slow grinding first, just rocking his hips, kissing me under the spray like he had all the time in the world. Then harder. Deeper. Pounding.
My back slid against the wet glass with every thrust. My breasts bounced heavily between us. Water cascaded over my nipples, making them ache even more.
I came again — sudden, violent, squirting around him while sobbing into his chest. My nails raked down his back. My legs trembled so hard I thought they would give out.
He didn't stop.
He kept fucking me through it, whispering against my ear, "That's it… Feel me."
I was shaking. Oversensitive. Crying.
He carried me back to bed, still buried inside me.
This time it was face-to-face missionary.
He laid me down gently, never breaking eye contact.
He held my gaze the whole time — stormy grey eyes locked on mine like he wanted to see every flicker of pleasure, every tear, every doubt.
He moved slowly now. Deep. Deliberate.
Every thrust felt like a promise. Gentle. Loving.
He kissed the tears of overstimulation from my cheeks.
"You are Perfect." He told me.
"You are mine forever." He comanded.
My hands clutched his back. My legs wrapped around him again, pulling him deeper.
I came one last time — softer, longer, a trembling wave that left me boneless and clinging to him.
He followed soon after, groaning my name "Aafreen~" like a prayer as he spilled inside me, hot and deep.
We stayed like that — joined, breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other.
Until his phone lit up on the nightstand.
Two missed calls.
Marcus.
Lucifer ignored them.
Then it rang again.
He sighed, reached over without pulling out of me, and answered.
"Yeah?"
Marcus's voice was tense, clipped.
"Sir, the C-suite is waiting on your response to Chairman Park. The Suamsungu deal. They're pushing harder now — more conditions, more equity. They're threatening to sue for breach if we don't sign by morning."
"And?"
"They found something from Montreal. Photos. Video. They're promising sabotage media leak unless you sign."
My heart stopped.
Montreal.
The hallway outside the suite. The moment I went out of his room.
They had proof.
I was the dirt.
Lucifer's jaw clenched.
He started moving.
His thrusts turned punishing — angry, possessive.
I whimpered, torn between pleasure and terror.
"We'll see about that."
He ended the call without another word.
Looked down at me.
Eyes burning.
"They can threaten whatever they want," he said, voice low, lethal.
"I know what I want."
He drove deeper.
Harder.
"Luci~" I cried his name
I came again — crying, clinging to him, terrified of what came next.
But right then, with him still inside me, still claiming me, I didn't care.
I just wanted him.
Forever.
Even if it cost everything.