The Mafia Boss's Bride

Chapter 99 : The Second Heart - Part Three.

"Trust me, it will be beautiful....sometimes, the most beautiful journeys are the ones we never planned." Ibrahim said.

He traced the line of her shinbone with his lips and his kisses were gentle, soft, reverent. Ibrahim moved slowly, his every touch a silent interrogation, a testing of her boundaries. As he reached her knee, his gaze met hers, a silent plea for permission before attempting to slide up her dress. Ava, caught in the vortex of his desire, could only gulp nervously and avert her gaze, her lips pressed into a tight line. The silence between them, thick with tension, was a language they both understood. 

And Ibrahim took it as her answer, his hand reaching up to slide the sky-blue fabric higher, revealing the expanse of her thigh. Ava gasped, instinctively closing her legs, as if to shield herself from the storm he was unleashing. But Ibrahim, his eyes smoldering with a possessive heat, gently pushed them apart. Her thigh, freed from its covering, lay smooth and pale against the ivory sheets. He ran his fingers over the soft skin, tracing the curve of her thigh. He ran his thumb lightly over the soft skin and it felt like silk.

Tiny goosebumps raised by the cool air of the AC. Despite of her fear, Ava found herself strangely captivated.

Ibrahim slid the dress further up, revealing her lacy shorts. It was the same shade of sky blue. Ava's breath hitched, a small, surprised gasp that escaped her lips like a startled bird. 

Ibrahim smiled, that slow, knowing smile that always left her breathless. He had noticed, of course, this curious quirk of hers – the way her undergarments always matched the colors of her dresses. It was a small detail, yet it held a significance that resonated with him. 

Ava's breath were coming in ragged gasps. She was a captive, yes, but a captive willing to be held, a prisoner drawn to the bars of her own surrender. Ibrahim, his eyes burning with a dark intensity, was the warden, yet his touch held a tenderness that sent conflicting emotions warring within her. 

His fingers reached under the waistband of her shorts. Ava, her eyes still tightly shut, held her breath, her body tensing against the unexpected intimacy. Ibrahim could feel the tremor that ran through in her body. The fabric slipped down her legs. Her hips, bared to the light, were a testament to her strength and grace, rounded curves that held a hidden power he longed to explore.

Ibrahim peeled her short away like a discarded petal. Finally, with a soft toss, the garment landed on the floor. And his breath, caught in his throat, escaped in a silent sigh, a testament to the raw beauty laid bare before him. It was a landscape unmarred by any harsh lines, a smooth haven cradled by the gentle curves of her femininity.

Ava lay still, her eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched against the wooden frame above her. Her breaths were shallow, each one a silent battle against the tide of sensations that threatened to overwhelm her. The vulnerability of her exposed legs, the heat of his gaze, the raw need thrumming within him – it was all too much, yet not enough.

Ava was a warrior princess, stripped of her armor, waiting not for rescue, but for the final blow. Ibrahim's hands again traced the gentle curve of her thigh. He was fire and ice at the same time, a dichotomy that both terrified and enthralled her.

He looked back at her face, searching for any flicker of protest, any sign of resistance.

But there was none. Only the flutter of her eyelashes, the slight tremor in her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.....

Ibrahim's finger climbed higher. He reached the apex of her leg, the delicate, hidden valley that lay nestled between her thighs. Then Ibrahim brushed his fingers against the soft mound, tracing the delicate lips that guarded the entrance to her desire. Each brush sent tremors through her, tremors he felt both in the tightening of her fists and the subtle deepening of her breath.