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"Where the hell are you going?" Before she had moved more than an inch he was pulling her back to him, then going a step further and lifting her into his lap.
"What are you doing?" Surprise shot through her as she felt his arms suddenly surrounding her, his warm chest against her.
"Do you think I will let go so easily?" There was something definitely dark and dangerous in his expression now.
"I wasn't aware you owned me. " She wasn't pretending to be unaware of the fact that he was trying to become totally dominant.
So why the hell was her heart racing as though she were excited, as though a potential confrontation with him were turning her on? And why was she growing so wet?
Khalid stared down at her, feeling things he had never imagined feeling as they rolled through him. Most surprising was the edge of possessiveness. Never had he known an obsession such as the one he knew for this woman.
He had shared her easily. The pleasure, the pure eroticism of each adventure had been more than he had ever known with another woman, at any other time. Yet, seeing her walk from that hall with Shayne, his hand on her back as he stood protectively behind her, Khalid had felt a shaft of possessive lust unlike anything he could have expected.
Shayne didn't love her. He wanted nothing to do with love or possessiveness. Shayne wanted to stay on the outside looking in, a part of the relationship but never truly committed to it.
"I never stated that I owned you," he growled, feeling his cock harden to painful tightness as her little ass wiggled against it. "I merely stated that I would not let you go easily. "
"And I'm telling you that if I decide to go, then you'll have no say in it. " Her voice was sweet, but beneath it he could hear a threat of determination and lust boiling inside her.
"Don't believe I'll have no say in it," he told her, hearing the harshness entering his voice. "I did not begin this relationship with you, Marty, to lose you so easily. "
Her eyes widened. There was definitely lust there. Arousal, he amended. The heat in her gaze held emotion, shades of anger, hunger, and a glimmer of feeling that he had never seen in another woman's eyes.
Or did he only wish he was seeing that emotion there? When it came to Marty he was never certain of what he felt, or what she was feeling.
"No, you began this relationship because you were under suspicion for treason by my boss," she shot back.
She was a quick little thing, he thought. But that wasn't exactly accurate.
"No, I began this relationship with you because staying away from you was no longer an option," he stated, gripping her hip
to hold her in place as she made a move as though to leave his lap.
He liked her exactly where she was, in his arms.
"You act as though I had nothing to do with the decision. " The anger flared in her gray eyes then, and sent a surge of pure lust ripping through his balls. "Excuse me, Mr. Mustafa, but I made the first move, not you. I seduced you, remember?"
"That you did. " Threading his fingers through her hair, he pulled her head back and stared down at her, dying to consume her. "And I'll be damned if I hadn't grown tired of pushing you to do so. "
Before she could argue with the statement he took her lips and stole the kiss he needed. His tongue pushed passed her parted lips, stroked against hers, and tasted pure, sweet female a second before he felt her sharp little teeth snap against his tongue.
Jerking back, he stared down at her, eyes narrowed, before he threaded his fingers into the back of her hair, letting the thick, silken strands tumble over his hand. Clenching, he held her still, lowered his head, and nipped her lush, lower lip before flicking his tongue over it gently.
He kissed the pout on her lips and held her head still, and as he stared into her dark, hungry eyes, kissed her again. His tongue flicked over her lips, teased, and stroked until her lips parted again, and her tongue reached out for him.
Hunger was a driving ache in his balls. His cock was engorged, throbbing in such need that he wondered how he bore it. Never had he ached like this, hungered like this.
Turning her, he lay her back on the seat, coming over her with a muted groan that tore from his throat. Kissing her was like bathing in fire, in sweet, white-hot pleasure. His lips took hers again and again, feeling the deepening need as it bloomed inside her, the rush of blood thundering through his body, the heat pouring from her sweet flesh.
Lowering one hand, he raked the heavy taffeta and silk of her dress up her leg, over her thigh. Satiny flesh met the stroke of his hand as her knee bent, her thighs parting beneath his touch as he held her firmly, his lips devouring her.
He could feel the sweet wet heat of her pussy just inches from his fingers. Her juices dampened her panties. The thought of delving into it nearly had him shaking like a young boy.
The feel of her fingers in his hair, tugging at the heavy strands were a pleasure he was certain he had never experienced before. At least, he had never felt such pleasure from it.
Touching her was the most erotic thing he had ever done in his life. Fucking her was nirvana. It was the greatest pleasure in the world.
What made this one woman so different? That thought was barely a presence in his mind as her hips arched to his fingers, which were stroking over the damp panel of her silk panties. A fragile moan passed between them as he felt her melting further beneath him.
