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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Instead of taking me home, Amir took me to his penthouse suite in the Sheraton. Once we were in the elevator, he pinned me to the wall and devoured my mouth with his. His hands held me securely so I couldn’t move, and he became my air, my support, my strength. I gave to him, fully giving in and succumbing to this moment in time. My mind swirled with numerous doubts as I continued to battle with an uncertain future with a man I hardly knew. But his kisses continued to banish those thoughts and replace them with visions of love.
I saw us as a couple together. In bed, at the beach, eating and simply sitting on a couch and watching TV. Then I saw our son, his son. A golden child with light eyes and sandy hair. He would be an heir to a throne, and his beauty, like his father’s, would hold a nation in sway. The same way Amir held me in rapturous bliss.
When we entered his massive suite, he swept me up into his arms and threw me on the huge bed. Then he froze. “I am so sorry! I should be more careful. Forgive me.” He went to his knees at the side of the bed, and I giggled at him.
“Don’t be silly. I’m only a couple months along. You can’t hurt it—him—or me.”
“Him? Do I dare dream, my princess?”
I shrugged. “I just had a vision of us and of him—so yeah, go ahead. Might as well fall headfirst on this one.”
He dragged my legs apart and to the edge, spreading them. “Sometimes, princess, I do not comprehend your American slang. I, however, would enjoy falling headfirst into you.”
I squealed as he snagged my panties and ripped them down to my knees. “Amir Rashid! You are such a bad man. I didn’t know this about you.”
He jerked me closer to the edge of the bed and then tore my panties the remainder of the way off, over my boots. Then he spread my legs even farther and dove down to kiss at my center. His long tongue dashed out and lapped across my folds, and I dug my fingers in his hair, groaning so loudly, he chuckled between my legs.
I held him there, my fingers digging into his scalp, and he made love to me with his mouth. When he was finished—after he’d made me orgasm in a series of multiple, mind-numbing rushes of release, he pushed me up the bed and kissed me. He kissed me until my lips were numb and my heart was entirely his. The last remnants of doubt flitting away like fog against the morning sun.
I was his. He was mine. And my life was now going to be nothing like I’d planned. No regrets!
To Be Continued…
