by Lora Leigh
"So I haven't." His head lowered, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. "Get ready, precious."
The moan she had tried to hold back slipped free as the head of his cock began to stretch delicate tissue, to stroke nerve endings never before touched.
Crowding sensations began to tear through her. The burning heat of the penetration, the shift and thrust of his cockhead inside her, never going far enough, never fully possessing her as the pleasure began to rise inside her once again.
Marty lost sense of what she knew was coming. She knew only what she wanted, what she needed. She needed him deep inside her. She needed the stroke and thrust of him against tender nerve endings suddenly blazing for touch.
Her hips arched, her legs wrapped around his hips as she writhed beneath him, reaching desperately for more.
"Easy," he groaned. "Slow and easy, Marty."
"No." Her head shook as she tightened around him, fighting to draw him deeper inside her. "Fuck me, Khalid. Now. Please God, now."
His hips jerked, burying his erection deeper inside her, the burn suddenly building, intensifying as he drew back once before surging forward with a hard, blinding thrust.
Pleasure and pain merged. Fiery heat and desperate hunger blended as Marty cried out his name, her arms tightening around his neck as he buried himself inside her to the hilt.
Excruciating pleasure. There was no other way to describe it, to sense it. A pleasure that bordered pain. A pain that bordered ecstasy.
"Fuck. You're burning me alive," he groaned against her lips as she felt his erection throbbing inside her.
"Now." She could feel the inferno beginning to blaze inside her, the building sensations, the desperation and need that he just move.
"Now." A gentle nip at her lips, and he was moving.
Marty stared up at him, watching the expression of building pleasure as it tightened his face, feeling the exquisite rapture racing inside her as he began to fuck her with deep, heavy strokes.
Pleasure began to escalate inside her, to whip across her nerve endings as her body began to demand more, her senses becoming lost in the hunger tearing through him.
Tightening her legs around his hips, tilting her hips to the stroke and drive of his, she let the building pleasure escalate. She didn't bother to fight it. She knew better than to try to control it. Ecstasy was just a heartbeat away, one last surrender to fulfillment.
She gave him that surrender. Her body tightened around him, the delicate muscles clenched and milked his cock as each thrust became harder, pushing inside her, stretching her, impaling her with heated hunger as the explosions began to detonate through her body.
The cry that echoed around her was her own. Her body tightened, arched, then began to tremble as white-hot impulses of sensation began to tear through it.
Raking her nails along his back, she cried out his name as she felt each thrust increase until a strangled groan tore from his throat. She felt the heated, furious blasts of his release inside her. The sensation triggered another fiery burst of pleasure through her body, another orgasm that drew her tight within his arms and forced a cry from her lips.
It was rapture. It was dying and being reborn. It was agony and ecstasy, and Marty knew in that moment that she had lost something in his arms that she may never be able to regain again.
She had, in all possibility, lost her heart.
Gently, Khalid cleaned Marty's exhausted body as she dozed. With a soft, warm cloth he wiped the perspiration from her face, her neck, and her breasts. From between her thighs he cleaned the sweet juices and the excess of their passion before toweling her dry and pulling the blankets gently over her body.
Donning comfortable cotton pants, he sat at the edge of the bed for long moments, trying to speak, trying to tell her the rest of the truth, the mistakes he had made. The reason why it was so important that he not lose her.
She was tired, he told himself. He could tell her when the sun rose, when he perhaps had more information on his brothers.
His contacts should know something by now, he assured himself. He would speak to them first, then he would speak to her.
Bending to her he kissed Marty's forehead gently then rose from the bed and quietly left the room to allow her to sleep.
He had to know where his half brothers were, what their plans were and if they had targeted Marty. And if they had, then he had a decision to make. Plans to put together. Killing in cold blood was far different than taking down a terrorist cell.
They would stop at nothing to kill Marty. And that was something he could never allow.
Now, he had to protect her, even if it meant becoming the coldblooded killer his brothers accused him of being.
Chapter 7
She wasn't going to survive the emotions tearing her apart. As Marty escaped the estate hours after Khalid had left the bed and disappeared into his study, she had to fight back her shame. It wasn't shame about what they had done. The pleasure had been so intense, so mind-blowing, that there wasn't a chance in hell that she could feel ashamed about it.
It came from the very fact that for some reason he hadn't been able to lie beside her, to sleep with her, once the sex act had been completed. The anger that had surged through her once she realized that he had no intention of returning to her had burned through her like wildfire and had sent pain into the very depths of her soul.
The next afternoon she still hadn't managed to get a handle on that pain and anger.
Khalid had called more than once that afternoon and the messages on her answering machine were becoming colder, and obviously angrier. And she was becoming more nervous. Khalid wasn't the type of man to whom a woman said no easily. If nothing else, bittersweet regret would linger in her memories for more years than it should.
And he wouldn't do it through physical intimidation. Oh hell no, Khalid would use his sexuality, his experience, and a woman's hunger to make damned sure she didn't escape him until he was ready to let her go. And that terrified her almost as much as the intensity of her emotions did. Her body was in conflict with her mind, and it was craving more of Khalid.
