The moment the plane touched down in Las Vegas, my heart started racing so hard I could feel it in my ears.
I had spent the entire flight replaying every moment from Texas — the way Ammi had hugged me, the heavy conversation about Dad, the dark satisfaction I felt when Zara and Angila saw me leave in the Escalade.
But now that I was back, all I could think about was him.
I stepped out of the arrivals gate pulling my small suitcase, scanning the crowd nervously. I expected Marcus or a driver. Instead, I saw him.
Lucifer.
He was standing just beyond the barrier in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up as usual, there was no blazer this time, looking every bit the powerful man who had turned my entire world upside down. The second our eyes met, a slow and wide smile curved his lips. My heart felt very happy looking at him.
Before I could even say hello, he closed the distance in three long strides, pulled me into his arms, and hugged me — deep, possessive, right there in the middle of the busy airport. His hand cupped the back of my neck, the other pressed against the small of my back, holding me against him like he was afraid I might disappear again. I melted into him, my gold bangles jingling softly as my hands clutched his shirt.
Then he moved his lips closer to mine, kissing me. I melted deeper, I felt all the emotions he felt for me. The days he was going to miss me.
Astaghfirullah… We were in public. People were watching. And yet all I could think was how much I had missed his lips, his scent, the way he claimed me without a single word.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine. "Welcome home, angel" he murmured, voice low and rough. "Two weeks. I'm going to make you feel special."
My cheeks burned. I felt loved, desired, and completely his.
"mmHm~", I voiced with happiness.
He grabbed my suitcase in one hand and my hand in the other, leading me toward the exit where his car was waiting. The entire drive to the office was thick with tension. His hand never left my thigh, fingers tracing slow circles over the fabric of my skirt. I kept stealing glances at him, my heart fluttering every time I remembered I was going to live with him for the next two weeks.
At the office, Marie greeted me with a knowing hug and a wink. "Look at you, glowing again. Moving in already? Bold move, Habibti."
Marie had eyes and ears everywhere. There was no point being surprised anymore.
So I just blushed crimson, while sipping my tea in the break room.
Lucifer smirked and pulled me into his office the first chance he got. The door barely clicked shut before he had me pressed against it, kissing me like he had been starving for me. His hands roamed under my blazer, palming my breasts through the silk, thumbs brushing my nipples until I whimpered.
"Luci… we're at work," I whispered, even as my body arched into his touch.
"I know," he growled against my neck. "That's what makes it so sweet."
He didn't take me fully — not yet — but he teased me mercilessly, sliding his hand under my skirt, stroking me through my damp panties until I was trembling and biting his shoulder to stay quiet. Every time he pulled back, whispering, "Not here. Not yet. I want you in our bed tonight."
He piqued my expectations. Enticed me about something unholy. Ya Allah Forgive me for expecting sin.
By the time the workday ended, I was a mess of want and nerves. We drove straight to my apartment to pack.
Inside my small place, reality came closer to me.
I had just been so focused on the move that I hadn't prepared properly. I opened my drawers and realised I had very few clean clothes left — most of my casual wear was in the laundry. As for lingerie… I never had bought any since I went out with Marie.
The few pieces I owned were either too plain or still unwashed from the last time Lucifer had seen me in them.
I stood there, cheeks burning with confusion and embarrassment, holding a simple white cotton nightie that suddenly felt childish.
Lucifer noticed immediately. He came up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, lips brushing my ear.
"Any Problem, Peach?"
"I… I didn't buy enough comfortable clothes. And everything else is in the wash," I admitted, voice small. "I didn't plan my laundry day right."
He chuckled softly, the sound warm and affectionate. Without a word, he unbuttoned his black shirt and slipped it off his shoulders, revealing the hard planes of his chest.
The heat inside me slowly started to rise to my cheeks as he undressed himself slowly. Once he was done, He held it out to me.
"Wear this for now. I like seeing you in my clothes anyway."
I took the shirt with trembling fingers. It smelled like him — cedar, musk, and safety. I slipped out of my office blouse and skirt right there in front of him, then pulled his shirt over my head. The fabric was warm from his body and felt short coming up to mid-thigh on me, the sleeves long enough to swallow my hands. I felt small, claimed, and incredibly sexy all at once.
Lucifer's eyes darkened as he looked at me. "Aafreen… you look better in my shirt than I do."
***
We packed slowly. He helped me fold the few things I had — my shalwar kameez, a couple of modest nightdresses, my prayer mat, some jewellery. Every time our hands brushed, the air grew thicker. By the time we finished, I was aching for him again.
When we finally stepped into his penthouse, it felt different this time. Not like a visit. Like home.
Lucifer carried my suitcase inside and set it down. Then he did something that made my heart stutter — he lifted me into his arms and carried me over the threshold like a bride. I laughed softly, burying my face in his neck.
"Welcome home, angel," he said again, voice low. "For the next two weeks… and hopefully a lot longer than that."
He ordered dinner — my favourite Pakistani dishes and non-alcoholic drinks — and we ate on the balcony overlooking the Strip. The conversation turned deep. I told him about Dad's visit, about Ammi's worry, about how scared I still felt about drifting from my faith. Lucifer listened without interrupting, his hand never leaving mine.
"I know this isn't easy for you," he said quietly. "But I'm not asking you to choose between me and Allah. I just want to be part of your life. All of it."
After dinner, he led me to the bedroom. He had already cleared half the closet for me. My things looked small next to his suits, but they belonged there.
I was still wearing only his black shirt.
He stepped close, fingers tracing the collar of the shirt I was wearing — his shirt. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you like this… living here, wearing my clothes, sleeping in my bed."
My breath hitched. Astaghfirullah… I was standing in his penthouse, wearing nothing but his shirt, about to give myself to him completely. The guilt was still there, whispering in the back of my mind, but it was quieter now. Overpowered by the love and desire that had been building for weeks.
He kissed me slowly, reverently, and this time he didn't stop.
He laid me down on his bed — our bed — and took his time undressing me until I was completely bare beneath him. Every kiss, every touch felt like worship. When he finally pushed inside me, slow and deep, I gasped his name like a prayer and a sin at the same time.
"Lucifer…"
"Good girl," he groaned against my throat. "My perfect angel. Let go for me."
I did. I let go completely. The pleasure built and crashed over me again and again as he moved inside me, claiming me fully for the first time. I came with his name on my lips and tears in my eyes, whispering Astaghfirullah even as I clung to him tighter.
When he finally spilled inside me, groaning my name like it was sacred, I felt something shift deep in my chest. I was still Aafreen Khan. I was still Allah's servant. But I was also his — completely, irrevocably his.
We lay tangled together afterwards, his arms wrapped around me, my head on his chest. I traced the lines of his muscles with my fingertips, listening to his heartbeat.
"I'm scared," I whispered honestly. "But I don't want to go back to who I was before you."
He kissed the top of my head. "You don't have to. You're mine now, Aafreen. And I'm yours."
For the first time in a long time, the guilt didn't feel like a weight. It felt like part of me — a part I was learning to carry while still choosing him.
I was his angel.
And for the next two weeks, this was home.