His Defiant Desert Queen(71)

                Jemma gasped as his warm mouth settled on her, his tongue sliding up and down, stroking her.

                She shuddered with pleasure, overwhelmed by the intense sensation. His mouth and touch made her feel so many different and disorienting emotions and sensations, filling her head with pictures and colors, all intense and vivid, electric and erotic.

                The eroticism exposed her. The eroticism challenged her.

                Who was she? What was she? What was true?

                Jemma cried out as his tongue pushed deeper, his mouth cool where she felt so warm, his tongue circling provocatively across her taut, sensitive nub. At the sound of her cry, his hands pushed her thighs wider, his thumbs pressing against her bottom, holding her open.

                It was shocking. Shocking because it was him, doing this to her.

                She’d been raised to think for herself, raised to be independent, successful, and her brain told her she shouldn’t enjoy this...being handled, managed, seduced. But her body liked it, and she was beginning to realize there was another side of her, a side she found rather frightening.

                It was darkly sensual, and wanton. Illicit, too.

                It was almost like an erotic dream...sexy, and sensual, and intense...

                So intense, especially when he sucked and there was no holding back. The tension and pressure grew, electric sensation shooting through her. She couldn’t resist it, couldn’t resist him. With a cry she climaxed, shattering from his expert tongue and the intimate kiss.

                For a moment after, Jemma didn’t know who she was, or where she was. For a moment, she was just part of the night and the diamond studded sky. She felt endless, and open and free.

                And then little by little she returned to herself, and him.

                Opening her eyes, she looked at him, unsure as to what his reaction would be.

                His dark eyes were hooded, his expression watchful. But protective. Maybe even a little possessive.

                “Say something,” she whispered.

                “You’re beautiful.”

                Her cheeks burned. “I don’t even know how...or why....” She licked her upper lip, her mouth dry, her heart hammering. “Or what happened.”

                “I do.” He crouched next to her, lifting a strand of hair from her warm, flushed face. “I wanted you to feel good. Did I make you feel good?”

                “Yes.”

                “Then I feel good.”





                                      CHAPTER TWELVE

                AN HOUR AND a half later, back at the Kasbah, Jemma lay in the center of the enormous bronze jeweled bed in the Topaz Chamber, and watched the blades of the fan turn overhead, hearing but not listening to the hum of the fan, seeing the orange silk panels at the window stir. The cool air felt good against her heated skin.

                The soft whir of the fan’s blades and the caress of cool air soothed her.

                She was panicking. But there was no need to panic. Everything would be okay. Nothing terrible had happened, nothing life changing. He’d kissed her. Touched her. Brought her to an orgasm. It wasn’t the end of the world, and it was not as if she hadn’t ever indulged in oral sex before. Damien hadn’t loved to do it, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy it.