“I have spent my life to date avoiding women like you.” He said with a shrug, waving a hand through the air imperiously.
“Plain Janes?” She asked grimly.
His eyebrows knitted together as he shook his head slowly. “Gold diggers. Mercenaries.” He contradicted, his face showing the smallest hint of repugnance.
It was such an unfair accusation that she almost dropped the protective cloak she kept firmly in place of her emotions. “You think I’m a gold digger?”
“There are worse words I could have used,” he pointed out harshly.
“Such as?”
“Prostitute? Whore?”
Out of nowhere, her hand came up and slapped him hard across the cheek. She was as surprised as he was. He was quick. He grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her close, so that their bodies were in contact. His breathing was harsh as he stared down at her.
“What else do you call this charming scenario? You have willingly brought yourself to my room, for the purpose of sex, in exchange for untold wealth. To me, that’s the definition of prostitution.”
It was such a tawdry spin on the marriage that she felt sickened. It had never occurred to her that he might view her actions in such a light. True, she was not wealthy, but material concerns had never even entered the equation when making her decision. She opened her mouth to deny it and swiftly closed it again. They didn’t know each other well enough for any trust to exist. She couldn’t trust him with the truth of her upbringing, and he wouldn’t believe her if she denied his offensive interpretation of their marriage.
The Wedding Pin, a single diamond tipped pin that held the whole robe together was at the small of her back. Before she could guess his intentions, Tariq reached around her and unclipped it easily, holding her eyes as metres and metres of expensive fabric draped to the ground. His own look was sardonic.
“What are you doing?” She croaked as the fabric pooled at her feet. She refused to show how embarrassed she was. She was used to being shamed and embarrassed. If he thought she was going to break that easily, he had another thing coming.
“Appraising my purchase,” he drawled, stepping back from her a little but keeping hold of her wrist.
Insolently, he raked his burning gaze over her naked body, lingering on her small upturned breasts, her concave stomach, and the flesh that had been waxed completely free of hair, exposing her most vulnerable self completely.
“You have been well prepared for tonight,” he commented slowly, but there was no admiration in his voice, only cool, hard judgement.
She pulled on her wrist but he didn’t release his vice like grip. “What’s the matter, Rebecca? Don’t you want me anymore?”
She swallowed. She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. Why was her heart still racing like this? Why was her core feeling slick with moist heat? She should have been outraged, not turned on.
“Because I want you,” he said grimly, evidently not at all happy with his own desire.
She lifted her hooded gaze to his face, trying to understand the complex emotions she saw there. As if against his will, he pulled her towards him, and ran a hand along her stomach, bringing it up to gently cup the small swell of her breast. His eyes stared down into hers, and she refused to look away. Even as his thumb teased the aureole of one nipple, sending shooting sensations spasm-ing through her body, she held his challenging glare.
Sharp, hot spears of need drove through her body and she sucked in a shaky breath as the unexpected feelings coursed through her. “Tariq,” she whispered breathily, when he dipped his head and took her other nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. On instinct, she pressed her body as firmly against his as she could, revelling in the sensation of his starched robes against her exposed flesh.
His hands roamed down her body, touching gently, evoking goosebumps of sensation everywhere they went. As his fingers moved lower and lower, her body felt aquiver, and she thought she might burst from the pleasure he was providing. But it was nothing compared to how her body reacted when his fingers brushed against the entrance to her core. Gently, his hand separated her thighs and her eyes flew up to his face. She wished she had been able to understand what she saw there. He looked cold and determined, not anywhere near the turned-on mess that she was.
All rational thought deserted her when he slide a finger inside her and teased her clitoris. But Tariq watched, hungrily, as his blushing bride fell apart at his hands. Her passion was so wanton, so innocent, that he felt his own control slipping.
Rebecca whimpered deep in her throat. Her husband was speaking low and quiet in Arabic, and his words were like tiny kisses against her neck. As she felt her body start to spasm pleasurably with total release, she threw her head back and cried out, not letting go of him for fear she’d fall over. She rode wave after wave of blissful pleasure, until finally she could breathe normally once more.
Tariq took a step back from his wife, whose face was flushed with pleasure, her blue eyes holding an unmistakable sheen of desire. He schooled his features to show disinterest.
“Go, Rebecca.”
“Go?” She repeated, her surprised disappointment obvious.
“Yes. Go. I have no interest in claiming your body tonight.” He sounded so calm, so unaffected by her. Of course he was! He was no virgin. This was all very ordinary for him. Except for the forced marriage bit, she guessed.
She bent down and fumbled for her robe, tried to pull it around herself. It was too complicated, with so many folds and tucks and twists. Her hands were shaking with anger and nervousness, as his dark gaze continued to watch her efforts. In the end, she wrapped it around her shoulders like a sheet, simply for modesty.
Although a part of her wished the ground would open up and swallow her to its molten core, she felt a surge of strength as she looked at this man who had married her against his will. “Let’s get one thing straight, Your Highness.” She said with dignity. “I am not your purchase. I am your wife.”
“How could I forget,” he muttered and turned away from her. He didn’t move until he’d heard the door click shut behind his Queen.
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The Tycoon's Virgin Mistress Page 17