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.

His fingers, imbued with a reverence that bordered on awe, traced the delicate folds of her flesh, mapping the contours of her secret haven. The soft petals, barely parted, responded to his touch with a hesitant bloom, a shy tremor that spoke volumes of her awakening desire. 

With a slow, almost reverent motion, he parted the lower lips, his fingertips a feather-light caress against the moist, silken skin. And then he slipped his fingers further inward....a soft whimper escaped Ava's lips, a sound he cradled in his heart like a precious pearl. It was a sound of both fear and surrender, a confirmation that he was indeed her anchor, the storm she was willing to weather, the tide she was ready to ride. As his fingers moved deeper, scraping the wet walls with a rhythmic dance, the fear gradually melted away, replaced by a flood of sensations that washed over her in waves.

Ava's teeth clenched, a silent struggle against the wave of pleasure that threatened to consume her. Her legs tensed, then relaxed. His finger, a daring explorer, traced the contours of her most intimate terrain, sending shivers down her spine and a whimper escaping her lips. The sensation tightened her muscles, a desperate attempt to hold back the tide of ecstasy threatening to engulf her. The feeling was too foreign for her.

The walls, once tight and unyielding, now yielded to his touch, like a melody responding to the touch of a maestro's hand. He scraped, he caressed. 

As he traced her inner folds, his mind drifted back to the coffee shop in Malacca, to the playful promise he'd made – to give her his signature. And in this moment, in the hushed intimacy of their bedroom, he was doing just that. He was signing his name - Ibrahim Rahman - on the canvas of her soul, not with ink, but with a touch, "Remember! Once I said I'll give you my autograph... somewhere personal?"

And Ava never imagined his signature would come in this form. She thought, she really didn't understand Ibrahim too much..... She really didn't get the meaning of his words. 

He moved his finger in circles, a slow, languid dance that mimicked the rhythm of her heart. He was claiming her, not just physically, but emotionally, leaving his mark on her soul with each brush, each caress. This wasn't just about possession; it was about connection, about forging an intimacy beyond the confines of flesh and bone.

Between the slick walls, a fire ignited. The throb within her lower stomach intensified. 

Ibrahim leaned closer to her face, his body a furnace against hers, his breath a hot caress on her cheek. "Baby girl," he murmured, his voice husky with a barely contained hunger. "Feel it? The way it throbs? It's the same rhythm as your heart, isn't it? This, here, this is your second heart."

Ava blinked, her eyes fluttering open like dazed butterflies. His words, cryptic yet strangely evocative, washed over her in a dizzying wave. Her second heart? Did he just want to do fingering? To make her inside throb like that. And Ibrahim was right. The area was really throbbing just like her heart. 

"I ... re... really don't un... understand you." Ava stammered in low murmur. Her eyelids fluttered, then closed tighter, her lips parting in a soft gasp. 

The second heart, the one he spoke of, wasn't a heart, a physical location. It was the spark he ignited within her, the echo of his own desire. Ibrahim took her confusion as an invitation, a silent plea for more. He slid his second finger inside. Ibrahim kneaded, he swirled, his fingers painting circles on the map of her pleasure. 

And Ava's breath again caught in her throat, opened her eyes one moment, only to close them the next. She couldn't able to feel his gaze. Her soft moans escaped from her lips as Ibrahim moved his hand up and down. As he continued to massage her clitoris, she started to write against the bed, wher body writhing with pleasure.

Ava was drowning, lost in a sea of swirling emotions, her body a vessel being swept away by the tide of his desire. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was a strange sense of peace. Her moans become louder and more intense and she started to pant heavily when she reached the peak of her orgasm.

And then, it happened. With a final, shattering gasp, Ava reached the peak, a supernova of sensation exploding within her. Her world went supernova, a kaleidoscope of light and color swirling behind her closed eyes. She felt it, a warm rush, a white blossom against the crimson depths of her pleasure.

Ibrahim felt it too. He withdrew his hand. The white liquid etched on his damp fingers. He brought them to his nose, inhaling the delicate scent.... A curious smile danced on his lips as he inhaled. 

"Cunning," Ava blurted.

Ibrahim met her gaze, "Maybe a little," . Then he winked before rising from the bed and heading towards the bathroom to wash his hands.

Then he returned in a minute, hands glistening with water, a grin still playing on his lips. Crossing the room, he knelt before her on the bed, gently reaching for the leather cuffs binding her wrists to the wooden frame. The click of the locks being released echoed in the room.

But the freedom felt hollow. Ava watched him, a flicker of confusion stirring within her. Had that been it? Had he reached his peak within her own release, leaving her dangling on the precipice of unfilled desires Actually She expected more. Ava quickly sat up and lowered her dress over her bare thighs.

"Was that it?" she murmured, her eyes searching his face for an answer. "Was that all you wanted? Just... that?"

Ibrahim chuckled softly. He pinched her cheek playfully, "Patience, baby girl. I want everything. But what I want most is for you to want it too. For when you tell me you're ready, for when you whisper my name and beg for release, then you'll see just how much I can give you."

Did Ava have the strength to voice her desires? Did she she have the courage to tell him that she was ready, that she wanted to explore the depths of this newfound connection with him? God knows when she would find the words, she thought 

He saw the blush blooming on her cheeks, the shyness clouding her eyes. "Don't overthink it," he whispered, cupping her face in his warm hands. His lips brushed her cheek, "Enjoy the rest of the day, alright? I have to go to the office." 

A pout momentarily settled on her lips. "Can't you…" she started, her voice trailing off as she met his unwavering gaze. "Can't you take the day off?"

He shook his head, a touch of regret softening his features. "Sorry, baby girl. A boss has responsibilities. But I promise, I'll be back before you know it."

A resigned sigh escaped her lips. "Alright," she said, a note of understanding softening her tone. "But," she added, "bring me ice cream after work."

"Ice cream? You know there's a whole penalty ice cream section in the refrigerator, right?" Ibrahim told. 

Ava shook her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "No. I want you to bring it. Just for me."

Ibrahim threw back his head, laughing. He never expected that Ava would request something like that, "Alright, baby girl. I can buy the whole market for you if that's what it takes to keep you smiling."

Ava's grin widened. This moment felt perfect. She wished time would stand still. This, right here..... right now. But in reality Time doesn't stop for anyone. It flows and flows and flows.