LITMIR.BIZ

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bent and covered the tight bead with his hot mouth, tongue playing in a way that had her shuddering as ripples of pure delight went straight down her middle to pool in her loins. When he moved to the other one, she ran her hands through his hair, loving the feel of the soft spiky strands between her fingers, and spoke his name like an endearment.

      A moment later, he dropped to his knees, taking her underpants as he went and leaving them twisted on her shoes as he stroked his hands up and down her thighs, gaze so hot on the flesh he had bared that she felt it. Her inner muscles tightened and a press of moisture wet her lower lips in anticipation.

      She closed her eyes, blocking out anything but the sensation of his light touch, so delicate she barely felt the caress at first, but she was so sensitive it took nothing but the graze of a fingertip to make her throb.

      Her breath rasped over the music. He stole one taste and she fisted her hand in his hair. Her stomach muscles knotted with excited need.

      His caress deepened and she sobbed as glittering sensations poured through her. Her knees wanted to collapse, but she held very still as his lovemaking intensified and her arousal doubled upon itself until she was saying his name over and over, pushing her hips in an erotic rhythm and she was dying, dying, because it was so good.

      Climax arrived as a wave of pleasure that had her tipping back her head to release her cry of joy toward the ceiling, body shuddering, hard hands on her hips the only way she remained standing.

      “Your guards might have heard that,” he said with smug lust, rising before her.

      Her heart lurched.

      His command of her and the moment stung. Not so much the guards hearing, although that was hideously embarrassing. No, it bothered her more that Kasim was significantly less affected by what had just happened than she was. She ought to be feeling like the selfish one, but it felt quite a bit like he had benefited from her giving up her self-control so thoroughly.

      He guided her backward onto the sofa. She was so weak she fairly wilted onto it, body still shaking with aftershocks, but she was clearheaded enough to know she wanted him as carried away as she was.

      He opened his belt, unzipped his fly and brought a condom from his pocket, all the while studying her like he had every right.

      He covered himself and knelt between her knees, drawing her hips to the edge of the cushions and moving a pillow to the small of her back.

      “That’s very pretty,” he said in a lust-filled voice.

      The pillow arched her back so her breasts came up a few inches and he bent to suck her nipples again. It was proving to be her greatest weakness, making her close her thighs on his hips and urge him to soothe the ache he incited.

      “Do you want me, Angelique?” He kissed her throat. “I want to hear it. Tell me.”

      “I do,” she admitted on a helpless sob, not caring about propriety or modesty. But she did care that she not be alone in her abandonment to passion. She grasped the hot shape of him, feeling the muscle leap under her cautious caress, so hard and promising.

      With a determination to make him as wild as she felt, she guided him to where she wanted him and caressed her folds with his tip.

      He reared back, stole a look into her I-dare-you expression, and something untamed flashed in his gaze. He hooked his arms beneath her knees and nudged her for entry, pretty much daring her right back. Take me, then, he seemed to challenge.

      She was very aroused and arched to accept him, but the press of him stretching her made her instinctively flinch. It had been a long time.

      His grip on her legs prevented her from closing them, but he felt her reaction. He paused. “What’s wrong?”

      “Don’t stop,” she gasped, grabbing at his neck and pulling herself upward against him, angling her hips to take him in and releasing a stifled groan as he filled her.

      He made a feral noise and shuddered.

      “Gently,” he ordered, moving in small, abbreviated strokes, testing her body’s arousal and willingness to accept his intrusion.

      She lolled back on the cushion, smiling at him in a way she had never imagined smiling at any man, inviting him to have his way with her. Thoroughly. Completely.

      “Let them hear both of us this time,” she taunted, and ran her hands over her breasts, cupping them, letting her nipples poke from between her splayed fingers. “Unless you can’t wait for me.”

      He muttered something that was probably an accusation of insolence, but he began moving with powerful strokes, deliberate and measured, watching her to ensure she liked it. She did, unable to help moaning and arching, hands stroking up his arms. She caught at his shoulders and pulled him down while bringing herself up, so they were chest to chest. She lifted her mouth to catch at his in soft, biting kisses.

      Soon it became uninhibited and wild. Sweaty and earthy and abandoned. It was incredible. She would have laughed in triumph, but her breaths were nothing but jagged gasps and cries of pleasure. She received him with joy, basked in being his vessel, and told him how good he made her feel.

      “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

      The tension built to impossible levels, both of them digging fingernails into the other as they mated, the enjoyment of the act no longer enough. They sought the culmination. It was coming. They were almost there. So close. Tense. Tight.

      The world exploded and he covered her mouth with his own, so they were the only two who heard the sounds of ecstasy they made together.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      KASIM SHOULD HAVE been fast asleep. He was utterly relaxed. Sexually replete. He certainly didn’t want to move. The bedsheets were smooth beneath his back, the warmth of Angelique draped over him the only blanket he needed. Her hair felt pleasantly extravagant, spilled across his chest and neck in cool ribbons.

      She was falling asleep, twitching lightly as she drifted into slumber, growing heavier against him. Equally sated.

      The things they had done to one another. He closed his eyes and a banquet of remembered sensation washed over him. Smooth, soft hands. A wet, lavish mouth. Legs like silk slithering against his own. Her ripples of climax squeezing him again and again.

      Not that they’d been particularly adventurous. He generally left the level of exploit to his lover, never needing fancy positions or toys to enjoy himself so long as he had an eager partner. But the sofa hadn’t been enough. They had come in here to the bedroom and consumed one another all over again.

      It hadn’t been mere enthusiasm between them. It had been immersion. For a woman who “didn’t do this,” Angelique was tremendously willing to throw herself into the fire of passion. He couldn’t help but burn right alongside her.

      Which was such a disturbing loss of self-governance, part of him was thinking he should rise and take her home right now.

      His body reacted to the thought with an involuntary tightening of his arm around her. A fierce urge rocked through him to roll atop her and have her again.

      One night was not enough.

      Sleep, he ordered himself. Sleep and think clearly in the morning.

      His eyes wouldn’t stay closed, preferring to stare at the decorative ceiling tiles, textured with shadows in the mellow light slanting like sunset from the lounge.

      He likened his sleeplessness to those few times in his life when a day had been so perfect, he couldn’t make himself go to bed and end it. A day in the desert with his father as a child, when the king relaxed and they only concerned themselves with basic needs. Or his last day with his brother, knowing he would never see him again…

      His heart gave a wrenching twist and he tensed, restraining himself from rolling

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