Pursued by the Desert Prince(10)

She smoothed her hand down the lapel of his suit jacket, then warily  looked up at him, fearful of what she might find in his gaze.

What she saw made the ground fall away beneath her feet.

His eyes were hungry and fierce, but there was something tender there, too.

"I'll take care of you," he promised in a low growl, then dipped his head to kiss her.

She started slightly as his arms went around her and a jolt of such  acute pleasure went through her it was almost like a shock of  electricity.

He paused briefly, gentled his kiss. Then, as she pressed into him,  encouraging him to continue, he deepened it, sweet yet powerful, making  her knees weaken.

They quietly consumed one another. She speared her fingers into his hair  and met his tongue with her own and let herself flow wholly into the  kiss.

Releasing a jagged noise, he pulled away and threw off his jacket.  Yanked at the buttons on his shirt. "Damn you for being so far ahead of  me. You do this."

He left his shirt open but tucked in and set his hands on her bare  waist, capturing her lips with his as he ran his hands around to her  lower back, making her shiver then melt as he molded her closer. They  were chest to chest, hot dry skin to hot hairy chest.

A sob of broken pleasure escaped her. More. She needed more of him, and  pushed at his shirt, smoothing her hands over the powerful shape of his  shoulders. With a brief pull back, she yanked his shirt free of his  pants, then they were embracing again, her hands free to steal beneath  the hanging tails of his shirt to caress the warmth of his flexing back.

Skin. Lips. A cold belt buckle against her bare stomach and a hard shape  behind his fly that made her both nervous and excited. She had never  abandoned herself to desire, had never allowed herself to be so  vulnerable, but she didn't have a choice. Time stopped. All she knew was  the feel of him stroking her skin, pressing her closer, fondling her  breast then looking at where her nipple stabbed at his palm.

He bent and covered the tight bead with his hot mouth, tongue playing in  a way that had her shuddering as ripples of pure delight went straight  down her middle to pool in her loins. When he moved to the other one,  she ran her hands through his hair, loving the feel of the soft spiky  strands between her fingers, and spoke his name like an endearment.

A moment later, he dropped to his knees, taking her underpants as he  went and leaving them twisted on her shoes as he stroked his hands up  and down her thighs, gaze so hot on the flesh he had bared that she felt  it. Her inner muscles tightened and a press of moisture wet her lower  lips in anticipation.         

     



 

She closed her eyes, blocking out anything but the sensation of his  light touch, so delicate she barely felt the caress at first, but she  was so sensitive it took nothing but the graze of a fingertip to make  her throb.

Her breath rasped over the music. He stole one taste and she fisted her  hand in his hair. Her stomach muscles knotted with excited need.

His caress deepened and she sobbed as glittering sensations poured  through her. Her knees wanted to collapse, but she held very still as  his lovemaking intensified and her arousal doubled upon itself until she  was saying his name over and over, pushing her hips in an erotic rhythm  and she was dying, dying, because it was so good.

Climax arrived as a wave of pleasure that had her tipping back her head  to release her cry of joy toward the ceiling, body shuddering, hard  hands on her hips the only way she remained standing.

"Your guards might have heard that," he said with smug lust, rising before her.

Her heart lurched.

His command of her and the moment stung. Not so much the guards hearing,  although that was hideously embarrassing. No, it bothered her more that  Kasim was significantly less affected by what had just happened than  she was. She ought to be feeling like the selfish one, but it felt quite  a bit like he had benefited from her giving up her self-control so  thoroughly.

He guided her backward onto the sofa. She was so weak she fairly wilted  onto it, body still shaking with aftershocks, but she was clearheaded  enough to know she wanted him as carried away as she was.

He opened his belt, unzipped his fly and brought a condom from his pocket, all the while studying her like he had every right.

He covered himself and knelt between her knees, drawing her hips to the  edge of the cushions and moving a pillow to the small of her back.

"That's very pretty," he said in a lust-filled voice.

