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Her dark eyes scorched him with what he’d never dreamed of seeing in them: drugged sensuality and surrender. Then they squeezed in languorous acquiescence.
He needed more. A full disclosure, a knowing consent.
“I will take everything you have, devour everything you are, give you all of me. Do you understand? Is this what you want? What you need? Everything with me, now?”
His heart faltered, afraid to beat, waiting for her verdict. Then its valves almost burst as her parted, passion-swollen lips quivered on a ragged, drawn-out sigh.
A simple, devastating, “Yes.”
Ten
Kanza heard herself moaning “yes” to Aram as if from the depths of a dream. What had to be a dream.
For how could this be reality? How could she be in Aram’s arms? How could it be that he’d been devouring her and was now asking for more, for everything?
The only reason she believed it was real was that no dream could be this intense, this incredible. And because no dream of hers about him had been anything like this.
In her wildest fantasies, Aram, her indulgent friend, had been gentle in his approach, tender in his passion.
But the Aram she’d known was gone. In his place was a marauder: wild, almost rough and barely holding back to make certain she wanted his invasion and sanctioned his ferocity.
And she did. Oh, how she did. She’d said yes. Couldn’t have said more. She could barely hold on to consciousness as she found herself swept up in the throes of his unexpected, shocking passion. The thrill of his dominance, the starkness of his lust tampered with everything that powered her, body and being. Her brain waves blipped, her heartbeat plunged into arrhythmia, her every cell swelled, throbbed, screamed for his possession and assuagement.
She’d thought she’d been aroused around him. Now she knew what arousal was. This mindlessness, this avalanche of sensations, this need to be conquered, dominated, ravished. By him, only him.
Almost swooning with the force of need, she delighted in openly devouring him, indulging her greed for his splendor. He loomed above her, the fiery palette of the horizon framing his bulk, accentuating his size, setting his beauty ablaze. The tempest in his eyes was precariously checked. He was giving her one last chance to recant her surrender. Before he devastated her.
She would die if he didn’t.
The only confirmation she was capable of was to melt back into his embrace, arching against him in fuller surrender.
Growling something under his breath, he bent toward her. Thinking he’d scoop her up into his arms, carry her inside and take full possession of her, she felt shock reverberate when he started undoing her shirt. He planned to make love to her out here!
There was no one around in what looked like a hundred-mile radius, but she still squirmed. One arm firmed around her only enough to still her as his other hand drifted up her body and behind her to unclasp her bra. The relief of pressure on her swollen flesh buckled her legs.
He held her up, his eyes roving her body in fierce greed as he rid her of her jacket, shirt and bra. The moment her breasts spilled out, he bared his teeth, his lips emitting a soft snarl of hunger. Before she could beg for those lips and teeth on her, his hand undid her pants. She gaped as he dropped to his knees, spanning her hips in his hands’ girdle of fire; his fingers hooked into both pants and panties and swept both off her, along with her shoes.
Suddenly his hands reversed their path, inflaming her flesh, rendering her breathless, and he stilled an inch from her core.
She shook—and not with cold. If it wasn’t for the cooling air, she might have spontaneously combusted.
Then he lit her fuse, raising eyes like incendiary precious stones. “Ma koll hada’l jamaal? Kaif konti tekhfeeh?”
/> Hearing him raggedly speaking Arabic, asking how she had hidden all this beauty, made her writhe. “Aram…please…”
“Aih…I’ll please you, ya kanzi.” His face pressed to her thighs, her abdomen, his lips opening over her quivering flesh, sucking, nibbling everywhere like a starving man who didn’t know where to start his feast. Her fingers convulsed in his silky hair, pressed his face to her flesh in an ecstasy of torment, unable to bear the stimulation, unable to get enough. He took her breasts in hands that trembled, pressed them, cradled them, kneaded and nuzzled them as if they were the most amazing things he’d ever felt. Tears broke through her fugue of arousal. “Please, Aram…”
He closed his eyes as if in pain and buried his face in her breasts, inhaling her, opening his mouth over her taut flesh, testing and tasting, lavishing her with his teeth and tongue. “Sehr, jonoon, ehsasek, reehtek, taamek…”
Magic, madness, your feel, your scent, your taste…
Her mind unraveled with every squeeze, each rub and nip and probe, each with the exact force, the exact roughness to extract maximum pleasure from her every nerve ending. He layered sensation with each press and bite until she felt devoured, set aflame. Something inside her was charring.
Her undulations against him became feverish, her clamoring flesh seeking any part of him in mindless pursuit of relief. Her begging became a litany until he dragged an electric hand between her thighs, tormenting his way to her core. The heel of his thumb delved between her outer lips at the same moment the damp furnace of his mouth finally clamped over one of the nipples that screamed for his possession. Sensations slashed her nerves.
Supporting her collapsing weight with an arm around her hips, he slid two fingers between her molten inner lips, stilling at her entrance. “I didn’t think that I’d ever see you like this, open for me, on fire, hunger shaking you apart, that I would be able to pleasure you like this….”
He spread her legs, placed one after the other over his shoulders, opening her core for his pleasure and possession. Her moans now merged into an incessant sound of suffering.
