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“Yeah,” Phoebe called, her eyes still locked with Hakim’s. “Wait up.” She spun away from her groom and increased her pace, her insides shaking from their unpleasant interaction.
She was twelve years younger than him, but she was not immature. His implication smarted
. As for the assertion that she’d been cosseted, nothing could be further from the truth. Becca’s suite of rooms were a short walk from Phoebe’s. Without so much as looking for Hakim, she walked her friend to her accommodation, before slowly returning to her own rooms.
The fact that he had left without trying to resolve their argument would have upset Phoebe. But the fact that he was sitting, with a face set in an angry mask, on her sofa when she returned, somehow upset her more.
“What are you doing here?” She asked with an assumed air of impatience.
Hakim stood, and instantly overpowered the room with his size and presence. She realized, distractedly, that his bearing was unmistakably regal. The mark of a man who had been raised to rule, born to command. He believed unstintingly in his authority.
“Because, I realized you needed me.”
Her eyes sparked. “Needed you? For what?”
He swept across the room and kissed her, hard and passionately, his hands moving over her body with speed and purpose.
She moaned, hungrily, weakly, happily, as her body pressed to his with all its might.
“You are snappy, Phoebe, because you are frustrated.” He whispered in her ear, as he lifted the voluminous skirts of her dress and eased her underwear down her long legs. When she would have stepped out of the sky high heels her attendants had selected for her, he shook his head. “Leave them on. Come with me.”
Enthralled, she followed behind him.
A pang of delicious anticipation sparked inside of her when she realized that he was leading her to the very sexy, very intriguing room across the corridor. Only he didn’t stop in the room. He pulled her through it, to the door that she now knew led to his bedroom.
In response to her silent look of enquiry, he said, “Your room is not as sacrosanct as mine. No one would dare enter my private space without permission.”
“You didn’t care about that a few days ago,” she pointed out waspishly.
He compressed his lips. He hadn’t cared about her in quite the same way a few days ago. “Then you were not my fiancé.”
He gently pushed her down onto the bed. Her skirts fell like roses petals around her.
“I thought this isn’t allowed.” She said thickly.
“It isn’t. But you are too inexperienced to understand that your blood is simmering from thwarted desire. And so you are being deliberately argumentative.”
She opened her mouth to disagree, but his stern look froze the statement on her lips. “Fine. If you say so.” She muttered ungraciously.
He laughed softly, and strode across the carpet. “Oh, I know so.” He knelt on the edge of the bed, and leaned forward, so that he could lay hungry kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
She bucked as the sense of pleasure stole through her. “I need you,” she said huskily, arching her back as his lips moved higher and higher.
When his mouth touched her most feminine core, she cried out. It was a strange sensation. Her first instinct was to object, but he fixed her with a dark stare before she could speak. “You need to feel this.”
She shook her head. “I’m… embarrassed.”
His eyes narrowed, as he watched her thoughtfully. “You are very inexperienced.”
She flushed to the roots of her hair. “So?” She demanded defensively, lowering her eyes.
“So?” He parroted. “I love that I am the only man who has done this to you. But it makes me want to do it more.”
He kissed her again, moving his tongue teasingly along her moistness, letting out a deep, husky laugh when she cried out over and over again.
“Please, Hakim,” she was moaning, stretching her arms above her head. Again and again, she begged him to take her, and though his body was screaming at him to oblige, he kept his discipline in place. Barely. His arousal was so hard and throbbing that all he wanted was to plunge inside her and tip them both into the indescribable abyss of pleasure.
“I want you to come, Phoebe.” He lifted his head, and looked at her dress. “Stand up.”
