Pregnant by the Sheikh Page 8

  Before she could snap her arms over her nakedness, he dropped to his knees.

  Seeing him kneeling before her, looking up at her with what looked like wonder, her lips dropped open with unbearable stimulation, but no words came out.

  It was him who talked. “I thought I knew what I’d find beneath that dress you hid behind. I was wrong. You’re a goddess, Jenan.”

  This made words of incredulity escape her. “Look who’s talking.”

  “I’m done talking.” He tugged her hard to him, rumbling, “Now I worship you.”

  She would have keeled over him if his shoulders hadn’t stopped her forward pitch. He added to her imbalance as he fulfilled his pledge. She whimpered at each kneading of her buttocks, lurched with every tongue thrust into her navel, shook at each drag of teeth across her breasts. Her moans sharpened as he clamped her nipple, until a cry rushed out at his first hard suckle.

  “Numair...please.”

  In answer, his thumbs hooked into the top of her panties, peeling them down her shaking legs.

  In seconds she was standing in nothing but her sandals, her clothes discarded at her feet. Numair’s eyes roamed her every inch as if he would gobble her up.

  Everything spun. This was really happening. Numair was really here, and he had her naked. He would take her. And she would let him.

  Let him? She wasn’t begging him to only because she could barely breathe.

  She watched him as if from another realm as his hands closed over each leg in turn and his lips melted down her flesh, kissing and fondling from foot to thigh. Her consciousness flickered like a bulb about to short out.

  “The feel of you, the taste and scent of you are perfection, magic. Madness. Enti jenan ann jadd.”

  She gasped. He’d just spoken in her mother tongue. Said that she was truly madness. She’d always hated it when people attributed this meaning to her name. Which they did a lot, as they deemed most of her actions since she’d turned eighteen to be deranged. But the way he said it, the way he meant it... Like everything else, when it was from him, she loved it.

  By the time he’d explored her every inch, she’d become a literal puddle. She could feel her arousal running down her thighs, could scent it, and she knew he saw and smelled it, too, from the wildness she felt emanating from him. Then something scalding rumbled from his depths, and he pressed her back, slid her up against the wall, opened her thighs and draped them over his shoulders.

  Before she could register his intention, he nudged the lips of her femininity with his nose, rumbling again as he inhaled her deeply, and those rugged fingers caressed them apart, sliding through her molten need. She keened, lurched with jolts of sensation almost too much to bear. Oral sex had left her repulsed or numb before, but not now. With Numair she ached for it. As he dipped a long, powerful finger inside her, each slow inch made her feel how empty she’d been all her life. How only having him inside her would fill the void.

  But she wanted him, and she tried to tell him by tightening her legs around his head, pulling his hair out of its confinement and dragging him up by it. He only opened her fully and burned her to the core in his ragged hunger.

  She malfunctioned completely as his tongue and teeth scorched the heart of her femininity, slowly, thoroughly, as he’d promised. The sight of his magnificent head between her thighs, the knowledge of what he was doing to her was almost more incapacitating than the physical maelstrom.

  Through the delirium, she watched him cosset her, strum her, drink her, revel in her need and pleasure. He seemed unable to have enough, and yet to know when she had.

  “Now let me see how much I pleasure you.”

  Just by his demand, by the exact pressure and speed he seemed to know would unravel her, her body heaved in a chain reaction of searing ecstasy. He held her eyes all through it, watching her greedily.

  After he’d wrung her of everything her body had to give, she went down like a demolished building all over him. A rough sound of gratification rolled from his gut as he received her collapsing weight effortlessly and stood up.

  She flopped in his arms like a rag doll until he whispered in her ear, “Wrap yourself around me, ya jenani.”

  His words injected power into her limp muscles, made her clasp her arms around his shoulders, her thighs around his hips. She would give him anything he wanted.

  It was indescribable, being draped around all his power, feeling everything he was encased within her limbs. She now knew she’d been empty and anchorless all her life, would remain so if she couldn’t enfold him, hang on to him like this. The thought should have scared the hell out of her, this dependence she was developing unknown to her. It only felt amazing now.

  She rested her head against his shoulder as he strode with her clasped tight across her two-room apartment, as if he knew exactly where her bedroom was. Which she wouldn’t put past him, to have already obtained the blueprint of this whole building and its unit models. This was a man who was always in the know, about everything and everyone.

  She felt as if she was gliding through a dream, her body echoing with the hum of pleasure he’d just given her. And it was as if she was seeing everything for the first time. Everything with him felt new, painted in wonder, infused with magic. And madness. He’d been so absolutely right about that.

  As he crossed into her bedroom, she was roused from her delicious lethargy again. Numair had entered her most private place. And she suddenly wished she’d installed so many more lights, so she could revel in every single detail of his perfect body when he finally let her see it. As it was, there were only her bedside lamps and two lamp stands in the opposite corners. But she suddenly noticed something else.

  Her bold decor in gradations of teaks and greens with accents of ebony seemed to echo his coloring.

