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She offered him a pained smile, it was the best she could do to try and match his own expression. “I promise we’ll work to save your kingdom, that I’ll honor my end of the bargain, but let’s not promise anymore tonight. We have to see how things go, if both our hearts can take it. Right now, Jamsheed?”
“Yes, my fiery phoenix?”
“Just fuck me. It’s the only thing we can agree on.”
He nodded and led her back to the collection of silk pillows on the divan, far from the food and rest of the furniture. If she’d been thinking more clearly, she might have noticed a set up when she saw one.
But it wasn’t a set up, not really. It was a trade. She needed to feel… anything, really, and he needed an heir. As long as she remembered it wasn’t about her as a person, that he didn’t love her, then her heart wouldn’t get crushed.
She sat down on the divan and leaned her head back. He kissed her lips, hungrily, like a man who’d been starving at sea and finally come home to feast, as if they hadn’t tasted each other in the past. His tongue swept over hers with such urgency that she almost would have thought this was a dying man living out his last wish. Then he nibbled at her lower lip, scraped his teeth over it just so that it left her moaning under his onslaught, left her mewling and arching her neck more overtly.
He took that cue as well, moving his mouth from hers, positioning his teeth so they skidded lightly over the soft skin of her neck. As he did that, it was like a small, gentle wave of warm water lapped at her body, tickled her belly and her inner core. Then he laved at her neck, licking and suckling at it with enough force that she knew she’d be marked in the morning, bruised with hickies.
It seemed fair, seemed right. She was going to do what he needed, be who and what he needed. In exchange, she should be marked as well. She would be able to show that the sheikh of Zomelia was hers… at least until he changed his mind.
Jamsheed pulled away from her for just a moment. “Can you take off your top? I want to ask permission for everything.”
She bit back a snarky comment about how now he wanted full disclosure now that she was in the deserts of a foreign country with him, but she didn’t. Sarcasm was for the young and disaffected, for girls putting up fronts. Brenda should know. She was long since grown, and she knew she made her own decisions. Now she was embracing those choices, no matter how reckless they might become.
So, she snaked her hands behind her back and undid the few straps that kept it in place and let the bandolier fall to the floor beside her. Brenda sat up straighter, letting the sheikh appraise the appeal of her breasts. He licked his lips at her dusky-rose peaks, then reached out and planted one big palm—hands still surprising her with their callused nature—on each of her soft mounds.
He kneaded them, massaging them with expert aplomb. His talented mouth was back on her own, his tongue twisting with and teasing her own. She mewled under him, and then, without realizing it, thrust her body against his, shoving her legs towards his own. The words escaped from her mouth, muffled by his onslaught but still obvious between them.
“More.”
“I can make this feel so good, phoenix. I can make you roll in waves of pleasure for hours.”
She nodded and broke away long enough to full see him, to see the hunger and need brimming in his eyes, like a ferocious tiger on the prowl. “I know, but this time, right now, I want you. I feel like I’m going to explode right now, blast apart into a thousand pieces. Please, just make me feel good now. There can be time for slow later.”
“Will there?”
She kissed him. “Please, my sheikh, don’t tease any longer. I’m desperate for you.”
His nostrils flared, and the wetness spread over her panties. Her body ached or him, her pearl throbbed between her thighs. Her feelings were more tangled than ever, but this wasn’t about them, not now. This was about the sensation, about diving over the cliff into the ocean of ecstasy before her and letting it sweep her out to sea.
“As you wish, my phoenix.”
His fingers threaded under the waist band of her pants and he tugged on them. Brenda took the cue and raised her hips up. The fabric of her pants and underwear slid easily off her legs, and she didn’t even shiver in the wind and the night’s chill.
Oh, she did shiver, but with anticipation. With need. She wanted him, even with all he’d done. She wanted him inside of her, to feel that complete.
He knelt before her, kissing his way up her left thigh and then nuzzled the soft thatch of hair between her legs. “So soft, like the most gentle of thickets.”
She laughed. “Those are lines for a younger girl, Jamsheed. I don’t need roses and violets, I don’t need purple prose, but I will say that, yes, I am a natural redhead.”
“I see that,” he replied, nuzzling her again. Jamsheed brought his head lower and then she bucked her hips as he traced his tongue over her most secret lips. She cursed loudly, glad they were out in the middle of nowhere in the desert.
“God, Jamsheed, never stop.”
His tongue flicked quickly over her sex, lapping up the juices there and occasionally tickling her pleasure button. The waves were crashing over her, all that pleasure and all that rapture, as if she were being tossed in a boat at sea. When he stood up, she dug her fingernails into the cushion of the divan in desperation.
“Am I being punished?!”
He laughed, a warm buttery sound, even as he unzipped his jeans. “Of course not.”
Brenda’s eyes widened. “I said that out loud?”
“I can’t blame you. I don’t think you’re aware of too much right now.”
