In Too Deep_ Husband Material & the Sheikh's Bargained Bride - Brenda Jackson [56]
He first shrugged off the silk abaya. It slid from his daunting shoulders and slithered to the floor with a resigned sigh. His gold-embroidered top, wrapped cummerbund and boots followed. He left the low-riding loose pants on.
Before she could cry out her indignation, he kneeled before her. His hands traveled up legs that went boneless at his first touch, his to do with as he chose. It pleased him to spread them, to drag her by them, to bring them over his shoulders. “Daheenah adoogek men jedd—now I taste you for real. I’ve been addicted to your taste from that first time. I’ve been starving for more of you.” He opened her lips, gave her core one long lick, groaning in response to her cry. “Say you’ll always let me taste you, always want me to.”
She wanted to tell him but her tongue twisted in her mouth, paralyzed with anticipation. She only keened, her hair falling all over her face with the vigorousness of her nod. Satisfied with her condition, with her response, he clamped her feminine lips in a devouring kiss. He licked and suckled at her swollen flesh, thrust inside her with his tongue, drank deep of her pleasure. He took her to the edge again and again, only to pull her back, set her to a simmer, then build her desperation once more until she felt the ache inside her reaching critical mass. She begged him with her hands in his hair, with her body writhing in mounting agony as she tried to pull him up, to have him penetrate her, ride her, put her out of her misery.
He resisted her, lashed her trigger and sent her convulsing and shrieking into another racking orgasm.
He drank her dry, kept licking her, soothing, defusing the surplus of sensations, until her oversensitized flesh subsided. And she wanted him more than ever.
She struggled to her elbows, looked down on the magnificent sight he made, kneeling between her legs, his lion’s head rubbing her thighs, his lips worshipping them. Her heart spilled a fresh batch of palpitations.
“Adham, stop tormenting me. Don’t make me wait anymore.”
He raised eyes blazing with satisfaction at her renewed agitation, at his own pent-up arousal. He rose, pushing her back across the bed with his shoulders against her legs until he had her in the middle. Then he rose above her on all fours. “Release me.”
At his command, though her hands felt like they were no longer under her control, she fumbled with his pants. She somehow undid the zipper and pushed them halfway down his muscled thighs, exposing their bronzed splendor. He took pity on her, pushed them all the way down, kicked them off. He held her hands and guided them into removing his tight boxers. And she gasped.
His erection sprang hard and long and heavy, slamming against his belly. Just the sight exacerbated her swooning state.
He noted her reaction with those all-seeing eyes as he again had his hands and lips all over her triggers.
“I pleasured you in the car, and again now,” he groaned against her nipples, her pulses, her lips, “not only because I crave your pleasure as much and more than I do mine, but because I need to know that your desire is all mine, all about needing my possession. Tell me.”
“I want you,” she moaned. “I’ve been going out of my mind with wanting you. I want you all the time, doing everything to me. Please, Adham, habibi, take me.”
He rose to loom over her, a god of virility and beauty, almost menacing in the fierceness of his focus, the ferocity of his lust. He pushed her with gentle power until she lay flat beneath the cage of his muscle and maleness. He drove one knee between hers, winding the throbbing between her thighs to a tighter rhythm.
“How do you want me to take you? The first time?”
She didn’t hesitate. She knew just how. “Fill my arms, let me wrap myself around you as you fill me.”
“And the second?”
“Cover me, lie on top of me, over my back, let me feel all of you pressing me into the bed as you possess me.”
He bent to pull