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She lifted the bottom of his billowing shirt, but he shook his head.
“Shoes first.”
She nodded, her tongue thick in her mouth. A pulse was beating heavily at the apex of her thighs. Naked, she crouched down and began to untie his shoes. As she lifted them from his feet, he pulled the pins from her hair, freeing it from the bun. It fell down her back like a pale wave.
Despite the fact she felt like her body might catch fire if he didn’t make love to her, she couldn’t resist asking, mockingly, “And now, sir?”
His eyes glowed. “Now, come here.” He hooked his finger through the air in a gesture for her to stand. She did, her eyes meeting his without fear.
“I want you to remove my shirt.”
She laughed. “Easily done.”
“Mmm,” he agreed. “Too easy. Let me add a handicap.” She jumped when his hand connected with the most private part of her body, a region that had been completely untouched by a man’s hand, mouth or body ever. Insistently, he ran his fingers across her entrance, his eyes heavy as he watched her face fill with color, her lips part on a ragged breath of need.
“My shirt,” he reminded her with a small smile.
Phoebe could barely move, her body felt so limp. She forced herself to concentrate, and she lifted the shirt over his head, and slid it down the arm that was connected to her body. He shook it free and then slid a finger inside her. Phoebe cried out at the unexpected invasion, her body collapsing against his as wave after wave of pleasure radiated through her.
“You are unbelievably wet. This pleases me.”
She nodded through gritted teeth, for speech was impossible.
“Now, my pants.”
Phoebe didn’t move. She couldn’t.
“Now,” he repeated, his tone demanding.
She nodded jerkily, and slipped her hands into his waistband, but as she moved them down his legs, she realized she would have to break their connection, and she was not willing to do that. She stopped, pressed against him, as waves of desire grew to a deafening crescendo.
“Finish,” he said, referring to his pants.
“I don’t want you to stop,” she complained, earning a laugh from the Sheikh.
“Good.” He slid another finger in. “I do not intend to stop for a long, long time, habibte.”
She whimpered against him, her body aflame with sensation, as she felt the first promise of an orgasm build inside her. Hakim saw the way she was shaking and withdrew his fingers.
“My pants.”
She looked at him, disappointment on her face.
“You will come when I want you to,” he dictated, lifting his fingers to his mouth and kissing them.
It was too erotic. Too sensual. She moaned out loud.
She reached for his pants and slid them down his legs. Only to remove them, she had to crouch to her knees again, and it brought her into direct contact with his arousal. “Oh,” she stammered, her mouth open as she first noticed his sheer size. Having never done what they were about to do, she had no idea how something like that could possibly be accommodated in her slender frame.
“Touch me.”
She obeyed, because she was desperate to. Tentatively, she ran her fingers down his length, marveling at how smooth and warm he was.
“What do you like?” He asked, reaching for her hand and pulling her to her feet. “In bed, I mean.”
“Oh,” she murmured, looking away from him shyly. “I told you… I have no real point of reference…”
The fact that she was clinging to this lie angered him. It infuriated him. They were going to become lovers. Did she think he wouldn’t be able to tell how experienced she was? “Let us remove this fallacy of your virginity from the equation immediately.”
