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Isra's POV.
I didn't know why the fuck I was melting into his fake sweet talks. My brain was screaming don't believe him, bitch, he betrayed you once, he'll do it again, but my heart—Goddamn traitor—was whispering something else. Whispering maybe. Whispering what if.
I was sitting in front of him, a decent distance between our faces, but still I felt the fire crawling inside me. A dangerous, intoxicating warmth I shouldn't feel. Was it…? No. No. Not that. At least not for him.
He was handsome. Fucking hell, he was. Those black eyes, dark as night yet holding some silent storm, too goddamn beautiful to ignore. That sharp jawline, sculpted like stone, and those lips—holy shit, those lips—too tempting, too distracting, too fucking sinful. And God help me, I was checking him out.
Him. My enemy. The man I'd sworn to hate. The man who had destroyed my world six years ago. And here I was, my treacherous eyes wandering, my traitorous thoughts spinning filth about him.
Maybe I was losing my fucking mind. Yeah. That had to be it. I needed a doctor. Because how could I, Isra Alvi, think of him like this? He was my enemy. My curse. My disease.
And yet… my hormones weren't listening. Why? Why the fuck couldn't I control myself? I wasn't some desperate teenager drooling over a boy-band crush. I was twenty-one, a grown-ass woman. I should've had better control.
And him? He was thirty-two. Eleven years older than me. Isra, you don't have daddy issues. Right? RIGHT.
But still… he was looking at me, his eyes fixed, unwavering, burning. And somehow, I couldn't look away.
"Kyu dekh rahe ho mujhe aise?" I snapped, my voice cold as steel. I refused to sound like some wet, desperate, panting slut.
"Kaise?" he asked, his tone maddeningly calm.
"Like you'll eat me." The words slipped out before I could stop them, and the second they did, my stomach dropped. Fuck you, Isra. FUCK you.
"Is it what you're thinking?" His reply was lethal. Not a smirk. Not mocking. Dead serious.
"N…no." My voice broke. God, I wanted to punch myself in the face.
"Then?" His tone darkened, demanding.
I didn't answer. Not because I couldn't—but because I didn't trust myself. My thoughts were spiraling, wild and dirty, images flashing in my head that shouldn't have been there. Images of him. His mouth. His hands. His body pressed into mine. Fuck, Isra. Stop.
For the first time ever, I wasn't looking at him with hatred. No venom. No ice. Just raw, shameful desire I couldn't cage.
"He's sexy. You can't deny this, Isra." My subconscious whispered like a bitch in my ear.
"NO." I hissed back in my mind, trying to shut it up.
"Look at his eyes. His lips. So tempting. That jawline—God, He made him for sin." My subconscious mocked, laughing at me.
"Fuck off!" I spat at it silently, clenching my fists.
"Isra?" His voice pulled me out, and fuck, when I looked at him again, something had shifted in me. My eyes weren't holding hatred anymore. They weren't even neutral. They were something else. Something softer. Something slutty.
"Zorain." I whispered his name, my voice dripping with a softness I didn't recognize, threaded with seduction I didn't intend. Or maybe I did. Maybe, deep down, I was testing him. Testing his control.
"Let's see," my subconscious purred. "Let's see how much control he has. How loyal he really is to his so-called fiancée."
I didn't even fight it this time. I leaned in, closing the space, my breath brushing his skin, until my nose touched his.
"Isra, what are you doing?" His voice cracked just a little, still deep, still cold, but this time—fuck—it sounded hot. Too hot. Like gasoline to my already burning skin.
For the first time in my life, his voice wasn't annoying. It wasn't nails on a chalkboard. No, it slid into me like heat, pooling low in my stomach. And God—God help me—I felt myself getting wet.
Author's POV.
Zorain's eyes were fixed on her, burning with a storm he was trying like hell to cage. Desire. Restraint. Hunger. He was a man holding back the devil clawing inside him. But Isra? That little temptress wasn't backing down. Her lips brushed near his, soft and deliberate—not quite on his mouth, just enough to ignite a spark and leave him starving. She wasn't kissing him, she was teasing him, playing a fucking dangerous game she had no idea how to end.
"Isra wh—" he began, his voice rough, breaking. But before he could finish, she pressed her finger on his lips, silencing him.
