Sheikh's Scandal(36)

His hand resting possessively on her belly, he remembered her question and broke the explosive kiss. “Because that is what you deserve.”

“Huh?” Unfocused green eyes looked up at him. “What?”

“Why I am committed to making this time better than last night.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” she said on a hitching breath as he began to caress her. “But unnecessary, not to mention unlikely.”

“You think so?”

“Last night was pretty special.”

“Tonight will blow your mind.”

“You’re kind of competitive, huh?”

He shrugged. He wasn’t competitive so much as he always won. He was emir; he had to be the best at everything he chose to do.

It wasn’t just built into his position; it was in his DNA.

“Can I touch you?” she asked, her voice husky with need.

“Of course.”

She licked her lips. “Anywhere?”

“Yes.” The word ended on a hiss as her small hand curled around his sex.

She made a hum of approval as her grip moved up and down the column of hard flesh, driving his arousal higher and higher.

“Do not stop,” he instructed her as he began his own explorations.

He intended to drive her to the point of madness with desire.

Long pleasurable minutes later, he realized that every moan of pleasure he pulled from her, every restless movement of her body, drove him closer to the edge of losing his own control.

He’d never found it so hard to hold back, not even the first time he’d lain with a woman.

But Aaliyah Amari was some kind of sensual sorceress, every sexy whimper a powerful spell on his body.

Even when he pressed her legs apart and put his mouth on her, his own body reacted like she was touching him.

She cried out, tried to pull away. “No. That’s...I don’t think...”

He lifted his head. “Do not think, habibti. Feel.”

He tasted her, the sweet tang of her arousal exploding on his tongue as the scent of almonds mixed with musk created a heady perfume around him.

Each woman had her own unique scent, but he had never found one so alluring.

He pushed his tongue inside her and pulled it out again, kissing her in ultimate intimacy.

She mewled, but when he shifted his head so he could flick her clitoris before circling it with the tip of his tongue, she screamed. Long and loudly.

Her responsiveness was addictive and he went back again and again for more of her taste, more of her reactions, using his tongue to lave and then caress with his consciously hardened tip. He added a finger to her passage, reveling in the slick wetness he found there.

She moved against him, her sounds growing more and more desperate, her muscles contracting and relaxing until she went rigid and came. Her thighs locked on either side of his head.

He did not mind at all. He had no intention of moving.

He softened the caress of his tongue, though, pulling his finger from inside her, drawing out her pleasure but not to the point of discomfort.

She went rigid once more and then completely boneless, her legs flopping down to leave her completely open to him.

It was time for the next step: rebuilding her sexual need until she was whimpering for release.

And that was exactly what Sayed did, touching his habibti all over with hands first, but then his mouth—using teeth and tongue to bring her back to the edge of exploding.

However, by the time he rolled on the condom he had to be careful not to come from his own touch, and that never happened to him.

He wished they didn’t need the barrier. Making love with nothing between them had been one of the most profound experiences of his life, even if he’d thought it a dream at the time.

Perhaps it was better this way.

Sheathed to prevent the further sharing of his seed with her body and perhaps keep back some part of his soul from hers, he turned her onto her side and angled his body behind her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice heavy with passion. “I need, Sayed.”

“And I will give you what you need.” He pressed into her from behind, the position allowing him to touch her at will.

One arm tucked under her neck so he could reach her breasts, he reached down with his other hand to touch her clitoris as he began to move.


She gasped out sexy demands even as she moved her pelvis with instinctive rhythm.

This time they came together, their shouts mixing in a sexual song he could easily become seriously addicted to.

The thought was so disturbing, he did not let himself sink into afterglow. He took hold of the condom and carefully pulled out of her, but could not make himself move away completely.

She made a distinctly unhappy sound.

“Shh...” He kissed her sweaty brow, the affectionate gesture too natural to be comfortable for a man who knew his time with his love would be measured in days not years. “I need to take care of the condom.”

He made his way to the efficiency-size en suite on unsteady legs.

The mirror showed him a face he’d never seen before, one with eyes far too soft with vulnerability.

He was emir. Not merely a man.

Not a man at all who could afford to crave a woman like he’d learned to hunger for Aaliyah after such a short time.

He needed to find himself and put this other man away. Sayed owed it to his people and to the brother who had died before getting the chance to lead them.