Mahnoor's smirk deepened as she held Daemond firmly beneath her. The heat between them still pulsed through the room, a living, breathing testament to the fire they had ignited together. She gazed down at him, her fingers lightly trailing along his jawline, her possessive grip on his neck now replaced with a softer touch.
But there was something unfinished, something she had been waiting to hear from him.
"I need an answer," she whispered, her voice steady but filled with anticipation. "To something I said two weeks ago…"
Her eyes searched his, daring him to remember, daring him to finally give in to what they both knew had been building between them.
Daemond's chest tightened. He knew exactly what she meant. That moment, two weeks ago, when she had laid it all bare, leaving herself vulnerable in a way that wasn't typical for her. She had told him she loved him, demanded a response that never came.
In the haze of their physical connection, he had pushed it aside, burying himself in the desire she sparked within him, in the confusion of his own feelings. But now, with her sitting on top of him, her eyes piercing through his soul, he couldn't avoid it any longer.
Mahnoor's lips quirked up, sensing his hesitation. She tilted her head, her fingers brushing against his temple, waiting for him to speak.
Daemond swallowed, the weight of her question settling over him like a heavy blanket. He had resisted for so long, questioning himself, questioning his feelings. But here, in this moment—his body still thrumming with the intensity of what they had just shared—there was no room left for denial.
With a deep, frustrated sigh, he met her gaze, his eyes softening as the walls he had built crumbled around him.
"Fucking love you too," he growled, his voice rough but sincere, the words escaping his lips like a confession he had been holding in far too long.
Mahnoor's breath caught in her throat, the satisfaction of hearing those words spreading through her like wildfire. Her eyes gleamed with triumph, her grip on him tightening ever so slightly.
"I knew it," she whispered, her lips brushing his as she leaned down to kiss him softly, her touch a stark contrast to the intensity of her earlier dominance.
He kissed her back, his hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer. It wasn't just about the passion now—this kiss was different. It was raw, vulnerable, laced with an emotion that had been bubbling beneath the surface for weeks.
For the first time, Daemond wasn't just complying, wasn't just reacting to her manipulations. He was giving himself to her, not out of desperation or confusion, but out of something real.
Mahnoor pulled away just enough to look at him, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "Finally," she whispered, her voice a mixture of relief and triumph.
Daemond huffed, still trying to process everything, his hands still on her, grounding him in the reality of what had just happened. He didn't have all the answers, but he knew one thing now with certainty—he was hers, in more ways than one.
And as Mahnoor settled against him, her fingers playing with his hair, she knew she had won. She had broken through every barrier, every hesitation, and now she had what she had always wanted—Daemond's love, raw and untamed, just like the man she had unleashed.