"Shh… it's just you and me." Her whisper was low, sinful, the kind of whisper that crawled down his spine and set his insides ablaze. Her breath tickled his ear, her lips grazing his cheek in feather-light kisses.
"How are you feeling?" she teased, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness, her lips trailing across his skin like she owned him.
Zorain's jaw clenched. His body screamed to flip her over and devour her whole, but his brain—barely—kept him on a leash.
"You're playing with fire, Isra." His warning came out like a growl, a last thread of sanity.
She smirked against his cheek, her lips daring, her voice smug.
"Didn't you know? I love to play with it."
That was it. The thread snapped.
In one brutal second, she was beneath him, her back pressed into the mattress, his weight pinning her down like a predator claiming his prey. His eyes were sharp, dark, feral—lust swirling in them like a storm ready to rip everything apart.
Isra's smirk faltered when she realized the game had flipped. She was no longer the hunter. She was the prey. And Zorain wasn't smiling. He was starving.
His hand wrapped around both her wrists, slamming them above her head with ruthless control, holding them with a strength that told her she wasn't going anywhere.
He leaned down, his lips brushing hers, his breath hot, his voice low and lethal.
"Should I show you how bad of a monster I can be with you, hmm?"
His tone was ice, but it made her burn. Her thighs clenched, her core soaked. Fucking traitorous body.
And then his mouth crashed onto hers.
It wasn't a kiss—it was a war. A violent, hungry clash of lips and teeth, desperation bleeding into every movement. He bit her lower lip hard enough to sting, forcing her to gasp. That was his opening. His tongue shoved into her mouth, devouring her, taking what he wanted. She fought back, because of course she fucking did—Isra wasn't one to surrender. Their tongues collided, clashed, battled for dominance, neither willing to lose.
But God, the heat between them was unbearable.
His free hand slid under her shirt, rough fingers caressing her stomach, slowly, deliberately, trailing upward. Her skin trembled beneath his touch, her breath breaking. When his hand reached her bra, he didn't hesitate—fingers teasing her back, unclasping the fabric in one sharp motion.
Isra gasped against his lips, and that only made him smirk into the kiss. His palm cupped her breast, kneading, teasing, making her arch beneath him. He broke the kiss and her head fell back against the pillow, lips parted, chest heaving.
He didn't let her breathe. His mouth descended to her neck, kissing, biting, marking. Each suck and bite left a dark bruise, a purple-red claim of ownership. Her soft moans slipped past her lips, messy, uncontrolled, betraying the pleasure she was drowning in.
"Fuck… Zorain…" her voice was shaky, wrecked.
Her hips writhed against him, and that was when she felt it. Hard. Thick. Pressing between her thighs. Her eyes widened for a second before realization hit.
It was his cock. Rock-hard. Straining. Demanding.
Zorain ground himself against her core, his erection pressing right where she was throbbing. A deep, guttural groan left his throat as he felt her heat through the thin fabric.
Isra gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. She felt him—every inch of him—and fuck, she knew he was huge.
Her body betrayed her again, wetness pooling between her thighs, her moans growing needier, her walls clenching around nothing but craving everything.
And Zorain? He was enjoying every fucking second of it. His control was slipping, second by second, and the monster he warned her about was ready to unleash.
Zorain's POV.
I knew the exact second she felt me—hard, throbbing, rock-fucking-solid—pressed against her sweet, clothed cunt. Her body stiffened for a moment, then melted, her heat burning through the thin barrier of fabric. A smug smirk spread across my lips. She wanted to play games? Fine. I'd make her choke on her own damn medicine.
I ground my cock harder against her core, dragging it slow, deliberate, so she could feel every inch of what she was provoking. Her gasp shot straight to my cock, making it twitch violently against her pussy.
My mouth latched onto her collarbone, biting, sucking, leaving red, bruised trails across her skin. Both my hands were busy kneading her tits—fuck, so soft, so perfect—filling my palms, spilling between my fingers. She arched up beautifully, moaning like a sinner begging for mercy.
One of her hands tangled in my hair, pulling, needy. The other gripped my shoulder, nails biting into my skin. Every sound, every movement of hers was a silent confession—she was enjoying this as much as I was. Maybe it was lust. Maybe something deeper. Who the fuck cared? We were already too far gone to even think about right or wrong.
I pressed harder against her, my cock grinding against her little pussy through her clothes, the friction deliciously torturous.
