by Olivia Gates
And she wanted more of him. Of them. All she could get.
She bent to taste the powerful pulse in his neck, dragging her teeth down his shoulder and chest to his nipple, nipping it before she moved her head up, stroking his flesh with her hair.
“I hope you know what you’re inviting with this act of extreme provocation.”
Feeling all-powerful with his desire, reckless with having nothing to lose and everything to win, before it was too late, she squeezed his steel buttock even as she slid her leg between his muscled, hair-roughened ones, her knee pressing an erection that felt even harder and more daunting than before.
“Which act are you referring to?” she purred, nipping his lips, adding more fuel to his reignited passion.
He grabbed her around the waist, brought her straddling him, menacing lust flaring in his eyes, filling his lips. “I have a list now. Each with a consequence all its own.”
Her hunger, now she knew what ecstasy awaited her in his possession, was a hundred-fold that of her previous ignorance.
She rocked against him, bathing him in her arousal and their pleasure. “Terrible consequences all, I hope.”
“Unspeakable.” His hands convulsed in her flesh, raised her to scale his length. He dragged her down at the same moment he thrust upward, impaling her.
She screamed his name, body and mind unraveling at the unbearable expansion, the excruciating pleasure.
She melted into him, felt the world receding with only him left in existence. Along with one thought.
She’d had him. She’d been his.
Tomorrow, when she lost him, nothing could erase the experience from her body and soul.
Gwen had returned to her bedroom in the guest apartment as soon as Fareed had left her in bed. She’d hoped he’d stay away all day until she’d made her escape.
He hadn’t stayed away an hour.
He’d just entered the bedroom, was walking to her in strides laden with urgency, something fierce blasting off him.
Before she could say anything, he hauled her into his arms and drowned her in the deepest kiss he’d claimed yet.
She felt his turmoil collide with hers, until she couldn’t bear it, think of nothing but easing him.
She tugged at his hair gently, bringing his head up. And what she saw in his eyes almost brought tears to hers.
She’d seen this in his eyes off and on since they’d come here. This despair. Every time, being with her and Ryan had managed to erase the darkness that seemed to grip him heart and soul.
She’d never asked about the reason behind his anguish. Not only because she didn’t feel she had the right to, but also because she thought she knew the answer. But what if she was wrong and there was some other reason? Something she could help with, at least by lending a sympathetic ear and heart?
“What is it, Fareed?”
He pulled her back, hugged her tighter, pressing her head to his chest, which heaved on a shuddering exhalation.
He spoke. And she wished she hadn’t asked. For he told her, in mutilating detail, about his dead brother and the depth of futility and frustration he’d been suffering in his ongoing, fruitless quest to find his family.
“Then, a week after you came here, Emad found a lead that looked the most promising we’ve had yet. He’s just told me it turned out to be another false hope.”
Even had she had anything to say, the pain clamping her throat would have made it impossible to speak.
This was all her fault. And no fault of her own. She wished she could tell him to stop looking, to have mercy on himself, that he had nothing to blame himself for, had already done more than anyone would have dreamed. But she couldn’t.
She could only leave and pray that in time, he’d end his search, come to terms with his failure, so that it would stop tearing at him.
Now all she could hope was that he’d go away again, give her a chance to leave without further heartache.
Before she pushed away, his hands were all over her, over himself, ridding them of their clothes. She knew the moment her flesh touched his, all would be lost. She had to act now.
She struggled out of his arms, hating herself and the whole world for having to say this, now of all times.
“I’m leaving Jizaan today.”
He froze in mid-motion as he’d reached back for her, stared at her for a long, long moment.
Then his lips spread. In another moment a chuckle escaped him and intensified until he was laughing outright.
He at last wiped a tear of mirth. “Ah, Gwen, I needed that.” He caught her back to him. “I love it when you let your wicked humor show, loved it when you teased me in bed. Teasing me out of it—if not for long—is even better.”
He thought she was joking! And who could blame him, after the nightlong marathon of passion and abandonment?
He pulled her back into his arms and she gasped, “I’m serious, Fareed.”
That made him loosen his arms enough so he could pull back, look at her, the humor in his eyes wavering.
She tried to maximize on her advantage, injected her expression and voice with all the firmness and finality she could muster. “With your follow-up of Ryan over, there’s no reason to stay in Jizaan anymore. In fact, we should have left long before now. We’ve taken advantage of your generosity for far too long.”
Devilry and desire ignited his eyes. “If last night has been your taking advantage of my…generosity, as you can feel—” he pulled her back against his hard length, his arousal living steel pressing into her abdomen “—I am in dire need for your exploitation to continue.”
“What happened between us doesn’t change a thing.”
“Not a thing, no. Everything.”
She tried to turn her face away. “No! Nothing has changed or will ever change. We have to leave, Fareed. Please, don’t make this hard. I have to—”
“I have to, too.” He latched his lips on the frantic pulse in her neck, suckled her until she felt her heart pouring its beats and love into him. “I have to take you again, Gwen. I have to pleasure you again and again.”
