The Sheikh's Sinful Seduction(43)
The carnality of it thrilled her, made her yearn. Rubbing and sliding against him took her very close to drawing him into her. She slowed, savoring every millimeter of his shape against her sensitive core. Pressure threatened as she found his tip and slid away again. Oh that was wickedly tempting, making her entrance weep with desire, strumming her to unbelievably desperate levels.
Barely realizing what she was doing, she grew more deliberate with her movements, pressing harder, liking the piercing intensity and stretch against her aching center. She did it again, pressing for that hot thickness to sink deeper into her.
“Fern,” he gasped as he pulled back, his hands hard on her hips.
“I want it to be you, Zafir,” she sobbed in defeat, scraping her nails across his shoulders as she buried her mouth in his neck. Intense sexual hunger nearly shattered her into weeping. “I don’t want another man to be my first. I want it to be you.”
He was right there. Her body needed his so badly.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” His words were barely audible and he held himself in such tight control, he trembled.
“You won’t,” she assured him, rocking and catching him into her, feeling him press to the deepest point yet.
His breath rushed out and his arms slid to lock around her.
“Don’t stop me,” she begged.
“Gently,” he said, shaking hands moving up her back to her shoulders. “Go slow—” He bit off a curse as she sank down a little more.
It did hurt. A lot. But she was so aroused it happened easily and she was so happy to feel him filling her. So dazzled by the unique sensation of sitting on his lap this way, nose-to-nose, lips-to-lips, tender flesh burning as she accommodated his thickness, bodies locked in this ancient way.
She smiled as she kissed him and settled fully onto him, taking all of him, possessing him as much as he possessed her.
He ran his hands over her, nipping at her mouth with tender, inciting kisses as he whispered soft words in Arabic that sounded sweet and grateful and loving.
He played with her breasts, teased her nipples and made her react with a tight clasp around him. Intense excitement shot stars behind her eyelids. She wriggled with ecstasy, discovering the deliciousness grew the more she rocked.
“Careful. You’re driving me mad,” he said with a hard hand on her hip. “I’m so close I’m going to lose it if you keep doing that.”
She ignored him as she arched and writhed, moving with all the skill she’d learned from him. She gloried in grinding herself tight against him, then pulling away until she could feel the tension in his fingers as he urged her not to let his flesh leave hers. Her entire existence narrowed to the place where they joined, where her flesh was taut and sensitized and quivered in joy.
And every time she clasped herself tight on him, a deeper pleasure crept closer, like waves lapping at her, climbing, swelling, threatening to engulf her.
“I’m there, Zafir,” she breathed in his ear, feeling the tidal wave rising inside her. “Come with me. It’s so good. So good.” She sank onto him, clinging as the crisis arrived, expanding a white light through her that was pure elation. Exaltation.
Her body clenched around his shape, stunning her with the intensity of it, the tremendous heightening of their connection. He held her so tightly, she could barely breathe, but she needed his arms to hold her together as she shook and her abdomen contracted in ecstatic catches of bliss.