Samir took his time dressing them, his movements slow and measured, as if savoring every moment. He slid Arielle’s gown over her shoulders, smoothing the fabric down her trembling body, his fingers brushing against her bare skin longer than necessary. She shivered at the deliberate slowness of it all, at the dark intensity in his eyes that promised this night was far from over.
Once she was fully clothed, he did the same for himself, fastening his buttons with an effortless grace that only made Arielle’s pulse race harder.
Then, he took her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Go to the bathhouse,” he murmured, his voice a soft command. “No one will be there until noon tomorrow. I want you waiting for me.”
Arielle swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
“How do I find it?” she whispered.
Samir smirked. “You’ll know when you see it.”
With that, he stepped back, watching her as if waiting for her to move first.
Arielle hesitated only for a second before turning, walking away with slightly unsteady steps. She was still sore from the last time he had taken her, and the dull ache between her thighs made her body hyper aware of every movement. She knew he was watching her as she limped toward the exit, and the thought alone sent a warm shiver through her.
She stepped into the dimly lit corridors of the Vault, following winding hallways that seemed to stretch endlessly. Despite the grandeur of the place, silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant flicker of candlelight guiding her forward.
Then she found it. The candlelit bathhouse.
The moment Arielle stepped inside, she sucked in a breath.
The room was breathtaking.
Soft, golden light flickered from hundreds of candles placed along the stone walls, giving the space a warm, welcoming glow. A large, sunken pool of crystal-clear water stretched in the center, its surface rippling gently as if inviting her in. The air smelled of jasmine and sandalwood, an intoxicating mix that made her feel lightheaded in the best way. Steam curled above the water, creating an almost dreamlike haze.
She took slow steps forward, running her fingers along the smooth marble edges of the pool. The entire bathhouse felt ancient, like something out of a lost era— mystical and untouched. She had never seen anything like it.
Arielle reached the middle of the bathhouse, standing at the very edge of the water, entranced by the way the candlelight shimmered across its surface. The silence was thick, almost sacred, wrapping around her like a whispered secret.
Then, she felt it.
A presence.
The air shifted behind her, and she knew— before even turning— that Samir had arrived.
Arielle’s breath hitched as she slowly turned.
He stood in the archway, leaning against the stone frame as he watched her. The candlelight cast shadows over his sharp features, making him look even more devastatingly handsome. His dark eyes roamed over her, taking in every inch of her form with a slow, consuming gaze.
“You found it,” he said softly, stepping forward. “Just as I thought.”
Arielle nodded, her voice caught in her throat.
Samir didn’t stop walking until he was right in front of her. He reached out, trailing his fingers down the curve of her jaw before tilting her face up to his. His thumb brushed against her lower lip, a silent tease.
Then he kissed her.
It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t desperate.
It was slow— deep. Like a promise.
Arielle melted into him, her hands gripping his shirt as his mouth moved against hers, tasting, claiming, unraveling her all over again. His lips were warm, soft yet firm, coaxing her deeper into the moment.
When he finally pulled away, he didn’t say a word.
Instead, he began to undress her.
His hands moved with excruciating slowness, untying the laces of her gown, peeling the fabric away inch by inch. He took his time, letting the gown slip down her shoulders, baring her skin to the candlelight. The warm glow made her look like something out of a dream, all soft curves and flushed warmth.
Samir stepped back slightly, his eyes darkening as he took her in.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
Arielle’s breath came in shallow pants as he continued, sliding the rest of her dress down until it pooled at her feet. He traced his fingers along her sides, down to her hips, before undoing the last piece of fabric between them.
She stood before him, completely naked, the warmth of the bathhouse kissing every inch of her exposed skin.
Samir let out a low, almost reverent curse.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he began to undress himself.
Arielle watched, her heart hammering, as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the hard lines of his chest, the sculpted strength beneath. She had seen him bare just a few minutes ago, but here, under the golden candlelight, he looked almost unreal— every inch of him carved with purpose, with control. What was she thinking when she thought he could be under her command?
His shirt slipped off, joining the discarded clothing at their feet. Then, he worked on his belt, his gaze never leaving hers as he undid the buckle, sliding the leather free with deliberate ease.
Arielle’s lips parted, her body thrumming with anticipation as he pushed the rest of his clothing away, baring himself to her.
The moment stretched between them, thick with heat and something deeper— something unspoken.
Then, finally, Samir reached for her again.
But this time, he was leading her into the water.
The moment Samir led Arielle into the pool, the warm water wrapped around her like silk, sliding against her bare skin in delicate waves. The bath was deeper than she expected, rising just below her chest as she waded forward, her fingers skimming the water’s surface. Steam curled in the air, thick and heady, mixing with the soft golden glow of candlelight.
