The Last Prince of Dahaar(67)

                His breath balled up in his throat. “Do it,” he said, wondering how easily she enslaved him.

                She raked a fingernail over one nipple and he fisted his hands at his sides.

                Her hands clasping his on either side, she bent and scraped her teeth over the other nipple. A hiss of breath left him as his skin felt too hot, too tight to hold him. Her pink tongue darting out, she licked him, and his erection twitched.

                Like a cat licking up cream, she rained soft, wet kisses over his chest, his abdomen, around his navel. His muscles knotted so tight that it almost hurt, but he resisted the urge to sink his hands in her hair.

                She licked a path next to the line of hair disappearing into his jeans, and he bucked off the wall. He closed his eyes, fighting for control. Instead the image of her mouth around his arousal burned in his brain. He felt her fingers undo the button, tug the zipper down.

                Heat billowed in his blood, curled in his muscles, threatening to shove him out of his own skin.

                He uncurled his fingers and plunged them into her hair. “Stop, Zohra,” he said, uncaring that his tone was begging for something even as he spoke the words that said the opposite.

                She sank to her knees at his feet, full of fluid grace. She looked up, her eyelids droopy with lust. “Remember how you gave me a gift, Ayaan?”

                He nodded, his throat hoarse.

                “Apparently, the bride is supposed to give one to the groom, too. The next time you think of this place, I want you to see me like this—on my knees, with my mouth around you.”

                An unbearable longing churned through him. “You don’t have to do this, Zohra.”

                “I want to. Just as you wanted to learn and taste every inch of me.”

                With a smile that he would never forget curving those lushly erotic lips, she tugged his jeans and boxers down. And his erection sprang free.

                Clamping his jaw tight, he closed his eyes. He heard the harsh rasp of her breathing, just before she wrapped her hand around his hard length, her fingers tightening as they moved up and down.

                He instantly jerked his hips forward, coils of pleasure shooting down his groin.

                Until he felt the tentative flicker of her tongue over the head. Heat blasted through him.

                “Oh...” she said, her breath feathering over the wet tip.

                He sucked in a breath, tried to get his vocal glands to work. “What?” It was all he could say.

                “I see why you liked doing it so much.” Her pink tongue flicked out again and stroked him in a leisurely lick that tugged tight over every nerve ending. “Every time I do that, I feel this ache....” She shifted restlessly on her knees, before licking him again.

                He banged his head against the wall, a low growl ripping from this throat when she closed her soft mouth over the head.

                “Where?” he rasped again, his brain only capable of single words.

                He heard her soft groan in the moment that she caught her breath. “Between my thighs. Every time I taste you, I feel it there,” she said, before sucking him into her luscious mouth again. His shoulders trembled, his knees quaked, a fine sheen of sweat covered his entire body.

                She continued pleasuring him with her tongue and her mouth until he shook with the sensation of it, until curse upon curse fell from his mouth, until he could feel the intense rush of his climax building, a roaring fire inside him.