His Defiant Desert Queen(82)

                He’d kicked open a door down the hall and then kicked it closed behind him. The room was dark and yet he knew where he was going, crossing the floor with long sure strides to drop her unceremoniously on the bed.

                She scrambled into a sitting position. “Get out.”

                “That’s not happening.”

                “I want to be alone.”

                “That’s not happening, either.” He untied the sash at her waist, peeled the robe off her shoulders and reached for the hem of her nightgown.

                She slapped at his hands. “Don’t touch me!”

                “That, my dear wife, is happening.”





                                      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

                MIKAEL REACHED PAST Jemma and turned on the small glass lamp on the bedside table, flooding the room with soft ruby light. The bed beneath Jemma gleamed with luxurious red satin, while the large jeweled mirror on the ceiling reflected the silk-covered walls and the decadent satin sheets.

                With an irritated flick, he yanked the hem of Jemma’s violet nightgown up, pulling it over her head and then tossing the scrap of violet silk onto the floor, before kicking off his own pajama bottoms. “We don’t need these anymore,” he said flatly, “now that we’re in the Crimson Chamber.”

                Jemma scrambled back on the bed. “You’ve lost your mind.”

                “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve lost all patience. I’m not sure which right now,” he said, grabbing her ankle and pulling her back toward him.

                Jemma sprawled back on the bed, her long dark hair spilling across the crimson satin, her green eyes flashing. She’d never looked more beautiful. He would have her now. No more games. She was his. He’d chosen her. Married her. She was his queen.

                He stretched out over her, and settled his weight between her thighs, his arousal pressing against her core.

                She was hot, wet and his length rubbed against her slick heat. It would be so easy to thrust into her, and take her.

                So easy to prove to her how much she wanted him.

                He knew she craved him physically.

                He knew he could make her scream and climax. He could draw out the orgasm and make it last for hours, too.

                But that wasn’t the point. His expertise as a lover wasn’t in question. His future as a husband was. His father might have failed as a husband, but Mikael wouldn’t.

                Mikael dropped his head, and kissed her neck just above her collarbone, and then kissed higher on her neck, at the spot beneath her ear. He kissed the hollow and then the earlobe. He caught her earlobe in his teeth, his teeth lightly scraping, his breath lightly blowing in her ear.

                He felt her nipples pucker and harden against his chest. He released her wrists and stroked her arms, moving in toward her ribs to cup the sides of her breasts, her skin soft and warm and then he stroked out again until his hands covered hers, his fingers linking with hers.

                He kissed the side of her jaw, kissed the pulse beating frantically in the hollow beneath her ear and then he covered her mouth with his and kissed her, deeply, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, probing, possessing.

                Her thighs parted wider for him. Her hips arched, her body rocking up against him.