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“I thought he’d never leave.”
Jen yelped in delight as Numair did this incredible thing he always did. He appeared out of thin air and snatched her off her feet with the utmost ease, then drowned her in the staggering, cherishing power of his embrace.
She clung to him with everything in her as he strode eagerly with her across this unique place, nuzzling her face and lips into the power of his warm neck. At the villa’s far end, they entered the most stunning bedroom suite she’d ever seen. Though they were totally alone now, Numair still kicked the door closed, as he always did.
As he crossed to the king-size bed, she took in the tasteful decorations in what looked like authentic Zafranian antiques and handcrafted furnishings. Painted glass and copper lanterns hung from heavy chains, while complementing sconces hung on the walls. Bedouin jars and vases in varying sizes lay on shelves and tables and stood beside the heavy mahogany doors leading to the suite’s bathroom and dressing rooms. A braided-wood-and-straw chest sat at the end of the bed, while sofas with the same design and materials and ornate stone-and-bronze tables filled the sitting area facing the balcony doors. All over the floors and even on select places on the walls were hand-woven carpets in the deepest reds, honeys and browns, the same hues of the whole villa. And she suddenly realized.
All the colors in this place were hers!
She’d at first thought he’d bought this place furnished. But this was too specific to be a coincidence. He had to have done this for her, an answer to her bedroom in New York. But she couldn’t even imagine how and when he’d managed to order it done, and no doubt to oversee its realization to his precise vision. It was another proof that Numair was even more powerful than she could imagine.
But he’d taken it beyond matching her coloring. There were other incredible touches. For instance, binoculars on one table and a telescope by the balcony doors, to watch the animals in the morning and the stars at night. But what touched her to her core, had tears surging in her eyes, was an easel with every kind of canvas and paper and art material neatly stacked next to it.
She painted, and he must have noticed that most of the paintings hanging in her Tribeca apartment were desert landscapes. Anticipating that being here would stir her creativity again, he’d provided her with the means to indulge it whenever the mood struck.
Before she could thank him for being so unbelievably thoughtful, he passed the bed, opened the balcony doors and stepped outside to a wooden deck overlooking another, smaller infinity pool. By day the pool would spill out into a never-ending vista of the dramatic desert views. It was now a glittering turquoise splash in a night lit only by a nascent crescent moon and an explosion of sparkling stars. Numair wanted to make love out in the open, with only the canopy of sky and stars for cover.
In the middle of the expansive deck, a gigantic mattress was spread in covers the same deep mahogany red of her hair. He kneeled on it with her still securely held in his arms and tore the covers away before placing her down on the crisp cream sheets and coming down on top of her.
Crying out with the overload of emotions and sensations, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, her breath hitching, her body trembling, molten. It had been twelve hours since he’d made love to her, but with the way her senses were clamoring, ready and on the verge of combusting with his every touch, it felt like twelve days.
His hands alone possessed the ability to dissolve her shackles and release her potential, to expose her to his transfiguring appreciation. In a few hammering heartbeats, he had her open to his desire, making her all-powerful with it. Then his lips and tongue and teeth were all over her, making her feel as he always did, savored and worshipped and devoured.
Then he rose to expose himself to her hunger. She lay there unable to move with craving, her night-adjusted vision luxuriating in his star-silvered perfection.
He kneeled before her and she reached to caress his manhood. Hard and engorged, it felt as if it had been chiseled by virility gods and gifted with endless stamina and discipline. As her hands failed to span his incredible girth and length, the now-accustomed-to thrill of intimidation rattled through her. It again awed her that her hunger was so vast it enabled her to contain that much demand.
In response to her ministrations, his fingers shook in her
hair and his formidable body trembled over hers. Her heart expanded. Loss of control wouldn’t mean a thing from anyone else. But from Numair, with his supreme sufficiency and restraint, such a demonstration of dependence, such a confession of need, was profound.
What she felt was no longer about hunger, if it had ever been. The need had become all about him and being merged with him.
She cried out her desperation. “Numair, fill me...”
By the golden lights coming from the bedroom and the silver of the moon and stars, she saw the sequence of emotions unspooling across his face as her plea shattered him. He bore down on her, opened her wide around his hips, raised hers off the bed. He held her in one hand, the other supporting himself as he rose halfway on both knees. Then he plunged inside her.
Her scream at his abrupt invasion didn’t alarm him now. For he knew that she was yearning for the full power of his flesh in hers, the mutual domination and captivation. And he gave it all to her. He slammed into her, and she screamed for more, knowing he had more, as long as she could survive.
Then too soon, the tidal wave was cresting. Feeling her mounting distress, he rose on extended arms over her. Her gaze clung to his as he burned her with his greed for her total surrender and pleasure. When she started pleading, he angled his thrusts and sent her over the top.
Orgasms crashed through her, over and over, ebbing and cresting again and again. His mouth milked hers for each last stifled scream as she bucked and heaved beneath him, his growls that of the predator he was. On the jet, after their last explosive coupling, he’d said he’d end up dying in her arms of a pleasure overdose. Every time with him felt as if his prophecy would come to pass. What an ecstatic end that would be.
Once she subsided beneath him, he stopped for a while then started again, building his rhythm and her desperation until she pleaded for him to plunge with her this time into the abyss of ecstasy.
Growling with satisfaction at her resurrected hunger, then with his own desperation for release, he let himself go and climaxed inside her. His buttocks tightened hard as he lodged himself into her womb and let loose the jets of completion, roaring his pleasure, his surrender to this overpowering need between them.
The sensation of his release inside her, the intimacy of it, the hope that it would implant the miracle of a life they both wanted to make together... Everything overloaded her system into another orgasm. One more powerful than the last.
She surrendered to the ultimate pleasure, and the world faded away, as usual, nothing remaining in existence but him and being merged with him...
* * *
When she stirred from blissful oblivion, she found herself over him, beneath thick covers, with the balmy desert night sifting through her hair.
Without moving, she pressed her lips over his heart.
“Thank you.”
