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‘Don’t make me wait,’ Britt was begging him.
She needn’t worry. His preference at this moment was to please her.
This was insane. Emir was cold, detached—and the sexiest thing on two legs. He was frighteningly distant, but she was lost in an erotic haze of his making. She needed more—more pressure, more contact—more of him. The more aloof he was, the more her body cried out to him. The ache he’d set up inside her was unbearable. She had to have more of his skilful touches—
An excited cry escaped her throat when she felt the insistent thrust of his erection against her belly. She rubbed herself shamelessly against it, sobbing with pleasure as each delicious contraction of her nerve endings gave some small indication of what was to come. Emir’s hard, warrior frame was even more powerful than she had imagined, and yet he used his hands so delicately in a way that drove her crazy for him. Lacing her fingers through his thick black hair, she dragged him close. He responded by cupping the back of her head to keep her in place as he dipped down and plundered her mouth. Sweeping the table clear, he lifted her and balanced her on the edge. Moving between her legs, he forced them apart with the width of his body. ‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he commanded, pushing them wider still.
She had never obeyed a man’s instructions in her life, but she rushed to obey these. Resting her hands flat on the table behind her, she arched her spine, thrusting her breasts forward, while Emir reared over her, magnificent and erect.
Like a stallion on the point of servicing a mare?
With far more consideration than that—
Are you sure?
She was sure that any more delay would send her crazy. She was also sure that Emir knew exactly what he was doing.
‘Tell me what you want, Britt,’ he demanded fiercely.
‘You know what I want,’ she said.
‘But you must tell me,’ he said in low, cruel voice.
Her throat dried. The harsher he got, the more arousing she found it. No one had ever pushed her boundaries like this before. And she had thought herself liberal where sex was concerned? She was a novice compared to Emir.
She had also thought herself emotion-free, Britt realised, but knew deep in her heart that something had changed inside her. Even when she plumbed the depths of Emir’s cold black eyes she wanted to be the one to draw a response from him—she wanted to learn more about him, and in every way.
‘Say it,’ he instructed.
Her face blazed red. No one spoke to her like that—no one told her what to do. But her body liked what was happening, and was responding with enthusiasm. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, please.’ And then she told him exactly what she wanted him to do to her without sparing a single lurid detail.
Now he was pleased. Now she got through to him. Now he almost smiled.
‘I think I can manage that,’ he said dryly. ‘My only concern is that we may not have sufficient time to work our way through your rather extensive wish list.’
On this occasion, she thought. ‘Perhaps another time,’ she said, matching him for dispassion. But then she glanced at the door. How could she have forgotten that it was still unlocked? Just as she was thinking she must do something about it, Emir touched her in a way that made it impossible for her to move.
‘Don’t you like the risk?’ he said, reading her easily.
She looked at him, and suddenly she loved the risk.
‘Hold me,’ he said softly. ‘Use me—take what you need.’
She hesitated, another first for her. No one had ever given her this freedom. She moved to do as he said and found it took two hands to enclose him.
‘I’m waiting,’ he said.
With those dangerous eyes watching her, she made a pass. Loving it, she made a second, firmer stroke—
Taking control, Emir caught the tip inside her. She gasped and would have pulled away, but he cupped her buttocks firmly in his strong hands and drew her slowly on to him. ‘What are you afraid of?’ he said, staring deep into her eyes. ‘You know I won’t hurt you.’
She didn’t know him at all, but for some reason she trusted him. ‘I’m just—’
‘Hungry,’ he said. ‘I know.’
A sound of sheer pleasure trembled from her throat. She had played games with boys before, she realised, but Emir was a man, and a man like no other man.
‘Am I enough for you?’ he mocked.
She lifted her chin. ‘What do you think?’
He told her exactly what he thought, and while she was still gasping with shock and lust he kissed her, and before she could recover he thrust inside her deeply to the hilt. For a moment she was incapable of thinking or doing, and even breathing was suspended. This wasn’t pleasure, this was an addiction. She could never get enough of this—or of him. The sensation of being completely inhabited while being played by a master was a very short road to release.