The pillow arched her back so her breasts came up a few inches and he  bent to suck her nipples again. It was proving to be her greatest  weakness, making her close her thighs on his hips and urge him to soothe  the ache he incited.

"Do you want me, Angelique?" He kissed her throat. "I want to hear it. Tell me."

"I do," she admitted on a helpless sob, not caring about propriety or  modesty. But she did care that she not be alone in her abandonment to  passion. She grasped the hot shape of him, feeling the muscle leap under  her cautious caress, so hard and promising.

With a determination to make him as wild as she felt, she guided him to  where she wanted him and caressed her folds with his tip.

He reared back, stole a look into her I-dare-you expression, and  something untamed flashed in his gaze. He hooked his arms beneath her  knees and nudged her for entry, pretty much daring her right back. Take  me, then, he seemed to challenge.

She was very aroused and arched to accept him, but the press of him  stretching her made her instinctively flinch. It had been a long time.

His grip on her legs prevented her from closing them, but he felt her reaction. He paused. "What's wrong?"

"Don't stop," she gasped, grabbing at his neck and pulling herself  upward against him, angling her hips to take him in and releasing a  stifled groan as he filled her.

He made a feral noise and shuddered.

"Gently," he ordered, moving in small, abbreviated strokes, testing her body's arousal and willingness to accept his intrusion.

She lolled back on the cushion, smiling at him in a way she had never  imagined smiling at any man, inviting him to have his way with her.  Thoroughly. Completely.

"Let them hear both of us this time," she taunted, and ran her hands  over her breasts, cupping them, letting her nipples poke from between  her splayed fingers. "Unless you can't wait for me."

He muttered something that was probably an accusation of insolence, but  he began moving with powerful strokes, deliberate and measured, watching  her to ensure she liked it. She did, unable to help moaning and  arching, hands stroking up his arms. She caught at his shoulders and  pulled him down while bringing herself up, so they were chest to chest.  She lifted her mouth to catch at his in soft, biting kisses.

Soon it became uninhibited and wild. Sweaty and earthy and abandoned. It  was incredible. She would have laughed in triumph, but her breaths were  nothing but jagged gasps and cries of pleasure. She received him with  joy, basked in being his vessel, and told him how good he made her feel.

"Don't stop. Don't ever stop."

The tension built to impossible levels, both of them digging fingernails  into the other as they mated, the enjoyment of the act no longer  enough. They sought the culmination. It was coming. They were almost  there. So close. Tense. Tight.         

     



 

The world exploded and he covered her mouth with his own, so they were  the only two who heard the sounds of ecstasy they made together.





CHAPTER FIVE

KASIM SHOULD HAVE been fast asleep. He was utterly relaxed. Sexually  replete. He certainly didn't want to move. The bedsheets were smooth  beneath his back, the warmth of Angelique draped over him the only  blanket he needed. Her hair felt pleasantly extravagant, spilled across  his chest and neck in cool ribbons.

She was falling asleep, twitching lightly as she drifted into slumber, growing heavier against him. Equally sated.

The things they had done to one another. He closed his eyes and a  banquet of remembered sensation washed over him. Smooth, soft hands. A  wet, lavish mouth. Legs like silk slithering against his own. Her  ripples of climax squeezing him again and again.

Not that they'd been particularly adventurous. He generally left the  level of exploit to his lover, never needing fancy positions or toys to  enjoy himself so long as he had an eager partner. But the sofa hadn't  been enough. They had come in here to the bedroom and consumed one  another all over again.

It hadn't been mere enthusiasm between them. It had been immersion. For a  woman who "didn't do this," Angelique was tremendously willing to throw  herself into the fire of passion. He couldn't help but burn right  alongside her.

Which was such a disturbing loss of self-governance, part of him was thinking he should rise and take her home right now.

His body reacted to the thought with an involuntary tightening of his  arm around her. A fierce urge rocked through him to roll atop her and  have her again.