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“I just… why?”
He shucked off his jeans, and her mouth watered at the sight of his erection, the thickness of him springing free. She’d been with a few men over her years. Yet she’d never seen one in person as long and thick as his.
She licked her lips and her rosebud quivered between her legs.
“Are you on the pill?” he asked. “I would do this either way, but I wanted to know if this would be a fruitful attempt.”
“Emphasis on the fruit?” she said, her voice taking on wry tone. Brenda laughed, letting the tension of the last little bit leave from her. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d guard her heart. Tonight, there was him and the destiny threading between them.
“Indeed,” he said, climbing over her.
She relished that feeling, the heft of him over her, the scrape of his stubble against her cheek. That turmeric hanging in the air between them—spice and exoticness and promises. Oh, the promise.
His member pressed against her opening, and she dug her heels into the divan.
“Please, I need you, my sheikh.”
Jamsheed leaned lower and brushed his nose against the side of throat. “I’ll give you everything, my phoenix.”
“Thank you.”
His length slid inside of her honey pot, inch by tantalizing inch. The heat of him, the girth, all of it filled her in a way that she’d never felt before. She was complete in a way that she’d never been, beyond him filling her core, as if his soul was filling her own as well. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, and Brenda blinked them away rapidly.
God, don’t let him see you cry.
She knew what this was, knew it was just a deal. He made promises to her that it could be more, but there were no guarantees. That was what she knew of life. Walls had to be kept up, boundaries maintained.
No guarantees.
There was just the here and now, and for right now, he was inside of her, thrusting thoroughly and plumbing her depths. She wrapped her legs around his waist, angling her body so that he could hit just the right spot. His member brushed against her pearl, and she screamed.
“God, yes, just like that.”
Eyes wide open, she watched as he pumped into her. His jaw was set in a grim line and his amber eyes bored into her own. Again, that sense of connection flared between them. It was as if the sheikh could see through her, see into her very soul. That connection, so very powerful, almost as if a cord tying between them, tethering her to him and to Zomelia now.
The waves crested higher and higher and she was so close.
Then, he came. His seed flooded inside of her and it was as if her very womb clenched with it. The waves crescendoed, sweeping her away in a tsunami of heat and need and ecstasy. She shuddered under all of it, and the lay back against the divan as her body tried to regain its strength.
Jamsheed cleaned himself. Lying down with her, he held her close and stroked her hair, careful around the broaches now only half-attached to her waves and braids. “Just rest, my phoenix, my sheikha. Rest, and everything else will come, I promise.”
As her eyes drifted shut, only one thought flittered through her mind.
I wish that were true.
