At the Sheikh's Bidding(26)

Erin's cry of protest was lost  beneath the fierce pressure of Zahir's   kiss. His tongue forced access  into the moist warmth of her mouth,   parting her lips with barely  controlled savagery and exploring her with   such skilled eroticism that  she was powerless to fight him or the   tumultuous emotions he aroused in  her. He was her prince, the man of   her dreams, powerful, formidable, a  man who would sweep away the   barriers she had built around herself and  discover the intensely   sensual part of her that she had tried so hard to  suppress.


She wondered vaguely why he had sounded so harsh  when he had mentioned   Faisal. She might almost believe he resented the  fact that she had  been  married to his brother. But she must surely have  imagined the  note of  raw jealousy in his voice.

‘This was  inevitable from the moment we first saw each other at   Ingledean House,'  he grated, when he finally broke the kiss and stared   down at her swollen  mouth, his dark eyes gleaming with a determination   that made Erin  tremble. ‘I knew the instant I saw you that I wanted  you  in my bed,' he  told her with brutal honesty. ‘I assumed you were  the  maid, and instead  of thinking about my dead brother I could not  stop  myself from planning  how quickly I could seduce you.

‘Now that time has come, and I  intend to make love to you until you   plead for my possession and can  think of no other man but me,' he   promised arrogantly, lifting her  suddenly into his arms and striding   over to the bed. ‘You have tormented  my dreams for too long,' he   muttered as he set her down on her feet and  spun her round so that he   could unfasten the row of tiny hooks that ran  down the back of her   wedding gown. ‘And I know that you share my  hunger, kalila. Your body   does not lie-see.'

She still had her  back to him as he pushed the silk caftan over her   shoulders, tracing his  mouth along the fragile line of her collarbone   while his hands came  round to cup her pale bare breasts in his palms.   Her dusky pink nipples  had already tightened into hard peaks, betraying   the molten desire that  was flooding through her veins, and she could   not restrain a soft moan  when he captured her nipples between his   fingers and gently tugged,  sending exquisite flames of sensation from   her breasts to the damp heat  between her thighs.                       
       
           



       

The caftan fluttered to the floor, and Erin  caught her breath when   Zahir turned her to him and she saw the look of  primitive, feral hunger   blazing in his eyes.

‘You are the most  beautiful woman I have ever known,' he said thickly,   as he took the  combs from her hair and ran his fingers through the   rippling mass of  vibrant, silky curls. She was a siren, and he could   not resist the  exquisite combination of flame-coloured hair and smoky   grey eyes that  were no longer flashing with temper but dark and soft   with desire.

He  had wed her reluctantly, but he did not share that same reluctance   to  bed her, he brooded as he stared down at her slender body, and at   the  tiny scrap of white lace that shielded her femininity from his   eyes. His  desperate desire for her was shaming, but now she was his   wife and he  did not have to fight it any longer. Instead he would give   in to this  elemental need to part her soft white thighs and plunge his   agonisingly  aroused shaft deep into her, to take them both to the   heights of sexual  ecstasy until he was utterly sated-and then perhaps   he would be able to  get on with his life and relegate her to a distant   corner of his mind.

She  was staring up at him, her pupils dilated so that her eyes seemed   too  big in her delicate, fine-boned face. The sight of her pink tongue    darting out to trace her lower lip drew a muttered imprecation from  him   as he lifted her and placed her on the bed, immediately covering  her   body with his own. He wanted her now, hard and fast, he  acknowledged, as   he tugged her knickers down her legs and slid his  hand between her   thighs. He wanted her with a primitive hunger that  was rapidly   spiralling out of control-and he couldn't wait.

Erin gasped at  the feel of Zahir's hard arousal straining beneath his   trousers and  nudging into her thigh. His naked torso pressed down on   her so that she  was aware of the faint abrasion of his chest hair   brushing against her  breasts. Somewhere at the back of her mind a small   voice was telling her  she should stop him, but the temptation to run   her hands over the  bunched muscles of his upper arms and then lower,  to  his chest and flat  stomach, was too strong to resist.


He kissed her again, his  lips warm and firm on hers but no longer   seeking to dominate. Instead he  slid his tongue into her mouth and   initiated a slow, unhurried  exploration that drugged her senses, so   that she curled her arms around  his neck and kissed him back with a   fervour that drew a groan from deep  in his throat. At last he lifted   his head and stared down at her, his  eyes hooded and slumberous. He   supported himself on his elbows and moved  his head down to her breast,   flicking his tongue across her nipple  until it swelled and tightened   and then drawing it fully into his mouth  and sucking her until she   moaned and tossed her head restlessly from  side to side.

‘Please,' she whimpered, past caring that he had  reduced her to a   pliant, submissive sex slave. She was on fire, so  desperate for him to   continue his wicked sorcery that she slid her  fingers into his silky   black hair and tugged his head to her other  breast.

‘Your eagerness is such a turn-on,' he taunted her, his eyes glinting with amusement when her cheeks flooded with colour.

She  wasn't supposed to be eager-she was supposed to be fighting him,   she  acknowledged sickly. The note of smug satisfaction in his voice   filled  her with shame at her weakness, but the tug of his mouth on her   other  nipple was so exquisite that she arched her back and pushed her   knuckle  into her mouth to stifle her scream of pleasure.

Now he was  moving his head lower, trailing his mouth over her flat   stomach and  pausing to dip his tongue into her navel before continuing   down. His  warm breath stirred the tight cluster of red-gold curls   between her  thighs and she tensed, her eyes widening with shock when he   gently  parted the swollen outer lips of her femininity and pushed his   tongue  delicately between them to discover the sticky wetness within.

‘Zahir!'  She couldn't believe what he was doing. Not even her wildest   fantasies  had included him bestowing upon her this most intimate   caress, but his  invasive tongue had found the sensitive nub of her   clitoris and she  could feel little spasms of pleasure building inside   her.

Just  when she was sure she could stand no more, he lifted his head and   rolled  off her, his huge chest heaving and his face a taut mask as he   stood to  remove his trousers and then tugged his silk boxers down to   reveal the  jutting length of his fully aroused manhood. Time seemed to   stand still,  and she stared at him in wordless apprehension. But the   time to stop  him had long passed, and she knew from the stark hunger in   his  midnight-dark gaze that there could only be one outcome-his total   and  absolute possession.                       
       
           



       

Paralysed with fearful anticipation, she did  not resist when he pushed   her thighs apart and came down on her,  positioning himself between   them. He moved his hands under her bottom  and lifted her to receive   him, his eyes locked with hers as he rubbed  his thick, swollen shaft up   and down her moist opening.

‘This is  what I wanted the moment I laid eyes on you at Ingledean,' he   told her  rawly, ‘when I fantasised about spreading you across the desk   and  plunging into you.'