The phone rang again. Turning to stare at the offending instrument, Marty waited until the answering machine clicked on.
"Marty, it's Shayne." The amusement in his tone had her frowning. "It seems Khalid's upset with you, darling. Could you give him a call? I'm afraid he just might lose that legendary control of his soon if you don't."
Marty winced. Yes, Khalid's patience was considered legendary.
"Come on, sweetheart, don't make this harder on yourself than it has to be," he finished, just before the recorder clicked off.
Great. Now Shayne. She should have listened to her instincts where he was concerned. He was simply too damned dominating.
She bit at a fingernail as she paced the living room floor, struggling with what she wanted to do versus the anger and fear rising inside her. What the hell had he done to her the night before? Hell, it was just sex. Right? It wasn't as though he had grown two heads and tried to steal her soul. Well, he hadn't grown two heads, she thought, with a weary sigh. But the stealing her soul part . . . she wasn't too sure about that. Her entire body was too sensitive, as though being away from Khalid was putting her through some sort of withdrawal.
She wanted him again. Her pussy was wet, her breasts sensitive, her arms ached to hold him, her thighs tingled at the memory of the feel of him between them.
She almost scoffed at the idea of an addiction, but God, she just needed him. But she had needed him for years. The feelings raging through her were amplified from those that she had felt before he had taken her in that big bed of his. Before his release had spilled inside her. Before he had cleaned her with painstaking care afterward.
Why hadn't she believed the rumors that Khalid rarely slept with a lover? That in most cases the members of the club who more often played the role of a third did
so because the responsibilites, such as sleeping with their lovers, were the very responsibilities they shunned in a relationship.
She had needed that sense of intimacy, though. She had ached for it with the same strength that she had ached for his touch, his possession. The lack of it now left her struggling with both anger and pride.
The problem was, she had no idea how to do anything about it. The most she had managed to do was perhaps piss him off because she had left before he was ready for her to leave.
And there was no doubt that he was angry. She had refused to answer the phone all morning, but he had still called. Several times. His voice becoming darker and more brooding each time. At least she had some satisfaction from that. Slight though it may be.
The phone rang once again.
"Have you ever been spanked?" Khalid's tone was dark, brooding. "Because I'm thinking that's just what you need, baby. Pick up this damned phone, Marty. Now." She stared at it as though it were a snake, coiled and hissing. The recorder clicked off as a surge of nervous energy began to race through her. If she stayed here, then there wasn't a doubt in her mind that Khalid would be there soon. She would have to face him eventually, but she had hoped to get a handle on whatever the hell it was she was feeling, and to get over her anger, before dealing with the situation.
If she only knew what to do now. How did you make a man provide the intimacy needed when he clearly seemed against it?
The other part of this intimacy problem was the half-truths he had given her the night before. He had given her just enough to warn her that danger could be coming soon, but not enough to provide a clear picture why.
That complete truth, the intimacy of sharing more with her than simply what he had to, was obviously something he couldn't give her.
She had chased after him since she was teenager. Now that she had made it into his bed she was learning that there was much more to seduction than she had ever imagined. She was going to have to figure out the rules before she went much further.
Unfortunately, she had the feeling her apartment wasn't the best place to do so. Khalid owned the damned building. Grabbing her purse and the overnight tote she kept packed, Marty rushed from her apartment to the parking garage.
Her mother was still gone, but her father was home. She wouldn't have to go into detail; she'd never had to when her emotions were like a cauldron ready to boil over. And when it came to Khalid, she imagined her father could be a font of information, if he wanted to be. Convincing him to give her just a few insights shouldn't be too hard.
Her father had always understood. He would understand now.
Sliding into her black BMW, Marty started the engine and put the car into drive. Driving through the exit of the garage, she threw a wave at the security guard on duty.
As she drove past she noticed his hand reaching for the phone and rolled her eyes. No doubt he was informing Khalid that she was leaving her apartment. She'd noticed that Khalid had a rather strong habit of keeping tabs on everyone in his life. Not that he had many friends, but those he did have also seemed to revolve in the same sphere of social, personal, and business alliances as he did, which made it easier for him to do so. She had now become someone he felt the need to watch over.
She hadn't needed a man's protection since she had left her parents' home. She didn't need Khalid's protection now. What she needed was far more important, something she was afraid she would never possess.
It was more than she had received last night, though. She just had to figure out how to get him to realize he wanted to give it to her. Then she had to figure out exactly how to handle it if he did.
The night before had been a revelation in many ways. From the second Shayne had walked into the Sinclairs' library, Marty had sensed that her life was changing.
Something she had only been curious about before had bloomed inside her. And in Khalid's eyes she had seen an affirmation that it was coming.
If she allowed this relationship to progress, then it would be far more than what they had shared the night before.