"Are you liking my cock pressing against your sweet little pussy, sweetness?" I whispered against her collarbone, my voice low, filthy, dripping with possession.
Her moans broke into words, her tone raw and unguarded—no tantrums, no venom, just hunger.
"Z… Zorain… don't tease me."
Fuck me. That tone. Begging. Needy. My cock jerked inside my pants at the sound of her breaking down for me. God, I loved this side of her—desperate, vulnerable, not hiding behind her poison.
"Why not? Weren't you the one who fucking started this?" I taunted, grinding into her harder.
Her answer was a sinful moan as she wrapped her legs tight around my waist, locking me against her. Now my dick was flush against her pussy, pressing into her wetness through the barrier of her clothes, and fuck—she was soaking.
Then she had the audacity—the fucking audacity—to mock me.
"I don't think you've got a big dick."
I chuckled darkly, my lips grazing her ear, my cock grinding into her harder just to prove a point.
"You can just admit you're dying to see my cock. You're already dripping from feeling it against your little pussy."
Her retort came sharp, but it only made me harder.
"Fuck you."
God, this girl. Her mouth. One day I'd ruin her with it, make her scream instead of sass. But for now, I'd teach her in the way I knew best.
"I'll fuck you, sweetness," I growled, my voice rough, my cock twitching against her core, "just a little more time."
And before she could smart-mouth me again, I crushed my lips on hers. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tender. It was raw, brutal hunger—the kiss of a man who wanted to consume every fucking part of her. My tongue ravaged her mouth, my teeth pulling at her lip, tasting her, claiming her.
Her moans vibrated into me, her body grinding back against my cock like she couldn't get enough. My hands roamed everywhere—her tits, her waist, her ass—while my cock stayed hard, pressed right where she was throbbing.
Fuck. I was going to lose control. And when I did… she'd know exactly how big I was.
Isra's POV.
God, I was fucking losing my mind. This shouldn't be happening, not with him. Not with the same man who ripped my world apart, who snatched everything I loved. And yet—here I was, spread beneath him, letting him ruin me inch by inch. My mind screamed enemy, but my body… fuck, my body didn't give a damn. My body wanted him. Needed him. My soul was betraying me, and my heart was already halfway gone.
Fuck you, Isra. No—fuck my goddamn hormones.
His cock was huge—I could feel it through the thin fabric. Heavy. Hard. Pulsing against me like it belonged buried inside me. My core clenched just at the thought, hating myself for craving what I swore I'd never want.
After that brutal, hungry kiss, our breaths were ragged, our eyes locked like we were about to eat each other alive. His gaze alone could strip me bare, and then his hand moved—sliding inside my shorts, invading my panties like he owned the right.
In the next second, two of his thick fingers shoved inside me without warning.
"F-fuck," I gasped, back arching, my pussy stretching around him.
God, he was ruthless. Finger-fucking me like I was just some toy to break, pounding me mercilessly, no gentleness, no pause, just raw, unrestrained hunger. I should've hated it. I should've hated him. But all I could feel was lightning shooting through my veins, my walls clenching around his thick fingers, begging for more.
His thumb pressed down on my clit, circling, rubbing, sending shocks straight to my core while his fingers kept slamming in and out. I bit my lip so hard I almost drew blood, trying to swallow my moans, but the sounds slipped out anyway—small, broken, needy.
Then he spoke, his voice dark, dripping with cocky arrogance.
"You can't even handle just my two fingers, sweetness… what the fuck will happen when I shove my cock—my hard, thick, big cock—into this tight little hole of yours?"
God. His words alone almost made me cum. And that smirk on his lips—so cruel, so fucking sexy—I wanted to punch it off and kiss it at the same time.
"I… I-ahhh—didn't know… y-you could be this… filthy with your mouth." My words stumbled out in gasps, broken by his relentless pace.
His smirk deepened, cruel satisfaction dripping from it.
"I'm a man, Isra. And every man turns filthy when it comes to desires. Don't pretend you don't fucking like it."
Then—fuck me—he pushed in a third finger. I cried out, my body stretching around him, tears pricking my eyes at the sudden fullness. My pussy was burning, aching, but god, the pain twisted into unbearable pleasure.
My voice trembled as I tried to fight back, tried to salvage some pride.
"A-aren't you… ahhh… ashamed, Zorain? You're touching a girl who's… f-fucking eleven years younger than you?"
