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She nodded and wiped at her eyes. “Then this part is going to sound incredibly stupid because it’s the most shallow thing, but I have to be honest too. Part of my fear is that you won’t lo…like me,” she corrected quickly. Neither of them had confessed their love to each other, even though she lost her heart utterly to Jamsheed, and she knew that now. “I’m going to get so fat.”
“You think I care about that?”
“Yes?”
He snorted and stroked her hair. “If all of your beautiful red hair fell out, if you were bald as a crone, I’d still adore you. If you had boils or a hacking cough or even horns…”
She nodded. “I get it, and let’s not give Fate any ideas.”
“I think there will be no more sexy or enticing a sight on Earth than you before me and with your belly rounded with child.”
“Children,” she corrected. “With three children. As in the number after two. I’m going to need my own zip code and flares or one of those side trucks to trail behind me with a sign saying ‘wide load.’”
Jamsheed stood and started to strip off his clothes. “Jazmina will take some time gathering everything.”
“And?”
He unbuckled his pants and let them fall to the floor and then worked quickly on shedding his Oxford shirt. This was the part of the day she loved the best. They had sex every day since she came to Zomelia except when he had to travel on business. In fact, it had been a week since they’d been intimate. However, every time he did take off his shirt, Brenda was treated to one of the most glorious sights on earth: Jamsheed’s bare chest.
He didn’t have the Schwarzenegger muscles of someone who lived at the gym, but his lean swimmer’s build was amazingly sculpted. He had broad shoulders that tapered into a thin waist. His torso was carved as if he were a Greek god come to life, and she had, on more than one occasion, traced her tongue over the ample ridges of his eight pack.
For now, at least, she was his, and he was the most handsome man she’d ever known.
“Now, will you be a good girl and slip off your pants for me?” he asked, his voice so low and husky that wetness was already pooling between her legs.
She nodded and slipped the yoga pants off, shimming them off her hips as best as she could from her position on the mattress. “I’ll always do anything for you, my sheikh.”
“Not always, and I love that about you,” he said, stalking up from the foot of the bed with the grace of a jungle cat. “You’re fiery and stubborn, phoenix, and I need that from somebody.”
He emphasized his point by kissing his way up her left leg, inch by inch, as his right hand traced a pattern over her leg. It felt like Fourth of July sparklers were crackling and coming to life all over her skin, the heat and unpredictability of it cause warmth to flare from her belly to her core and the wetness to spread even further. Jamsheed kissed her knee, letting his tongue play across the joint. Then he raised his head.
“I’d never get tired of this, never grow tired of you, and I need you to understand that. I know it’s hard, but I care about you so much, my sheikha. I’d never give this title to anyone else. Soon my bride.”
He went back to his ministrations, now trailing his tongue up her thigh and reaching the apex of her thighs. Running the tip of his nose along her inner thigh as if savoring her, he drew the fingers of his right hand up and to her most delicate lips. They stroked her folds carefully, painting patterns there until he fully opened them. His forefinger pressed against her precious pearl and more sparklers exploded over the length of her body, the light and heat of it arcing over her body. Then he lunged forward.
His tongue was on her folds, lapping over them like a man dying for water in the desert. Jamsheed wrapped his lips around her rosebud and applied just the barest hint of pressure. The sparks were like a riot through her body, an assault of light and heat that drove her mad. Gentle flicks gave way to intense, demanding suckling and she knew what he was doing, could hear him as he laved up her juices as if they were the sweetest nectar of the most valued honey pot.
His goatee scraped just a bit against her thigh, that tickle of scruff that drove her mad, and she screamed even as she dug her heels more deeply into the mattress.
“God, yes, Jamsheed. Please never stop.”
His pacing increased as he slid two, thick fingers inside of her channel, filling her almost as surely as if his length were inside her as well. There was no true replacement for his erection, but his broad digits came close. She bucked her hips up to meet him as his lips and tongue and fingers did naughty things to her body, as the contented slurps he made blended with her screams in the morning air.
Then he applied just the slightest hint of teeth to her nub of nerves, and she came, her body erupting into fireworks more bright and vibrant than any New Year’s Eve celebration. When she was aware of herself again, sat up on her bed. Jamsheed had gone to the bathroom to clean up and returned soon in boxers but no shirt, a concession to her that she adored.
She still wanted more and knew that once she recovered she’d take care of him in turn, ride him like the wild mustang he was.
He slipped into the bed beside her and she spooned up against his glorious chest. “Do you understand now even a fraction of what you mean to me?”
“Yes,” she said. “I just hope everything will be okay.”
“I know it will be.”
