Font Size:  

‘Oh.’ She instantly felt silly. The driver—as if knowing just the perfect moment to capitalise on her doubts—appeared at her door and opened it. By the time she was standing, clutching her bag, Arkim was waiting for her, darkly handsome and very vital-looking against the grey stone of the old building.

How was it that he could look so devastating, no matter what milieu he was in? she grumbled to herself as she let him lead her into the building. She felt very dishevelled when she saw the marble floor and discreetly exquisite furnishings. And the uniformed concierge who treated Arkim like royalty.

There was a lift attendant, and Sylvie almost felt like giggling. It was so far removed from the constantly out of use elevator in her rickety building in Montmartre.

The lift came to a smooth stop and Arkim led her into a luxuriously carpeted hall, with one door at the end. He opened it and she walked in cautiously, her eyes widening as she took in the parquet floors and quietly sumptuous decor.

The reception rooms were spacious, with floor-to-ceiling French doors looking out over Paris and the Seine. The furniture was antique, but not fussy. Comfortable, inviting.

Drawn by something she’d spotted, she walked over to the opposite side of the room and stood before a black and white photo.

‘It’s Al-Hibiz.’

Arkim’s voice was close enough to set Sylvie’s nerve endings alight. ‘Yes,’ she said, remembering her first view of the majestic castle. A terrible sense of longing for that wide open landscape washed over her. The oasis.

This was torture, being so close to Arkim again and yet not really knowing what he wanted from her. She whirled around and he was a lot closer than she’d expected, within touching distance.

‘Arkim?’ Her voice croaked humiliatingly.

He was staring at her mouth. ‘Yes...’

So she looked at his...at the strong sensual lines. And his jaw, so resolute. From the moment she’d first seen him she’d had that instinct to smooth the stark lines of his face.

She didn’t know who moved first, but it was as if attracting ions finally overcame the tension between them, and then she was in his arms, her whole body straining against his, her arms tight around his neck. Their mouths were fused, tongues tangled in a desperate hungry kiss, the breath being sucked out of each other’s bodies to mix and mingle and go on fire. Arkim’s hands shaped and cupped Sylvie’s buttocks, lifting her up, encouraging her legs to wrap around him.

She wasn’t even aware that Arkim had collapsed onto a couch behind them until she pulled back from the kiss to gasp in air and realised that her thighs were wedged open, tight against his, and she could feel the potent thrust of his arousal against where she ached.

She felt shaky. The fire had blasted up around them so quickly. ‘Arkim...what are we—?’

He put a finger to her lips. He looked fierce. ‘Don’t say anything—please. I need this. I need you. Now.’

There was something raw in his tone...something that resonated deep inside her. Who was she kidding? She needed this too. Desperately.

She levered herself against him, pushing back. Infused with a sense of confidence borne out of what this man had given her at that oasis, Sylvie stood up and slowly and methodically took off her clothes until she was naked.

He looked...stunned. Hypnotised. In shock. In awe.

Sylvie came back and straddled him again, every inch of her skin sensitised just from his look. His hands came to her waist and she felt a slight tremor in them. She reached down between them and undid his trousers, pulled him free, smoothing her hand up and down the silken length of his erection, her whole body flushing red with lust.

The fact that she was naked and he was still almost fully dressed was erotic in the extreme. But when Arkim’s mouth latched on to her nipple, Sylvie’s fleeting sense of being in control quickly evaporated, and he skilfully showed her who was the real master here. She was rubbing against him, thick and hard between her legs, feeling her juices anointing his shaft.

Arkim groaned and dropped his head against her and said, ‘I need to be inside you...now.’

Sylvie raised herself up in wordless acquiescence while Arkim extricated protection from his pocket, smoothing the thin latex sheath onto his penis.

His hands were back on her waist—tight, urgent. He positioned her so that her slick body rested just over his tip and with exquisite care, as if savouring the moment, he brought Sylvie down onto his erection. She inhaled as he filled her, almost to the point of pain but still on the side of pleasure. When he was as deep as he could go he held her there for a moment, before it got too much and he had to move again...

There was nothing but the sound of their laboured breathing in the quiet apartment as the frenzy overtook them. Her knees were pressed to his thighs, her hands gripping his shoulders. Her whole body tightened and quickened as Arkim thrust hard and deep up into her, hips welded to he

rs. He was so deep...deeper than ever before. She could feel her heart beating out of time. And when the explosion hit there was nowhere to hide.

Sylvie’s head was thrown back, her eyes shut, every muscle and sinew taut, as waves and waves of release flowed through her body, wrenching her soul apart. And Arkim was with her every step of the way, his own body as taut as a whip under hers.

It was so excruciatingly exquisite that it almost felt like a punishment. As if Arkim was doing this on purpose, just to torture her. It was shattering.

And when the waves subsided Sylvie subsided too, unable to keep herself upright, collapsing against Arkim’s chest, her head buried in his neck.

She felt like a car crash victim. As if some kind of explosion had really just happened, knocking her out of orbit. The fact that his heart was thundering under hers was no consolation. Her skin was hot, sticky, but she was too wiped out to care.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like