His reply was a blade, cutting straight through my flimsy defense.
"Aren't you ashamed? Moaning, dripping, begging… while getting finger-fucked by a man eleven years older than you?"
Fuck. Him.
My breath caught, my body trembling, the coil in my stomach tightening until I was about to snap. And just when I was about to cum around his fingers, he pulled them out.
I whimpered, glaring at him, hating the emptiness, hating him for denying me. But what he did next… God, it destroyed me.
He lifted his hand to his lips, his fingers glistening with my wetness, and without hesitation he sucked them into his mouth. His tongue slid over them, savoring me, groaning low in his throat like it was the sweetest fucking thing he'd ever tasted.
He licked them clean—slow, deliberate, obscene—as if my arousal was chocolate dripping down his hand, too precious to waste.
My thighs clenched, my pussy throbbed, and I knew—I was fucked. Not just by his fingers, but by him. By us.
Author's POV.
Zorain yanked down her shorts along with her panties, stripping her bare and leaving her completely exposed to his hungry eyes. Her freshly shaven pussy glistened under the dim light, wet, needy, almost begging him to ruin her. He smirked, eyes fixed on her like a predator eyeing his prey.
"Fuck, Isra…" he growled low, his voice hoarse with lust, "you have no idea what you're doing to me."
Isra's legs trembled, heat pooling in her belly. She wanted to fight the pull, but her body betrayed her. Every part of her screamed for him.
Zorain lowered himself between her thighs, spreading them apart, his mouth hovering just above her dripping folds. His lips pressed against her inner thigh first—soft kisses, slow drags of his tongue, igniting her nerves until her hips jerked restlessly.
When his tongue finally touched her clit, Isra gasped so loud it echoed in the room. His tongue lapped over her slit, unhurried, like a child savoring his first ice cream—innocent in motion but filthy in intent.
Her hands clutched the sheets, knuckles turning white as the pleasure surged through her body. She bit down on her lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, but failed miserably when a strangled moan slipped out.
"Z-Zorain… don't—fuck—don't tease me. I swear, I'll fucking kill you," Isra cried out, her voice breaking as the tears of overwhelming ecstasy rolled down her cheeks.
He chuckled against her pussy, the vibration making her whole body shudder. "Kill me after I've tasted every drop of you."
Without another word, he hooked her legs over his shoulders, locking her in place. His mouth worked mercilessly on her, tongue flicking her clit, lips sucking hard enough to leave her gasping, moaning, cursing. Isra was a wreck beneath him, a sinful melody of whimpers and broken pleas spilling from her lips.
"Shit—fuck, Zorain—don't stop—please—" she begged, her voice raw.
Zorain's eyes flicked up at her, dark and possessive, as though he was worshiping and destroying her at the same time. Her tears only fueled his hunger. He devoured her like a man starved, tongue plunging deep into her soaked pussy before circling her clit again and again until she was thrashing beneath him.
"Take it, baby," he growled against her, "take every fucking thing I give you."
Isra's body arched off the bed, her climax tearing through her violently, leaving her screaming his name shamelessly.
But Zorain wasn't done.
The moment her body collapsed, trembling and wrecked, he pulled his mouth away, lips and chin glistening with her arousal. He licked it clean slowly, deliberately, while watching her with eyes so dark it made her shiver.
"Fucking delicious," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before climbing up her body. His weight pressed her down, his erection straining painfully against his jeans.
Isra tried to catch her breath, but Zorain grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her dazed eyes to meet his.
"You thought I was going to let you off this easy?" he hissed, his voice dripping with danger. "No, princess. I'm nowhere fucking near done with you."
Before she could reply, his mouth crashed onto hers—rough, desperate, devouring her cries and moans while his hand slipped between their bodies, fingers sliding right back into her drenched core. She gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders as he finger-fucked her mercilessly, his thumb circling her sensitive clit with brutal precision.
"Z-Zorain… f-fuck—ahh!"
"Say my name louder," he demanded, his forehead pressed to hers, sweat dripping, his voice a growl of authority. "Let the whole fucking world know who's wrecking you."
Her body betrayed her again, her back arching, another orgasm crashing through her as she screamed his name like a prayer and a curse combined.
And Zorain? He looked at her wrecked, tear-streaked face, and smirked darkly.
"You're mine, Isra. Every fucking inch of you."
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