“Everything.” Her nod was frantic. “And I want your everything in return.”
Something savage blossomed in his gaze. “You know what you’re asking for?”
He was demanding more than her body. He’d soon find out he had all of her, through and through.
She struggled to her elbows, meeting his menace with her trust, her vow, her determination. “Oh, yes.”
He suddenly clamped her feet, dragged her by them, slid her across the satiny sheets. One hand took one of hers, tugged, bringing her slamming into his flesh.
“I want to invade you, brand you, devour you whole.” She gasped her willingness for anything he’d do to her, tried to wrap herself around him. “But you’ll have to wait for that.”
A flip had her back in the middle of the bed, lying on her stomach. A firm hand at the small of her back kept her down. She resisted him enough to remain propped on her elbows, so she could watch him as he slid up her body, nipping and kneading his way from the soles of her feet to her nape, ridding her of her panties and bra on the way, leaving her with only her sandals on.
He worshipped her with his ferocity, owned her with his voracity. Every dig of his fingers in her flesh had the exact force, each nip of his teeth the exact roughness to extract maximum pleasure from every nerve ending. He layered sensations with each press and bite until she felt devoured and assimilated, until she was overloading.
Something was charring inside her. She undulated back against him in a fever, pressing her clamoring flesh against any part of him in mindless pursuit of assuagement. “Arjook, Haidar…”
At her cried-out plea, in Arabic, he growled something and flatted her beneath him. She lay there, naked, her every nerve abraded by the sensation of his flesh through his clothes, quaking at the domination of his heated bulk, at each wholly arousing touch.
“Maafi raja…no pleas, ya naari, only possession.”
His breath burned her cheek, its scent filling her lungs, and everything inside her snapped. She cried out, twisted on her back, surged up to cling around him, to his lips in desperate kisses.
“Eight years, Roxanne,” he growled inside her mouth between the tongue thrusts that filled her, conquered her. “Do you know how many times I cursed you for depriving me of this?”
He transferred his lips to her neck and shoulders, tasting every tremor strumming through her as his hands slid down her body, tormented every fiber into a riot of sensation. He dragged a rough, electrocuting hand between her thighs, kneaded and tormented his way to her core. The heel of his thumb ground against her outer lips at the same moment the wet furnace of his mouth clamped over a throbbing nipple. Sensation slashed her nerves.
He dealt her another blow as his deft fingers spread her, probed her readiness, two sliding between her engorged, molten inner lips, stilling at her entrance. She flailed, whimpered, arched up into his hand.
“Do you know what kind of frustration I suffered, wanting to see you like this, to feel you on fire, hunger shaking you apart? How I yearned to do this…”
Those long, sure fingers plunged inside her. Her hips bucked, her squeal morphing into a shriek when he pumped into her in slow in-out glides, filling her, beckoning at her inner trigger. He growled his satisfaction as her slick flesh gripped back at him, tried to wring its release from his torment.
“And do you know how it felt being unable to do this? Thinking I’d never own your flesh like this again?”
Sensation rocketed, more at the emotion and passion fueling his words than at his expert pleasuring. She keened, opened herself wider for him, needing pleasure any way he gave it, offering her surrender.
“You can have it all now,” she gasped. “And always.”
“Saherah.” His growl singed her, even as his thumb stroked her tight, nerve-filled bud in rhythmic circles, the exact pressure and speed she needed, escalating her need for release with each stroke. He swallowed every tremulous word, every tear until she was on the verge of shuddering apart. Then he let up.
She knew what he was doing. He was punishing her. By building up to an eventual, fiercer reward.
Her body felt it would combust if he didn’t push her over the edge. But this was a test of the extent of her surrender. Letting him give her more than she could dream of, his way.
Before she could verbalize her submission, he slid down to lay on his stomach between her thighs, draping her legs over his back.
“And do you know what I suffered, craving the taste of you, knowing I’d never know it again?”
