The First Collision (Continued)

Amara’s POV

His lips crushed mine again, but this time there was no hesitation. It was hunger—dark, deep, and merciless. My body arched into his, desperate, trembling, yet every nerve in me screamed for more.

I’d never felt this alive.

Alexander’s hands were rough, roaming with dominance, yet when his fingers slid against my waist, he lingered as if memorizing me. The cold, untouchable man was gone; this was someone else—someone burning.

“You make me lose control…” his voice was a growl, his breath ragged against my throat. He bit down, marking me, and I gasped his name like a prayer.

“Alexander…” My nails dug into his shoulders, dragging him closer, as though distance itself was a crime.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes blazing, pupils blown wide with desire and something deeper—something dangerous.

“You drive me mad, wife,” he whispered hoarsely. “And God help me… I like it.”

Before I could respond, his mouth was everywhere—my collarbone, the swell of my chest, down to where my nightdress was no longer a barrier but a chain he tore away. My breath hitched as cool air met my skin, but heat devoured me again when his hands explored like they had every right.

Every kiss, every touch was wild, unrestrained. But between the hunger, there was a rhythm—his lips pausing just to hear me moan his name, his eyes locking on mine as if to remind me: You are mine.

I should’ve been afraid. Instead, I clung to him, whispering in broken gasps, “Don’t stop… please, don’t stop…”

And he didn’t.

The way he entered me was fierce, claiming, a collision of pain and pleasure that ripped a gasp from my throat. My body tightened around him, fire exploding through my veins. His forehead pressed to mine, his jaw clenched as though even he was fighting not to unravel.

“Amara…” he groaned, my name breaking from him like a confession.

Tears pricked my eyes—not from fear, but from the overwhelming storm inside me. No one had ever touched me like this. No one had ever made me feel like I was both fragile and powerful in the same breath.

My moans filled the room, mingling with his growls, our bodies moving in frantic rhythm, sheets twisting beneath us. His pace was wild, desperate, but then it softened—slower, deeper, deliberate, as though he wanted to carve himself into me.

“You’re not just my wife,” he rasped, his lips brushing mine, “you’re my damnation, Amara… and I’ll burn in you forever.”

The words shattered something inside me. I cupped his face, kissing him with all the fire, all the defiance, all the love I’d hidden behind innocence.

“Then burn with me, Alexander… because I’ll never let you go.”

And with that, the last walls between us crumbled. We were no longer strangers forced into marriage. We were flames—wild, consuming, inseparable.

The night became endless, a blur of moans, whispered names, and bodies tangled until there was no him and me—only us.

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