Bearing down on her, he found her entrance with his straining cock and pushed forward. Her soft, slick, flesh was pliant after being well pleasured, allowing easy passage. She was so wet, her flesh enveloped him with molten heat. Being like this with Josie was heaven. And even though he wanted to thrust hard and sink himself to the hilt in her heated depths, he forced himself to go slowly, the better to savor every second of his possession.
A groan tore from his chest at the rightness of this union. It was a warm and welcoming homecoming. It was sheer ecstasy.
He moved infinitesimally and she whimpered. He gazed at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes had closed, and a small frown appeared on her brow. He kissed the little crease and she relaxed, only to squeeze him while tilting her hips toward him.
The pleasure was blinding. Only through exercising a level of control he didn’t know he possessed was he able to stop himself from coming on the spot. That would have been embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as the strangled sound he made.
“Ah, Josie, my love. I’ve waited so long for this. I’ve yearned so much for you.”
The need to move was overwhelming. Accepting her body’s invitation, he withdrew halfway and thrust home, again… and again. Setting a steady rhythm. Loving her with every beat of his heart and every part of his body.
Loving her.
He loved her.
And now that they were back together, everything would be well.
CHAPTER 30
Everythingwascompletelywrong.
She should have known it wouldn’t be easy. But up until now everything had been going so splendidly, and she forgot how broken she was. For the first time in twelve years, her body was an instrument of pleasure and not shame. But it couldn’t last. She had been floating in the glorious aftermath of pleasure when she extended the invitation. But the reality of his possession punctured through the golden haze, and she plummeted from the glorious summit.
Straight into hell.
His breath on her ear, the heat of his body, the strength of his arms. Everything that had given her pleasure a few moments ago now terrified her. His member, hard and violent, was invading her. No. That wasn’t true. This was Michael, her beloved.Her beloved who was invading her body.The monster of her fears whispered in her ear. No. He was welcome. She had invited him.She wanted him.Do you really? Are you enjoying this right now?Shut up! Shut up!
Her mental screams fought to drown out the voice of panic. She could do this. If she could submit to the pasha, whom she loathed, she could do it with Michael, whom she loved. She just had to stay still for a few moments, let him achieve his climax. It was only fair after he had pleasured her so thoroughly. He thrust deeper and a pained whimper escaped her this time, unable to control it. She bit her lip, closing her eyes to avoid his gaze.
“That’s it, my love. Come for me. Come on my cock.”
He thought her whimper was a sign of pleasure? She couldn’t be any further from orgasm. She was as far from it as the east was from the west.
“You feel so good, Josie. So wet and tight. I could almost come right now. But don’t worry, I’m going to wait for you. I want to feel your hot little cunny spasming around me. Milking me dry as you come.”
Oh, God. He planned to wait for her? No, no, no, no. She couldn’t do this anymore. With the pasha, she need not participate. He cared nothing for her pleasure, so it was easy to retreat from the moment in her mind. But Michael cared. He wanted her present. Required her participation, her pleasure. And she wanted him gone. But she couldn’t reject him. It would hurt his feelings. After he had been so tender, so understanding.
But if you can’t say no, aren’t you still a prisoner?She could say no. And he would stop. But she didn’t want to offend him, or—God forbid—let him see how broken she was. A reminder of her past.
Unless… she could fake it. As close as he was to achieving his pleasure, that would surely send him over the edge. She hated the idea of lying to Michael, but it was for the best. She was good at faking it. She had learned well in the harem and had honed itinto an art when she realized it made the abhorred encounters briefer.
She just needed to moan and make the other necessary noises, scrunch her eyes, whimper, squeeze her inner muscles. Actually, the expressions of enjoyment were very similar to those of distress. She increased the pitch, not knowing where the cries of distress ended and those of counterfeit pleasure started. She rocked her hips, meeting his thrusts with almost violent ones of her own. Then she contracted her internal muscles in the final crescendo. Now he would finish and it would all be over. And he need never find out.
Michael had gone quiet. He didn’t join her in her fake orgasm. His rhythm slowed and then stalled completely. When she dared open her eyes, he was studying her with a bewildered expression.
“What the hell was that?”
“I-I came? Like you told me to.” She heard the hesitation in her own voice. He was suspicious, and she was not convincing anyone.
He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, you didn’t.” Then after two more heartbeats… “Fuck!”
Suddenly he was gone. Flopping onto his back, he threw an arm across his face. The relief she felt that it was all over was short lived. Shame, fear, and horror gripped her in an almost violent sob. Why hadn’t he believed it? The pasha always bought her act. She had thought she was so good at it. This was a disaster. She peered at Michael, who still was not moving.
“Are you angry?”
He lifted his arm and ran his hands over his face, turning sideways to look at her. “Angry? No. At least not with you.”
“I’m sorry.” The tears were flowing freely now. She hadn’t cried like this in years. It was as if a dam had broken inside her and unending sorrow was flooding her. She couldn’t stop them.