  Raising her gaze to him as he closed the door, as if he was making sure he had her locked away with him from the world, she melted a caress down his chiseled cheek. “See this place? My inner sanctum?”

  His smile was scalding. “It’s all you.”

  “Actually, it’s all you.” His hands tightened on her back and buttocks, his pupils flaring in surprise. She elaborated. “Every color here is yours. Your skin, your eyes, your hair. It’s as if I’ve picked every one to suit you, as a tribute to your beauty. Seems my preference for the color scheme was some kind of prophecy.”

  His eyes went supernova as he bore down on her against the door he’d just closed. “Everything you say, everything you do, everything about you, sends me out of my mind. Your bill is getting heavier. And I will exact payment in full, ya galbi.”

  She shuddered at the impact of his sensual threat, the sensory overload of being sandwiched between his heat and the cool door, of feeling the steel of his erection nudging her oversensitized intimate flesh.

  But it was hearing him call her “my heart” in her mother tongue that tore a sob from her depths, made her drag his head down and crash those cruelly arousing lips down on hers.

  When he pulled away, his face had transformed into that of a total predator. “I wasn’t exaggerating before. You are tampering with my sanity, Jenan. I’ve never even imagined being out of control. But I am now. So don’t touch me again, don’t hurry me, don’t say a thing, if you don’t want to have a raving lunatic all over you.”

  She giggled. “If this is you out of control, I’d hate to see you in it. You’d probably kill me with frustration—”

  His lips crashed on hers, swallowing her words.

  She’d imagined being kissed since she was old enough to know what kisses were. She’d tried many, many kisses before. It turned out she shouldn’t have bothered imagining or trying.

  This was a kiss. From those lips. This man. A kiss from now on could only be his, each sweep and thrust burying her under an avalanche of sensations.

  Then
she was flat on her back, and he was on top of her, like last night. But she was now fully naked and on her bed. And she combusted. She undulated beneath him, writhed, whimpered for him to please, please hurry. But he subdued her, took his time. He held her arms above her head as his other hand flowed down her face, her shoulder, ending up squeezing the aching heaviness of one breast.

  His eyes were vehement with warning. “You can’t implore me to hurry. You can only moan in pleasure. That’s as much as I can endure.”

  “Let me see you,” she moaned.

  “You’re already breaking the rules.”

  “You’re unfair,” she lamented.

  “It’s your beauty that’s unfair.”

  She tried to free her hands, needing them on any part of him without the barrier of clothes.

  He only immobilized her, then, growling deep like a feasting predator, he continued owning her body.

  He took her to the brink so many times, until tears slid down the sides of her face and wet her hair. Only then did he come up to straddle her.

  He kneaded her breasts, grazed her nipples. “I’ve never seen or tasted anything so beautiful.”

  Her hands shook on his belt. “I want to see you—I want you filling me. Please, Numair, please, now.”

  He escaped her flailing efforts, tore off his shoes and socks, then surged up to stand on the bed over her, his endless legs like pillars of a great statue on both sides of her. Then he started stripping, exposing his glory.

  She rose to her elbows, gaping at his proportionate perfection, all that rippling power encased in polished teak, accentuated with dark silk. But her heart fisted until it emptied at the evidence of violence he’d suffered. She’d expected he’d led a life full of danger, what had led to his current expertise. But his body painted a far harsher life than she’d even imagined.

  A cry spilled from her as she surged up, hands and lips trembling over his scars. Once she’d reached the one just beside his heart, she felt pain echoing what he must have once felt, and tears filled her eyes.

  His hand closed over both of hers over his heart. “It was long ago, in another life.”

  Her tears flowed. “You must have suffered so much...”

  “I survived, and it made me stronger.” He came down on his knees, dragged her up and crushed her to his length, his lips scorching her face. “And it all brought me here, to this point in time, to you.”

  What he said was so poignant, the spasm in her chest intensified.

  He raised her face to his. “Do my scars repel you?”

  That turned off her distress like a tap. “No. Like those harsh, merciless things I felt in your nature, these marks of suffering and endurance make you even more unbearably arousing to me. They make me want to devour you even more. Numair—” she moaned between kisses all over him, reaching for the briefs that did nothing to imprison his erection “—you’re more beautiful than I even imagined. I want to worship each inch of you.”

  With a groan of relief, he dodged her groping lips and hands and tore off his briefs in barely leashed ferocity. “Later, ya hayati, much later.”

  Hearing him use another of the lavish endearments used in her region, “my life” this time, made her collapse back on the bed, shaking with anticipation, but also intimidation. She’d never seen anything approaching his girth and length and hardness.

  He came down over her again, threaded his fingers through her hair. “Now I take you. And you take me.”

  Though she doubted she could take him, she arched up into him, held out her trembling arms. “Yes.”

  He impacted her with his full weight, made her cry out, reveling in how her softness cushioned his hardness.

  Perfect. No, sublime. Just like he’d said.

  She opened her legs wider, and he guided them over his waist. Then he stilled over her.

  Squeezing his eyes, he rose off her to reach for his pants, produced a condom from its back pocket. Tearing the foil with his teeth, he rose on his knees between her splayed thighs and started to roll it over his erection.

