AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was torture. Her head rocked from one side to the other. Exquisite torture—but still it wasn’t enough.
His hand ran down the length of her leg, floating down the silken layers of her skirt, and then up again, this time shucking the filmy fabric out of his path. Nerve endings screamed along the length of her body, sending off needle-like charges that speared direct to just one place.
She felt liquid inside, molten, as his hand caressed her thigh—close, so close—and then he touched her there and her back arched as light like a flash bulb went off in the recesses of her closed eyes. His touch was gentle, sensual, erotic and she felt herself responding to him, opening, yielding.
Yet still it wasn’t enough.
‘Khaled,’ she pleaded, her hands tangled in his hair, wanting an end to the waiting, an end to the anticipation. ‘Please.’
He lifted his head from her breast and looked up at her, his dark eyes smouldering, so heavy with intent that it rocked her.
‘Nothing could give me greater pleasure,’ he said, raising himself up to his knees and tugging down his cotton trousers. Her eyes followed the motion, held captive by the sheer beauty of his form, unable to tear her eyes away from his sculpted torso, his flat stomach and down further, where the cotton fabric provided no restraint…
And then he was free and anticipation gave way to apprehension.
He was magnificent.
She swallowed, suddenly less sure of herself. But he allowed her no chance to reconsider as he leant over, his mouth meshing with hers, telling her in no uncertain terms that whatever her concerns, he had none.
She lost herself again in his mouth as he pressed himself close to her and in a few deft moves she realised that her skirt had been efficiently despatched and her legs laid bare. Then his fingers slid under the lace of her thong until even that was slipped away and awareness and expectation washed over her like a tide.
Thigh against thigh. Breast against breast. Skin against skin. They rolled together on the bed, a tangle of limbs, and with the hot promise of more. And with the last barriers gone, there was nothing to stop them. She was glad. She wanted him inside her, so he could be part of her, so they could be part of each other.
He rolled away suddenly and she felt cold, exposed, until she realised what he was doing. But by then he was back and her mind processed his sensible actions with gratitude and appreciation.
And it meant, oh, it meant that soon there would be an end to this endless aching need.
He held her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly on her eyes, her cheeks, her chin as the seconds spun out in the suspense of waiting for the inevitable.
Inevitable.
Ever since Khaled had entered Bacelli’s salon, this moment had been unavoidable. Even from that first moment the attraction between them had been apparent. And ever since then it had been building, smouldering away, gathering force in spite of all that had happened to force them apart, despite all she had done to protect herself.
This moment was her destiny, her fate.
He took her mouth again as he raised himself up onto his elbows, positioning himself above her. His eyelids were heavy, his brow glossed satin with sweat.
She felt his weight, settling at her entrance, testing, probing, and instinctively she lifted her hips to welcome him with her own slick need, wanting him closer still, needing the completion, needing to have him deep inside.
And then he was. He plunged full length, driving his hips into hers, throwing back his head as if in triumph as his back arched over her.
Time stood still. She was unable to breathe, unable to think, unaware of anything beyond the exquisite sensation of him stretching her, of him filling her completely.
And then he moved inside her and a new wave of nerve endings came into play. Slowly he withdrew, only to fill her again and then again, and with each thrust the sensations grew, the pleasure mounted, wave upon wave of sheer ecstasy, building, always building.
She could feel his tension in his corded arms, she could sense his own battle for control, she could feel her mounting need for release mirrored in his own as the waves rolled in, the rhythm quickening and threatening to carry her away.
And then he took her there himself, with one final thrust that sent them both spiralling, shattering out of control, sending a tidal wave of sensation crashing over them, violent and primal, until it left them sweat-slickened and panting, their bodies spent, like so much driftwood left on the shore.
It was enough. She came to slowly, her pulse steadying, her body humming, dimly aware that, while it was still late at night, this was a brand-new day; and that, although she was still Sapphy Clemenger, on another level she was a stranger, even to herself.
She looked at him, settled into her shoulder, his eyes closed, his steadying breaths warm on her breast, his beautiful body majestic even in repose.
