His eyes are bright as he slides into me. He’s so big that it feels like he’s not going to fit. But I meant what I said. I trust him. This is nothing like what happened with Al. This is happening because we both want it. A soft moan leaves my lips.
“Doing good?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We can stop any time you want.”
I cup his face. “Thank you, Jafar.”
Slowly, he rocks in and out of me. It feels foreign at first, but soon sparks of pleasure shoot throughout my body. Reaching between us, he rubs my clit, sending me higher and higher. With his name on my breath, I shatter.
“Fuck,” he pants as his thrusts become frantic.
Holding onto him, I get to watch as Malik Jafar comes undone. And it is a sight to see. His body tenses and his head tips back, lips parted. Right now, he looks like he’s found heaven, and maybe he has.
“Stay right there,” he demands, pulling out of me.
He pads to the bathroom and comes back with a wet towel he uses to wipe between my legs. My face flushes. He came inside of me. It didn’t even cross my mind to tell him to use a condom.
As if sensing my thought, Jafar says, “You’re the first person I’ve gone bare in.”
“Really? Not even Jasmine?”
He snorts, tossing the used rag aside. “Not even with Jasmine.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.” I let out a nervous laugh. “I’m good, too. They, uh, made sure at the hospital.”
Fury flashes in his eyes. But that’s not what I want this moment to be about. Sitting, I wrap my arms around him, kissing his neck.
“Thank you for giving me a perfect first time.”
I mean it, too. In my mind, this is my first time.
Jafar’s eyes soften. “Thank you for trusting me.”
If I didn’t love him before, I do now. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted. But our future is uncertain, so, for now, I will enjoy these precious moments with him. Because sooner or later it feels like the other shoe is going to drop.
22
Ellie
Jafar wakes me up the next morning by going down on me. His tongue swirls around my clit until I’m crying out his name. When I’ve stopped shaking, he moves over me, kissing me.
“Good morning, little mouse.”
Running my hand over his chest, I ask, “Why do you call me little mouse?”
He nuzzles on my neck, his beard tickling me.
“It started as a joke of sorts. Do you know the origins of the word mouse?” When I shake my head, he says, “It’s from a Sanskrit word that means thief.”
I laugh, unable to stop myself. “You’ve been calling me little thief?”
He grins. “Not my best moment. But then I got to know you and I realized the pet name was fitting for more than one reason. You’re timid like a mouse, but equally cute as one, too.”
“That might be the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever heard.” I laugh again. “Little thief. What would that make you?”
He thinks. “A handsome devil?”