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“Would that change how you answered?”
Nomi had a terrible feeling she was about to fuck this all up, but he’d asked for, demanded, honesty and communication.“The correct response would be ‘no.’It shouldn’t matter because it’s your decision what happens next.”
“But in reality…” He raised his brows, inviting her to finish the statement.
“But in reality, I could answer a dozen different ways and it would still be an honest answer.Sexy is relative to how I’m feeling.”
“That’s fair.”
“But if I thought you were going to use whatever I said as a guide to what to do next, I’d pick one that was…”
“That was what?”
“I’d pick one that wouldn’t have a high risk of damaging one of us, either emotionally or physically.”
Tareq considered her for a long moment, then scooted forward.The width of his shoulders forced her knees wider.
“First of all, I assure you I don’t need suggestions.I have plenty of plans for this pretty body.”
He stroked her stomach—which made her wince—her breasts, and then slid one hand up to her neck, fingertips painting circles on her neck under her ear.
“Second, I specifically said it didn’t have to be realistic, didn’t I?”
“Yes, Sir.”The feel of his fingers on that sensitive skin was distracting.It was just short of ticklish, and made the occasional shiver run down her spine.
“If your fantasy is to be the captive of a two-dicked dragon… That’s not a fantasy I can fulfill.”He paused, considering.“The best I could do is DP.”
His fingers stilled on her neck, his thumb sliding into place so his hand circled her throat.
“I’m glad you asked your question.Glad you were honest about your answer being dependent on what I’d do with the information.”
His hand tightened, a firm pressure that didn’t restrict either air or blood, but hinted at the possibility.
“But I made my question specific and clear.”His tone was deeper and scolding.“I asked you for your sexiest fantasy, no matter how outrageous or unrealistic.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry for not listening more carefully.”
His thumb moved, pressing against the corner of her jaw.He kept pressing, forcing her to tip her head back so she was looking up at the ceiling.
“And for not trusting me,” he prompted.“But we barely know one another, so I can’t fault you too much for not trusting me.”
She did trust him.She trusted this man.She trusted him not just with her body, but with her stories and secrets.
He released her neck, and Nomi dropped her chin, looking at him through her lashes.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“No need to be sorry.”He sat back, lounging like a king on his throne.“Just answer my question.”
Nomi closed her eyes, thinking.Fantasies were odd things, made both of wanting and fear.Fantasies were pleasure in the safety of imagination, but brought out into the light and placed in the context of reality, the horror of them shone through.
“I like to read,” she said after a moment.
“Nomi, I didn’t ask for caveats and justifications.”The words were a reprimand, but the sentiment behind them was acceptance.He didn’t need or want her to justify her fantasy.