Then as she struggled to hold on to her sanity and resolve, he defeated her, practiced every spell of seduction on her viciously awakened body and starving heart.
She found herself naked, delirious with arousal and pleasure, straddling his powerful hips, her palms anchored on his chest as he dug his hands in her buttocks.
He held her by them, had her riding up and down his shaft, showing her the exact force and speed and angle to drive them both beyond insanity, egging her on.
“Ride me, Gwen, ride me.”
Lost, mad, she obeyed him, rising and falling in a fever, milking his potency with her inner muscles, mines of pleasure detonating in her every cell.
It built and built. She rode and rode, faster, harder, her hands bunching in his muscles, her eyes feverish on his, her mouth open on harsh inhalations vented in frenzied cries.
When it became too much, she wailed, “Fareed!”
“Aih ya galbi, take your pleasure all over me. Take it.” He crashed her down on him, forged to her womb.
She imploded around him for long, still moments, shaking uncontrollably as the tidal wave hovered. Then it crashed, splintered and reformed her around him, over and over.
He took over when she lost her rhythm, a convulsing mess of sensation, changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting a bundle of nerves that triggered a fiercer explosion. It wracked her, drained her to her last nerve ending.
Yet she needed more, him, joining her in ecstasy, begged for it.
This time when the world vanished and nothing but him remained, around her, inside her, she promised herself.
This would be the last time.
Or maybe another time when next they woke up. Or maybe just one more day. Yes, one more day wouldn’t hurt.
But after that, there would be no more. Never again…
Nine
Fareed gazed down on Gwen and thought this was what
sunlight would be like made flesh, made woman.
Her hair gleamed and her skin glowed in the flickering light of a dozen oil lamps. He’d placed them around this bedroom with only her in mind. This bedroom that wasn’t his.
After all the time he’d fantasized about having her in his bed, he’d picked her up that first night, and his feet had taken him here. A guest suite that had never been used before. He’d wanted them to have a place all their own, a place he hadn’t been before, where all the memories would be of her, of them.
He leaned over her, his heart in a constant state of expansion. Her lips, slightly parted in sleep, were crimson and swollen from his possession. Just their sight scorched him with the memories of the past days. He bent and took them, unable to have enough. She moaned, opening for him, her tongue first accepting the caress of his own, then dueling with it, in that never-ending quest for tasting, taking, surrendering. Even in the depth of sleep, she couldn’t have enough either.
He’d lost track of how many times he’d possessed her, how many times she’d claimed him back.
He pulled back, filled his sight and senses and memory with her, beyond his fantasies, lush and vital and glittering in the dimness, naked and vulnerable and the most overwhelming power he’d ever known. Her hold over him was absolute.
His love for her was as infinite.
He groaned as emotions welled inside him, debilitating and empowering, even as his body hardened beyond agony. He needed to plunge into her depths again, mingle with her body and soul.
His hand glided over her, absorbing her softness and resilience, the pleasure that hummed inside her at his touch, the craving echoing his. He caressed her from breast to the concavity of her waist, over the swell of her hips and the curve of her thigh. His hand hooked beneath her knee, opening her over him.
He savored her every jerk betraying her enjoyment, her torment, even as she still dreamed. He bent and took more suckles of the breasts that had rewhetted his appetite for life. She moaned as she spread her thighs for him, cradled him in the only place he’d ever call home, where the fluid heat of her welcome was unraveling his sanity all over again.
Her eyes half opened, heavy with sleep and lust, endless, insatiable skies. “Come inside me, Fareed…now.”
He felt he now lived to hear her say this, to know how much she needed him, to join them in unbridled intimacy and abandon, to take every liberty and give every ecstasy.
He pressed into her, reveling in the music of her gasps, the intoxication of her undulations, the urgency of the hands that clamped his head to her engorged-with-need flesh, begging him to devour her. The scent of her arousal sent blood crashing in his head, thundering in his loins.
He raised his head to take her vocal confessions, poured his own. “Every moment with you, ya roh galbi is magic. I want everything with you, every contradiction. Right now, I want to be giving and tender and I want to be greedy and ferocious, all at once.”
She clung to him, wrapped her legs around him, her lips feverish over his face and shoulders and chest. “You almost wrecked my sanity with your last session of giving tenderness. Give me greedy and ferocious, please. Please, Fareed, please!”
He’d never known there was such pride, such pleasure, as that her desire could engender. Now her urgency hit a chord of blind lust inside him, reverberated it until it snapped.
He snatched her beneath him, rose above her, his senses ricocheting within a body that felt hollowed. Every breath electrocuted him. Every heartbeat felt like a wrecking ball inside his chest. He wanted to tear into her, pound her until there were no more barriers between their bodies. And she wanted him to do it, to plunder her, was shaking apart for his domination.
But he’d give her even better. He’d give it all to her.
He unlocked her convulsive limbs from around his body, ignored her cries of protest, swept her around on her stomach.
She whimpered as he held her down, captured her mound. His fingers delved between her soaking folds to her trigger. She climaxed with the first strokes, bucking and shuddering beneath him.
He showed her no mercy, fingers gliding, spreading the moistness from her core, made her shred her body and throat on pleasure.
