Scene: No Escape, Still His
Aliya’s head fell back against the seat, breath still shattered from the orgasm he had ruthlessly pulled out of her just minutes ago.
His fingers had been relentless.
His eyes? Possessive.
And now, the car was suffocating.
She reached for the handle.
Zayren didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His hand was still sprawled possessively across her bare thigh, thumb drawing maddening circles near the edge of her damp panties—teasing, taunting, like he knew exactly how wrecked she still was.
“I need to go,” she whispered, trying to pull away.
He leaned back, one arm draped over the seat, voice calm and razor-sharp. “Go where?”
“To the hotel,” she breathed, hating how weak she sounded.
He tilted his head, smiling coldly. “The one I canceled?”
Her heart stopped. “You what?”
“I canceled your reservation before you even landed, Aliya.” He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You really think I’d let you walk back into my life just to watch you disappear again?”
She blinked. Rain slammed harder against the windows. Her thoughts scattered.
“I… I’ll call someone—”
He snatched her phone before she could lift it, screen lighting up between his fingers. “Your parents don’t know you’re here yet. It’s almost midnight. And if I remember correctly, your circle of friends sleeps like the dead.”
She lunged for her phone. He held it out of reach, then tossed it onto the front seat.
“I swear to god, Zayren—”
“You don’t want God right now, sweetheart.” His voice dropped into something velvet and unholy. “You want me.”
She froze as his hand slid higher, pushing aside the soaked lace of her underwear to stroke her again—slow and cruel.
“You’re soaked,” he growled. “Still.”
She squirmed, jaw clenched, trying to shut her legs—but he wedged his knee between them and forced them wider.
“You think you can walk into my life, act like you don’t want me, and just… leave?” His thumb pressed against her clit, making her gasp. “You think you can fuck my head for years and I’ll let you catch a damn cab?”
Her eyes fluttered shut. “Zayren, stop—”
“Say you don’t want me,” he whispered, fingers still moving. “Say it, and I’ll open the door.”
She opened her mouth.
But no sound came.
His smirk was sinful. “Exactly.”
The phone buzzed. Her head jerked toward it—notification lighting up the screen:
“Your booking at Novae Grand has been canceled.”
Her chest caved in. She was trapped.
“Where else will you go, hmm?” he murmured, dragging her panties fully to the side. “Out into the storm? Back to a family who doesn’t know you’re even in the country?”
Tears threatened—but not from sadness. From sheer frustration. From the cruel, undeniable truth of how he still knew her so damn well.
“I’ll drop you home after a few days,” he added, voice smoother now, coaxing. “If you still want to leave by then.”
She shot him a look. “I won’t stay with you.”
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, pushing two fingers into her again, slow and deliberate. “You already are.”
She let out a strangled sound, hips rising off the seat—and he swallowed her gasp with his mouth, kissing her this time, deep and dominating, like he was claiming territory he never gave up.
Outside, the rain roared. The city blurred past as he started driving.
Inside the car, Zayren owned every inch of her—and he knew it.
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