She felt a jolt of response at the thought of being the lover of two men. It had only been a distant curiosity for so many years, but the knowledge that it would happen if this continued suddenly had her wondering what it would mean to her own sexuality, and to the emotions she could feel torturing her now.
Over the years Marty had managed to get enough information to form a certain image of the club and the men she knew were a part of it.
Men who walked a certain dark edge, who found thrills in various forms of high-adrenaline lifestyles. Whether they were CEOs, leaders of countries, or agents of one of the world's alphabet agencies, they all shared a common tie: a darkness and a sense of danger that they carried like an invisible shield.
The ring of the cell phone on the seat beside her had her heart racing again. Picking it up, she glanced at the number, fortified her courage, and flipped the phone open to answer it. "Leave me alone for now," she ordered briskly, praying she sounded more determined than she truly was.
"You picked the perfect time to leave." Shayne's chuckle came through the line. "Khalid was on his way to your apartment as you pulled from the garage."
"That's what I pretty much figured," she informed him. "I need some time."
"You should have thought about that before you shared his bed last night." Shayne's tone became firmer. "What the hell is going on, Marty? You're not some flighty kid. Why the hell are you running from him?"
Because she didn't know what to say, what to do. Because she wanted to dream of happily ever afters and she was terribly afraid those couldn't exist in Khalid's arms. He couldn't hold her after taking the innocence she had saved for him. He could only give her half truths. What made her think he would ever do more than fuck her?
She should have considered this; she should have thought of it. But she would have sworn he felt more for her than simple lust.
"I need to think," she finally breathed out roughly. "I'll call him later."
Shayne grunted at that. "Does Khalid seem like a man you can dangle on a string, sweetheart? I think you know better."
Yes, she knew better. And she had a feeling Khalid would reinforce that impression.
"I didn't ask for your opinion," she muttered.
"I volunteered it," he stated, his voice like dark silk. "If I were you, I'd return to the estate."
She laughed at the order. "Go to hell. Look, I'm certain you'll be talking to Khalid soon if you're not still at the estate. Tell him I'll call him later. I have some things I have to sort out, and I can't do that in his bed."
"You may not have a choice," he growled.
"Yeah. Right." She laughed into the line as she made her turn and took the road to her parents' home. "When I no longer have a choice is when you'll be burying me, Shayne. Now go away. I have things to do that don't include you."
"For the moment." Though low, his tone was intense, commanding.
"Good-bye, Shayne." Flipping the phone closed, she cut him off as effectively as possible and ignored its strident ring as it lay in the passenger seat.
No man ordered her around, and she was going to be damned if she was going to allow Shayne or Khalid to do so.
She could see this situation deteriorating rapidly, and she knew it was her own fault. She shouldn't have run. She should have faced this; she should have faced Khalid and demanded what she knew was her due as a lover. Spending the night in his study was not acceptable loverlike behavior as far as she was concerned.
But perhaps it wasn't just Khalid's fault. From the moment the intensity of her orgasm had begun to ease, Marty had known she had entered a realm of sensation and emotions that she wasn't prepared for.
She had been suddenly terrified of a broken heart. In the moments after that final orgasm she had sensed that she had already allowed herself to cross a line. She had invested much more of herself in a man than
she had ever intended.
Pulling to a stop at the intersection, she waited for the car in the opposite lane to proceed first, her mind still racing to figure out how to handle her personal life.
She was distracted, and she knew better than to allow herself to do that. Khalid and Shayne had her off balance, but not so off balance that she didn't see the black car as it raced from its parked position farther up the street or the barrel of the rifle as it was shoved out the back window.
Bullets tore into the front of her vehicle as Marty jerked the wheel to the right, stomped the gas, and started praying as the window shattered. A scream tore from her lips as she ducked, and her foot hit the gas harder.
Another blast blew out the back window, and a second later she heard the scream of tires, horns blowing, and the sound of voices raised high in shock. The vehicle slammed to a hard, shocking stop, throwing her forward into the steering wheel. For a moment the world seemed to tilt on a crazy axis. She could hear sirens in the distance. Her cell phone was ringing again, that crazy "Who Can It Be Now" ringtone echoing in her head as she fought to get her bearings.
She struggled to reach the phone on the passenger seat as she lay across the console, the world still tilting around her.
"Hello?" Her voice was scratchy, weak. It didn't sound like her, even to her own ears.
"Marty?" Shayne's voice was instantly concerned. "What's wrong?"
She tried to push herself upright. "I'll have to call you back. Someone just tried to blow my head off." She was going to throw up. "Bye, Shayne."
She could hear him screaming her name as she flipped the phone closed and took a hard, deep breath. Her stomach was roiling. A sense of vertigo plagued her, as she struggled to sit upright.
She hadn't hit her head. She hadn't been shot. The car had slammed into a tree, however.
"Lady, you okay?" a voice asked her from outside the broken window.
Marty forced her eyes open and focused on the officer.
"FBI." She forced the word past her lips as she tried to get her senses back into line. Pulling the small wallet from the inside of her jacket pocket, she flashed her identification at him and breathed in hard and deep once again.