He inhaled her, rumbled like a lion maddened by the scent of his female, blew a gust of acute sensation over her quivering flesh. Her vision disappeared in a haze of crimson lust as he latched his hot lips over her intimate ones, plunging her into a vortex of need. He eased his fingers back into her, his tongue joining in, licked from where they were buried inside her upward, circling until she was sobbing feverishly. No pleas, though. Just confessions of what he was doing to her.
When he’d heard enough, taken her to the edge and dragged her back panting and shuddering enough times, he nipped her, knowing exactly where, how hard.
She convulsed, bucked, smashed her flesh to his mouth, opening herself fully to his double sensual assault, each glide and graze and thrust sending hotter lances skewering through her, pleasure slamming through her in desperate surges. Her climax wrung her out of satisfaction. He growled, drank every drop, kept pushing her, plumbing her flesh for more, until she tumbled from the explosive peak, drained, sated. Stupefied.
Had he ever driven her to such ecstasy?
Sight seeping back, her drugged eyes sought his, as if for answers. They sparkled in the ingeniously placed and calibrated lighting of the room and that of the oil lamps she’d lit, heavy with hunger and gratification.
As if to answer her, he said, “It’s merciful, for both of us, time dulled even my memories. Either that or you have matured from a craving into an addiction.”
Pride, delight surged, at his confession, at the sight of a long-craved fantasy. Him, clothed, between her legs, her, naked, splayed open over his Herculean shoulders.
Her hands trembled through his lush hair. “Look who’s talking.”
He chuckled against her inner thighs, cupped her, desensitizing her before he came up, prowled over her prostrate body on all fours like the sexy beast he was.
He straddled her hips, started stripping. That got her mind rebooting, her muscles functioning. She had to be the one to expose him. She raised her hands, only to have them join her thighs in the prison of his. “Your amends are far from made.”
He licked his lips as if still tasting her, tormenting her with his slow striptease, tightening his knees around her thighs and hands, deepening her helplessness, winding her pounding into a tighter rhythm. She almost relinquished the rules of surrender, to beg to touch and taste him, almost passed out with the pressure of need.
He stood up on the bed, got rid of his pants and boxers in one move. Her senses swam, her mouth watered, the spike of hunger, the pinch of intimidation, the need to feel his daunting manhood, smell it, taste it almost pulling her under.
But she’d had her chance a week ago. He would punish her for that stunt by denying her the pleasure for a period only he would determine. He also had other ways of exacting payment.
He came down over her, pressed his erection to her belly. Feeling the marble smooth and hard column of hot flesh against hers made her writhe, gasp. It awed her that she’d accommodated all that inside her. The remembered sensations as he’d occupied her, stretched her into mindlessness, made her arch up seeking more. He ground harder into her, his knees splaying her thighs, his silk-sprinkled chest teasing her aching nipples.
The moment he crushed her beneath him, she wrapped herself around him, buried her face in his neck, opened her lips over his pulse. Every steel muscle expanded, bunched, buzzed. She whimpered at the relief of his weight on her, the feel of his power, the taste and texture of his flesh beneath her lips, the sheer delight of breathing him in.
“Do you know the depth of longing that preyed on me, needing you beneath me like this? Do you know how much of my sanity I lost wanting to be inside you, yearning to have you around me? Knowing I was destined for starvation?”
His bass groans had regret and agony for the lost years clotting in her heart. “Haidar, habibi, kamm ana aasfah…”
At hearing her calling him her love, saying how sorry she was, his hands convulsed in her hair, pinned her for the full vehemence of his passion. His lips crashed on hers, silencing her, wrenching keens from her with scorching, desperate kisses. He lifted her off the bed, one hand supporting her head for his ravaging, the other at her back, holding her for his chest to torment her breasts, driving her into more of a frenzy. Her eyes streamed tears from the emotional and carnal torment. What she’d cost them…
He touched the head of his erection to her entrance, nudged her, bathing himself in her desire. “Guleeli, ya naari—tell me you know, Roxanne. Tell me you suffered the same.”
She pressed his biceps convulsively, arched for his completion. “I know. And I did. I suffer worse now…”
His eyes roiled with a dizzying mixture of ferociousness and tenderness. “As you should. Now, ya naari, for all the years without your inferno, your solace, now you pay.”