Lucy and the Sheikh(45)

Her legs shook as he moved his fingers over her, lingering when she gasped. With his other hand he gripped her waist and pulled her down to him. Somehow he’d taken off his shorts and he was hard under her bottom. She shifted slightly and he pushed both her legs wider, allowing his hand greater access. She continued to lift her hips, moving her bottom along his shaft, feeling his tension mount along with hers. Then he suddenly stopped.

She lay back against his chest, turned her face toward him and kissed his neck. “Don’t stop.”

“I want to see you, Lucy. I want to pleasure you, but I also want to make love to you. And I want you to be safe.”

She turned and he held her firmly under her bottom as he lifted her out of the water and laid her gently along one of the deep, shallow steps that lined the bath. His hips were level with hers and he leaned over her body, his gaze raking its length before kissing her neck, her breasts, her stomach and her sex. Slowly he pushed open her legs, raking his fingernails up the length of her long, slender legs, tracing the tan lines left by her bikini, leading his finger to a place that was moist and ready for him. She shifted her hips, angling them, showing him her need for him.

He smiled and kissed her once more, dominating her mouth with his own. She helped him pull on the condom and caressed him until he could wait no longer and he pushed deep inside her. She cried out as she came in an explosive climax, her flesh pulsating around him, massaging him, urging him to lose himself inside her. But he didn’t. He kept up a long, slow rhythm that quickly took her to the edge of a second climax. But only to the edge because he made sure he controlled them both. Only when the time was right did he release them both into an oblivion of bliss.





The first thing she noticed when she awoke was the silence. And when she opened her eyes, she saw the peculiar light had disappeared giving way to the inky black of night.

Automatically she reached for the compass and rolled out of bed—she vaguely recalled Razeen carrying her there at some point in the night—and gazed out at the lights of the city and harbor. She examined the compass, only just visible in the dim light. It was still broken. Lucy waited for the panic to begin. But it didn’t come. Strange. She placed it back on the table and surveyed the city once more.

Darkness had fallen over the city. The differences in color between the city, the land and the sea were no longer there. Only the shapes remained, mused Lucy. The sea was flat and whispering, the city angular, jumbled, and subdued in the post-storm lull. She turned away from the window and glanced across at Razeen who was watching her.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Why would you think anything is?”

“The way you are standing at the window, rubbing your arms as if you’re cold on this hot night. The way your brow is slightly furrowed. What are you thinking of?”

She shrugged. “I’m just looking at the city and the sea, thinking…” she pursed her lips quickly, suddenly realizing she couldn’t tell him what she was thinking. Because how could she tell him that it had changed in her eyes, that he had changed in her eyes. How could she tell him that she didn’t need the compass any more? You didn’t need to find out where you were when you weren’t lost.

“Thinking?”

She shrugged as she tried to think of anything other than the deep pounding of her heart that contained so much for the man who’d found her and given her bearings to her. “How beautiful it is.”

He frowned as if realizing he’d been fobbed off with a half-truth.

“And of Maia,” she added quickly, needing to change the subject. “And of what a fool I’ve been, dragging you into this, wasting your time. I’m sorry, Razeen. But I’m also incredibly grateful.”

“Come here.”

“Another order from His Majesty?”

“Yes.”

She walked over to him—trying to contain a smile at his expression of pure lust—and stood beside the bed. His hand reached out and snuck around her bottom and pulled her closer to him.

“Grateful, you say?”

“Yes,” she said suspiciously.

“Exactly how grateful?” A sly grin rested on his lips.

She grinned back. “Extremely.”

“And how do you intend to express this gratitude? I’m not sure verbal acknowledgement is adequate.”

She pretended to look concerned. “What do you suggest?”

Suddenly he’d slipped both hands around her body and she was pulled down flat on top of him. She wriggled against his hardening form, feeling its ridge in her stomach. She shifted up his body a little until he was also touching her where she needed to be touched.