143

The late afternoon sun dipped lazily behind the hills, bathing the villa in gold. The scent of roasted garlic and simmering thyme floated through the air, wafting from the kitchen where Yalda stood barefoot, stirring the sauce in the pan.

Her silk slip clung to her skin, thin straps slipping off one shoulder, her hair loosely pinned. She felt softer today, lighter. There was something about the villa, something about the people that lived in it, it healed her slowly but surely.

Her mind buzzed with the thoughts of her talk with Ioannis last night. They had talked until sleep pulled them under. About boundaries, curiosity, pleasure. And now, all day, she had been quietly simmering with anticipation, playing back Ioannis's words, his touch, the way he looked at her as though she were something sacred and sinful all at once.

She didn’t hear the front door open, but she felt him the moment he stepped into the room. His presence was always unmistakable, it was warm, commanding, and magnetic. Ioannis stood there, jacket already off, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie loosened. His eyes landed on her and stayed.

"Something smells good," he said, voice low, rough from the day.

"Dinner," Yalda replied, biting back a smile. She didn’t turn, she let him come to her.

He walked behind her, hands finding her waist, lips brushing the nape of her neck. "You smell better."

Yalda hummed as he kissed her. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

They ate in the quiet of the terrace, it was peaceful. He asked about her day, and she told him she’d read, rested, cooked. But it was the glances between them that told the true story. The knowing flickers of heat. The unspoken pull.

When he finished his glass of wine, Ioannis leaned back in his chair and looked at her.

"Are you well rested?" he asked.

Yalda flushed. I am."

"Good," he said, reaching for her hand. "Tonight, we start slow. Just a few new things. Trust me?"

"Always."

~~

The bedroom was dimly lit by the golden glow of bedside lamps. Yalda stood at the edge of the bed, heart racing, watching as Ioannis retrieved something from the drawer. A silk scarf, it was colored deep navy, soft and smooth as water.

He held it up. "Do you remember your safeword?"

They'd talked about it yesterday.

She nodded. "Pomegranate."

"Good girl," he said, his tone shifting, just slightly more commanding, enough to make her breath hitch.

Ioannis stepped forward and placed the scarf gently in her hands. "Tie your wrists for me, love. In front."

Yalda obeyed, fingers trembling as she looped the silk and secured a knot. Her pulse was loud in her ears. Vulnerability spread through her, threaded with excitement. She lifted her eyes to meet his.

He came closer, cupping her face. "You look so fucking beautiful like this."

His voice had that edge now, a low dominance, firm but warm. He was still her Ioannis, but here he was something else too. Something darker. Something magnetic.

"Lie back," he instructed. "Let me look at you."

She lay down, arms bound, heart thundering. He trailed his fingers down her arms, brushing her hips, pulling her slip up slowly to reveal her thighs. Then he straddled her hips and leaned in.

"You are mine to worship," he whispered. "But also mine to tease, to command, to make tremble. You understand that, don't you?"

Yalda swallowed. "Yes."

He leaned down, brushing his lips over hers, then moved to her ear. "Say it."

"I'm yours," she breathed. "To worship and to command."

A low groan escaped him. He kissed her again, deeper this time, then began to trail kisses down her neck, her chest, slow and reverent. She tried to move her hands, forgetting they were bound, and the resistance made her whimper.

He noticed.

"That feeling," he said, eyes dark, "of being held, of not being able to touch me, that’s part of it. Let it build. Let yourself need."

His words crawled under her skin, thrilling her. He took his time undressing her fully, then stood and undressed himself, never breaking eye contact. When he climbed back onto the bed, he didn’t touch her immediately.

"From now on," he said, "you don’t come without permission. Understand?"

Her breath caught. She was back to this? But it stirred her. "Yes."

"Say it."

"I won’t come without your permission."

He smiled, wicked and tender all at once.

He used only his mouth for a while. Kissing. Nipping. His tongue tracing lazy circles on her inner thigh, avoiding the place she wanted him most. She writhed beneath him, gasping, moaning his name.

"Ioannis, please...."

She wanted him so badly.

He licked a path to her ear. "Not yet."

She almost cried out at the denial, but the fire in her belly only grew.

Finally, he loosened the scarf and massaged her wrists, kissing each one. Then he flipped her over gently, guiding her to her knees.

“Look at yourself,” Ioannis said, dragging the full-length mirror closer with one hand while the other gripped her hip possessively.

Yalda blinked at her reflection. Her body was already flushed, breathless from the relentless way he had touched her. Her hair fell in tousled waves, sticking to her damp skin. Her lips were parted, swollen from his kisses, and her glassy and dazed eyes were fixed on the image before her.

Behind her was Ioannis, towering and bare, his body a stark contrast to hers; broad, muscled, and controlled. His hand slid from her hip to her ribs, then cupped her breast, fingers splaying, teasing the sensitive flesh until she gasped.

“You see how perfect you look?” he murmured, lowering his mouth to the nape of her neck. “Ruined, needy... mine.”

She whimpered, her knees threatening to give out, but he caught her, steady and dominant.

“On your hands. Just like that,” he instructed, nudging her legs apart with a firm thigh so she was on all fours. “I want you watching the whole time.”

The stretch was slow but deliberate when he pushed into her, and she moaned loudly and unrestrained. It was deep, and she felt every inch of him settle inside her like he belonged there, like she was made to take him.

"God..." she breathed.

"Feel that?" he said against her ear, the deep timbre of his voice caressed her soul. “That’s how deep I go when you’re like this.”

She managed a nod, her eyes locked on the mirror. Her body trembled as his hips rolled forward again, harder now. Every thrust forced her forward slightly, only for his grip to pull her back.

"Keep your eyes on the mirror," he growled, grabbing both her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he began to move in hard, precise strokes. “Watch how I take you.”

She did. She watched everything; the way her back arched, the way her breasts swayed with each deep push, the way her mouth hung open in ecstasy.

Her own reflection made her dizzy. She had never seen herself like this, raw, lost to the sensation of a man who knew exactly how to touch her.

"You're beautiful like this," he said.

His hand left her hip and slid between her legs, fingers finding her swollen center and rubbing in tight, skillful circles. She cried out again, gripping the edge of the mattress to ground herself.

“Please…”

“You want to come, don’t you?” His tone was dark, teasing.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes, please…”

“Beg me for it,” he said, slowing his thrusts to a maddening pace. “Tell me who you need.”

“Ioannis, please,” she sobbed. “I need it, I need you. Please let me come…”

His fingers pressed harder, circling in sync with each deep thrust. “More.”

“Please… please, Ioannis, don’t stop…”

“Now.”

She broke, her body clenching violently around him as waves of release crashed through her. Her eyes fluttered closed, then snapped open, fixed on the mirror again, on the image of herself unraveling under his hands, his control, his possession.

He didn’t stop.

He chased his own release with relentless precision, his thrusts faster, deeper, until he stilled with a sharp groan, his fingers gripping her hips as he came inside her.

The room was silent except for their ragged breaths. Her body trembled beneath him, still gasping for air.

And when he pulled her into his chest, turning her to face him, there was a soft kiss pressed to her temple, an unexpected gentleness after such primal need.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again.

And this time, she didn’t try to argue.

Afterward, he pulled her into his arms, whispering words against her hair.

"You did beautifully. You’re safe. You’re mine."