My heart was beating fast.
As if it would stop it it went any faster.
I knew what I was doing was against the will and teachings of Allah.
But I craved for him.
I wanted him to see me as a women he loved again.
I wanted to be his.
Lucifer didn't hesitate as well.
His kiss were warm, delicious, like a hot meal in cold winter.
His touch, slowly seeping into my core.
His sweat, blended with the musk scent felt intoxicating.
I wished he wouldn't let me go.
He lifted me from the sofa as though I were a pillow made of feather.
His hands — broad, calloused from years I would never fully know — cradled my buttocks with a tenderness that contradicted their strength.
Each finger pressed into my soft flesh like a vow pressed into skin
I am held, I am owned, I will not leave.
The heat of his palms seeped through the wet fabric, branding me even through cloth.
His warmth sent waves of pleasure through my body.
It made my heart burn.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and he placed his hand gently on my back, pulling me closer.
I felt the hard ridge of him nestle against my clit — a promise wrapped in restraint.
He kissed me as he walked.
Slow deep kisses that tasted of rain and regret and something sweet. I could not hold back myself, I was getting obsessed.
I opened my jaws, welcoming him inside.
His tongue moved like a slow tide, drawing me under.
Tasting every inch of me inside.
He had brought me to the bedroom.
The city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows spilled silver and gold across the sheets.
He laid me down as though I were something fragile and holy.
My wet clothes were peeled away one delicate layer at a time.
The shirt first — cold silk clinging to my breasts before it surrendered.
Trousers next, sliding down thighs that still shook from earlier pleasure.
Underwear last — dragged slowly over hips like a whispered secret being stolen.
I lay bare beneath him, skin prickling in the cool air, heart hammering like wings trapped inside bone.
He stood a moment longer than necessary, simply looking.
I watched the man who had undone my dress.
The shirt parted over shoulders carved by discipline.
Dark hair dusted a chest that rose and fell with breaths he could no longer control.
Scars — thin silver threads — told stories he had never spoken about. When the trousers fell, I swallowed hard.
He was sculpted in ruin and restrained thunder.
Thick. Heavy. Already glistening at the tip like dew on the edge of a blade.
He settled between my thighs like a man returning to the only altar he still believed in.
The blunt head nudged my entrance.
I was soaked — slick with want, with tears, with the memory of every time he'd touched me before. Still, when he pressed forward — slow, deliberate, reverent — the stretch was an exquisite burn.
I gasped.
He was vast. He was home.
Every inch felt like scripture written inside my body: you are mine, you are claimed, you are loved in the places you were told were sin.
My walls fluttered around him — greedy, trembling, welcoming the invasion as though they had waited lifetimes for it.
The sharp pain was travelling through my body, overcome by the pleasure and satisfaction of being with Lucifer.
I felt like the little virgin again, who is getting her purity sullied by sin.
Astaghfirullah…
The word rose automatically, soft as breath.
But I looked up into his face and the guilt faltered.
His jaw was clenched, eyes half-lidded with something close to agony. A storm lived behind those eyes — hunger, sorrow, possession, wonder.
He looked at me like I was the only light he had ever trusted. Like I was both the wound and the healing.
He came closer.
He pulled a pillow and positioned it below my head.
It was romantically thoughtful, He cared for me even though he is angry.
His small gestures, they were they reason I felt loved by him.
And I was in the middle of creating love between me and that man.
I could feel something in my core rising with each thrust inside me.
I felt as if all my sorrows, all my worries and nightmares were being drawn out of my head.
With each thrust I loved him more, and with each thrust I forgot the world.
Now, it dosen't hurt.
I could hear a voice echoing in the room, gasping for air, trying to breath, moaning in sweet a voice.
It was me.
Lucifer slid his arms below me. Holding my shoulders. Stoping me from slipping away.
That is when I felt his complete length.
He was stretching my womb, going to places I never knew existed.
It was as if he was trying to touch my heart.
That something building inside me suddenly broke, I had felt a sense of satisfaction that I never felt before.
I found myself leaking into his bed. I was embarrassed. I didn't know what was happening to me anymore.
A long loud moan escaped my chest.
World around me was getting dark. It was my eyes that rolled back.
And then I looked at Lucifer, He was staring back at me. He saw me peeing as well.
His expression changed.
"Ohh Aafreen— "
He pushed himself closer, putting his weight on me.
His beautiful and warm body was touching and covering me completely.
For that moment, I felt like his property. Someone who existed for his wishes.
And I loved looking at myself that way. I felt claimed. Like I belonged to him.
I was still leaking when he went deeper inside me.
He was Faster, he thrusted longer.
I forgot how to breath, With each thrust inside me I inhaled, and exhaled every time he pulled back.
I was loving what I felt.
The built up heaviness in my heart was created again.
And it broke again with Lucifer's presence.
This time he bottomed out, hips flush to mine, I felt impossibly full — as though he had reached the quietest chamber of my soul and painted it with his colours.
I came.
Ya Allah… I'm coming again while he's inside me.
This is sin.
This is heaven.
My core pulsed around him.
I was overwhelmed.
He groaned — low, shattered, the sound vibrating through my bones.
Then he began to move.
Long, measured strokes that dragged against every hidden place inside me. I wrapped my legs around him tighter, ankles locking at the small of his back. My nails carved crescent moons into his shoulders. Tears slipped sideways into my hair.
"Lucifer…" I sobbed — half prayer, half plea.
"Aafreen— I Love you.."
He kissed the tears away, mouth gentle against my temples.
He said it. The words I was longing to hear from him.
The secret that had been hidden inside my heart.
I moaned high "I Love You, Luci— I Love You..."
My walls clenched around him, trying to keep him forever.
"Love me more.. Please, Love me." I moaned again.
Lucifer did not hesitate.
Faster now. Deeper.
The wet rhythm of our bodies became the only sound in the room. I felt every vein, every throb, every deliberate thrust. I came again — harder than before — crying out, pulsing, milking him with desperate spasms.
Ya Allah… I'm lost. But I don't want to be found.
He didn't stop.
He fucked me through the aftershocks.
Then he flipped me.
On my stomach.
He pulled my hips up and slid back in — hitting places that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
One hand fisted my wet hair — gentle tug, possessive claim. The other gripped my hip hard enough to leave tomorrow's bruises.
He was deeper in this angle, my womb was not able to contain his length.
My stomach had started bulging. The deeper he went, the more my stomach impacted the surcafe below me.
Every thrust sent a shivering sense in my body. Every thrust hit me twice, him pushing inside me and my womb hitting the bed.
I was shaking. Crying. Begging.
He leaned down, mouth at my ear, voice gravel and velvet.
"You are Mine."
I shattered again — vision whitening, core spasming, sobs turning to broken moans.
This time he followed — deep, possessive thrusts, groaning my name like it was the only word he remembered as he spilled inside me, hot and endless and claiming.
We collapsed.
Still joined.
His weight on my back felt like the safest place in the world.
I was crying softly now — not from pain, but from the overwhelming beauty of being so utterly filled, so utterly wanted. My body still trembled around him. I could feel every aftershock, every slow pulse of him inside me.
He kissed the nape of my neck — soft, reverent.
Whispered against my skin.
"You're mine, Aafreen."
I closed my eyes.
Still trembling. Still full of him.
And for the first time in days… I didn't whisper astaghfirullah.
I just held him tighter.
Because right now, nothing else mattered.
Only this.
Only us.
Only him finally choosing me did.