He kept stroking her, raggedly encouraging her to have her fill of pleasure, until she slumped beneath him. Then he plunged his fingers inside her, his thumb echoing the action on the outside. She writhed under the renewed stimulation; the need for release a rising crest of incoherence. She thrust against his hand until his “Marrah kaman, ya galbi” hurled her convulsing into another orgasm.
She subsided beneath him, a mute mass of tremors. His fingers remained deep inside her, started preparing her for the next peak.
“I swear, Fareed, if you don’t take me now…I won’t let you take me for…for…” She stopped, panting.
“Not finding a suitable length of deprivation?” He chuckled, removing his hand. “Because you’ll also be depriving yourself?”
She threw him a smoldering glance over her shoulder, one that almost caused his already-overheated system to vapor lock. Then she purred, “Maybe there is another way out of this predicament.”
She thrust the perfection of her smooth, slick bottom back into his erection. Sensation ripped through him on a beast’s growl, making him lunge over her, snap his teeth into her shoulder, making her grind harder into him.
He ground back, whispered hotly in her ear, “I’m finding demonstrations far more effective than threats. Go on, give me examples of what you need me to do.”
The look she gave him this time, the sight of her as she trembled up to her knees, her waterfall of sunshine and ripe golden breasts swaying gently, blanked his sanity, almost made him slam into her. But the need to have her seek him, relinquish yet another notch of inhibition, overpowered even the insanity.
She lowered her head and upper body to the mattress. The total submission in her position, the devouring in her gaze as she rested her face against the dark sheets and silently demanded his domination, sent his breath hissing in his throat like steam, his erection filling with what felt like molten lead.
He still needed more. “A superlative demonstration. Now I need accompanying directions of what’s required of me.”
And she gave him what he needed. “I want you to bury yourself all the way inside me, holding nothing back, until you finish me, send us both into oblivion.”
The last tether of his restraint snapped so hard, he rammed into her with all the violence of its recoil, bottoming out in one thrust. A shout burned its way from both their depths.
“Nothing ever felt like this, Gwen,” he growled as he thrust deeper, harder into her, feeling as if he’d delved into an inferno of pure ecstasy. “Being inside you, this fit, this intensity, this perfection. Nothing could possibly be this pleasurable. But it is, you are, more pleasure than is possible. You sate me and craze me with insatiability. You burn me, Gwen, body and reason.”
She sobbed with every thrust. “You burn me, too…you fill me beyond my ability to withstand…or my ability to have enough. Oh, Fareed…the pain and pleasure of you…do it all to me…do it.”
Feeling his body hurtling into the danger zone, he put all his power behind each plunge. She writhed beneath him, thrusting back, letting him forge new depths inside her, panting more confessions, more proddings. Pressure built in his loins with each slide and thrust, each word, spread from the point inside her he was hitting deepest.
He rode her ever harder, insane for her release, for his.
Then like shock waves heralding a detonation too far to be felt yet, it started. Ripples spread from the outside in, pushing everything to his center, compacting where he was buried in her. He took her, in one more perfect fusion, and it came. The spike of shearing pleasure, his body all but charring with its intensity, slam after slam after slam of spreading satisfaction.
He pitched her forward, filled her with his white-hot release as they melted into one being, replete, complete.
An eternity passed before his senses rebooted. He heard a hum, felt it, pure contentment rising from her as she received his full weight over her back. It made him wish he could remain like this forever, containing her, covering her.
It was beyond incredible, what they shared. Every time had the exhilaration, the voracity, the surprise of a first time, yet had the practiced certainty of a long-established relationship.
After moments, with utmost regret, he had to obey the fact that he was twice her size and weight, and that no matter how much she insisted she craved feeling his weight, practical issues like blood circulation and breathing still existed.
He slid off her slippery, satin flesh, turned her limp, sated body around, gathered her into the curve of his body, locked her into his limbs. She burrowed into him, opened her lips on his pulse, her breathing settling back from chaos to serenity as she sank back into contented sleep.
He sighed in bone-deep bliss. Having her pressed to his side, having her in his life was nirvana.
He couldn’t believe it had been only a week since they’d first made love. It felt as if he’d always gone to sleep wrapped around her and woken up to her filling his arms.
Yet one thing marred the perfection.
Even though he felt their connection deepening, she was only vocal, only demonstrative when it came to physical passion. And only when he aroused her beyond inhibition.
When he’d thought he’d resolved her withdrawal the day after their first magical night, he hadn’t.
She’d woken up the next day with renewed desire to leave. He’d had to use every trick in the book of unrepentant seduction to make her relinquish her intentions.
He had, but only until the next day had dawned. She’d pulled back every morning, forcing him to recapture her each night. Then today, he’d come home running when Emad had informed him she’d been trying to arrange her departure from Jizaan.
That had driven it home that something serious was behind her persistence. But chiding her for trying to depart behind his back hadn’t shed any light on that motivation, or obtained a promise that she wouldn’t repeat her efforts. He’d given up trying, taken her in his arms, and everything had been burned away in their mutual abandon.