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She was inordinately fond of many things about him, he knew. She showed it with her eyes, hands and lips every day and night, her desires unleashed.
This was Heba wild and free. She was insatiable for his body, his kisses and touches. Jealous of his time and attention, her eyes following him wherever he went. Even when he didn’t look at her, he could feel her heated, covetous gaze upon him like a physical touch.
While their passion burned hot like the sun, never waning, he knew it wasn’t simply desire. Shelikedhim, and he liked her. She was affectionate and carefree with him in ways he knew she only demonstrated with those closest to her, whom she trusted implicitly. Their physical intimacies added another layer to their relationship that no other had with her.
Except her future husband, he must not forget.
Except for that, he was the one closest to her heavily guarded heart.
He told himself he should be satisfied. He wished it was enough.
But it wasn’t.
It never would be.
She cocked her head to the side and regarded him with a suspicious glint in her eyes.
“If a pretty woman at the festival wanted to dance with you, would you?”
Ah, the possessive little cat was sharpening her claws.
“I already have a pretty woman by my side,” he replied steadily. “My eyes do not wander.”
She leaned into him and gripped his sides, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush, and he was once again boxing her in.
“What if I’m not there all the time?” she whispered, looking down at his chest.
“What if there are many women far prettier andtaller?”
For some reason, she seemed to see her small stature as a detractor for her attractions.
He had certainly never said anything to lead her to this belief. He loved her smallness and fine features. Sometimes it seemed impossible, but the truth was that she was the perfect fit for him.
He decided to tease her just a little, for she was far too serious with that wrinkle in her brow.
“Hmm. Height is indeed an important aspect to consider.”
Her eyes flew to his, suddenly wounded, and he wished he could take back his words.
Instead, he added, before she could extrapolate further, “I find that the perfect height for me is a woman who reaches only my chest, the top of her head exactly at my sternum. She should be fine-boned but strong, like a feline warrior, lithe and graceful.”
She searched his eyes and released a breath, her own melting with clear relief when she realized that he was merely having a little fun.
And then, he took it further. He bent his lips to her ear and rasped:
“She should weigh as light as a feather in my arms so that I will never tire when I hold her where I want her, when I thrust deep into her body, stroking that swollen knot inside where only I can reach.”
She gasped, her lips falling open, her fingers digging into his waist, desperately holding on.
“She should fit me like a glove, always tight and wet. A little too tight when I first breach her opening, squeezing me like a silken fist. I must slowly make room for myself, isn’t that so? I must impale her anew each and every time. And yet she welcomes me with that slick grasping channel, her juices overflowing with her need.”
As if she couldn’t help it, her hands formed claws that attached themselves to his rump, another of her favorite qualities about him.
And now, it was one of his as well, for she showed him a pleasure he could never have imagined. A climax that would never end.
“She must be exactly the right size for me to move upon my cock however I wish,” he went on, nibbling along her neck now, grinding slowly into her cleft below as she stretched up on tiptoes, her feet almost entirely off the ground.
He could feel her wetness even through their clothes. Could smell it. Almost taste it, he was so in tune with her body by now.