Samir moved behind her, his presence a dark heat against her back. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice a velvety rasp against her ear.
Arielle wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of the bath or the slow, lingering way his hands ghosted over her hips, fingertips barely grazing her wet skin.
“Maybe,” she whispered, tilting her head slightly as he kissed the curve of her neck. His lips were warm, damp from the water, and when he pulled back, she could still feel the heat of him lingering there.
She turned to face him.
Samir stood before her, the candlelight catching on the water droplets clinging to his sculpted chest. His dark hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, and his gaze burned with something primal, something that made Arielle’s breath hitch.
“You’re so stunning,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent.
Arielle’s lips parted, but before she could reply, Samir’s hands found her waist, guiding her back against the smooth marble edge of the pool. His palms were firm, deliberate, pressing against her body with an intimacy that sent shivers rippling through her.
She gasped as his fingers slid lower, tracing over her stomach before dipping just beneath the water’s surface. “Tell me what you want,” he coaxed, his mouth brushing the sensitive skin beneath her jaw.
Arielle’s pulse fluttered wildly. “You,” she whispered.
Samir’s smirk was dark, knowing. “Then take me.”
Arielle’s breath came in shallow pants as she reached for him, running her hands over the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, the way the water dripped down his body in lazy rivulets. She felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips, fast and strong.
Her hands drifted lower.
Samir let out a sharp breath when her fingers curled around his half-hard cock beneath the water. His head dropped forward, resting against her shoulder as his hands tightened around her waist. “You’re playing with fire, darling,” he groaned, voice thick with restraint.
Arielle smiled, tilting her head slightly so her lips brushed his ear. “Maybe I want to burn.”
Samir let out a low, rough chuckle before pulling back to look at her. His dark eyes were filled with something dangerous, something intoxicating.
Without warning, he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. The water sloshed between them, heated and restless, mirroring the pounding in Arielle’s chest.
She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as his lips found hers— deep, consuming, a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.
Samir’s hands roamed over her back, tracing every dip and curve, as if memorizing the shape of her. His fingers tangled in her wet hair, tilting her head back so he could drag his mouth down her throat, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin at the base of her neck.
From our workshop
Arielle gasped, arching into him.
“Mine,” Samir murmured against her skin, his voice thick with possession.
She shuddered at the raw intensity in his tone. “Yours,” she breathed.
His hands explored every inch of her beneath the water— fingertips gliding down her back, over the swell of her hips, between her thighs, inside her pussy, teasing, learning what made her shudder, what made her moan. He was slow, deliberate, savoring the way she melted against him.
And Arielle returned the exploration in kind.
Her lips traced along his collarbone, down his chest, her fingers mapping out the firm ridges of his muscles. She wanted to memorize him, to know every inch of him the way he was learning her.
Samir groaned when her nails scraped lightly down his spine. “You drive me insane,” he muttered against her shoulder.
Arielle smirked, tilting her head to meet his gaze. “Good.”
His laughter was deep, vibrating through his chest. “Little tease,” he murmured before capturing her lips again.
But this time, the kiss wasn’t just desire— it was something deeper.
A confession?
A promise?
Arielle didn’t know, but she felt something in the way his hands held her, in the way his lips moved against hers, in the way their bodies fit together so perfectly.
Samir pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers. “I don’t want to want you this much,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But I do. I want you so fucking much.”
Arielle’s breath caught.
“Then don’t stop,” she whispered.
Samir let out a soft curse before kissing her again— deep, slow, unrelenting.
And they stayed like that, tangled in the warmth of the water, in the glow of candlelight, in each other.
~
Eventually, Samir scooped her into his arms, lifting her bridal style from the water. Arielle let out a small gasp, clinging to him as he carried her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing.
“Samir—”
“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her damp temple. “Let me take care of you.”
She sighed, melting against him.
Samir stepped out of the bath, the cool air biting against their wet skin, but he didn’t stop. He carried her through the corridors of the Vault, moving with the confidence of a man who owned everything he touched— including her.
Then, they passed the host.
Lucian leaned against the doorway of a dimly lit hall, his sharp gaze flickering over them with amusement. His lips curled into something knowing, something smug.
Samir didn’t stop walking. He simply smirked at Lucian, a silent declaration, a victory.
Lucian chuckled, shaking his head. “Enjoy yourselves,” he mused.
Samir didn’t even glance back. “We already did.”
Arielle’s face burned, but she hid her smile against Samir’s shoulder, her heart still pounding from everything that had just transpired.
And as Samir carried her deeper into the darkness, into his own chamber, she knew— this was only the beginning.
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