  His actions finally registered. He was protecting her. He was giving her the choice. And she made it.

  Her hand shot out, convulsing over his, stopping his action.

  His eyes spewed surprise. “Are you protected?”

  She shook her head.

  The triumph that flared in his eyes almost knocked her out. “You’re saying yes.”

  She nodded, tears beginning to flow again. She was saying yes to everything. She wanted him to claim her fully, wanted his seed inside her, knowing it would probably take root, hoping with everything in her that it would.

  “You don’t want to wait? Until after I demonstrate why you should say yes?”

  “I had all the demonstrations I need the moment I saw you standing on that threshold last night.”

  His face seized with such pride and possessiveness, it would have made her run screaming before, but it was exactly what she needed from him now.

  Her surrender deepened as he cupped her hips in a huge hand, tilting her, prostrating her. Holding her gaze, he dragged it down to where he held his erection with the other hand. He made her watch as he nudged his scorching crown against the knot where her nerves converged. She rose off the bed on a shrill cry of ecstasy. He slid up and down, circling her quivering bud as he bathed himself in her readiness, until she writhed, her gasps fracturing. Once he’d made sure he’d taken her back to the edge of insanity, he positioned himself at her entrance. Then he plunged inside her, feeling like a newly forged sword just out of the fire.

  She screamed at the pain and shock of his invasion.

  Even after she’d seen how big he was, she’d hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much, since she’d had sex before and she was so ready. But it seemed she couldn’t have been ready for him. Nothing would have made her withstand that first thrust. She doubted nothing ever would, that he’d always hurt her at first. And he’d give her unimaginable pleasure in contrast afterward. Even though the pleasure hadn’t come yet, she knew it would. And it would be devastating.

  On the second thrust, he seemed to realize her pain.

  He froze above her, his voice a bass rasp. “Weren’t you married before?”

  His question elicited an amused huff. “I thought so. Seems I wasn’t.”

  “You’re so tight, as if your body was never tried.”

  “It wasn’t. Not by you.” She shuddered beneath him, the pain receding, tremors of deep delight starting to seep into the flesh clenched around him. “I do feel it’s my first time.”

  Her actual first time had been nothing like this. It had been a disappointment wrapped in a vague ache. It had been on her wedding night. If it had been before, the marriage itself wouldn’t have happened.

  “I hurt you.” He sounded more distressed than she did.

  “Yes.” He cursed, tried to pull out of her, but she clung to him inside and out. “You’re hurting me so good. The pain is nothing compared to how you feel inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to brand me.”

  She clamped his hips in her quaking legs and pulled him deeper. With the action he grew even bigger inside her. Caring nothing that it burned, she thrust her hips upward, engulfing more of him. It was overwhelming, being stretched by him, being filled by him beyond her capacity.

  “Give me all of you.” She confessed what she’d been thinking right before he came. “Show me no mercy.”

  “You do want a raving lunatic all over you.”

  “Oh, yes, please.”

  Instead, he withdrew, and she cried out with his loss, urging him to sink back into her. He resisted her squirming pleas, his shaft resting at her entrance for a moment before he sank slowly back inside her.

  On a gust of passion, she opened wider for him. He watched her, gaugin
g her reactions, adjusting his movements to her every gasp and grimace, waiting for the pleasure to submerge the pain before he let her really have all of him, before he showed her no mercy.

  “Glorious, ya galbi, inside and out.” He braced over her on outstretched arms, his muscles bulging, the tendons standing out in his powerful neck. Everything about him confessed his equally agonized pleasure. “So tight, so hot... Jenan...you’re burning me.”

  His face clenched in what did look like suffering as he started pounding into her, forging farther inside her with each plunge.

  Then he angled her and sank in her to the hilt. “Burn me, ya jenani, consume me as I invade you, take all of me, all the way to the heart of you.”

  She arched beneath him, thinking he’d reached her heart for real. And he had—the heart of her femininity, her womb. That intimate nudge was beyond anything she’d dreamed of. She’d been resigned to live alone, to never know true intimacy. But now, as he’d promised, every spark of sensation she was capable of feeling gathered into one pinpoint of absolute being, with Numair. Then it exploded.

  A stifled shriek tore from her as she shattered around his invasion. She reformed only to splinter again and again around his pounding thickness. Her screams filled her head, accompanying the ecstasy razing her body.

  Then his roar drowned everything out as she felt him stiffen in her clutching arms, ramming her deeper than ever before as he spilled into her, his seed filling her.

  He was the only man she’d ever let take his full pleasure inside her. But he’d also been the one to give her far more than pleasure. Her first true intimacy.

  Her cries stifled as it all finally overwhelmed her, loosened her grip on consciousness...

  * * *

  A sweep of delight cascaded down her back and buttocks then up. Again and again.

  Jenan rose slowly from the depths of bliss to the realization that she was being stroked like a feline. And she was lying on top of a great one, who seemed to be purring a deep, deep rumble that vibrated in her bones. The sound was one of absolute satisfaction.