“It’s called tenacity,” she informed him sweetly. “It’s what’s gotten me this far with you, Khalid. Are you regretting it?”
“Are you?” She wished she could avoid those heated looks as easily as she could avoid his touch.
“What I’m feeling at the moment isn’t up for discussion,” she answered him with a bright smile as she used one of his own tactics in response to his question. “I believe you’re the one we’re discussing. What do my fathers think you’re being paranoid about?”
“Joe doesn’t think I’m paranoid about anything.” He moved around her until his chest was at her back, his head lowering so he could stroke his cheek against her hair.
Subtle. Tempting. He was using her own tactics on her by seducing her, and it was working.
“My godfather does. He’s usually fairly smart where some things are concerned. And it was more than obvious he was attempting to bring us to the point of an argument. So whatever you’re trying to hide from me must involve me quite a bit.” She sounded breathless. She was breathless.
His hands stroked down her bare arms as his lips whispered over the flesh of a shoulder left bare by the sleeveless top she wore.
“Zach is angry.” His teeth raked over the rounded curve of her shoulder.
Shards of sensation raced down her spine, exploded in her clit. She was growing so wet, so slick, she had to clench her thighs to keep from moaning.
“Why is Zach angry?” Her lashes fluttered closed as his hands gripped her hips and pulled her back.
The feel of the hard length of his cock beneath his jeans as it pressed into her lower back had her breath catching in jerky response.
“Because I refuse to stay out of his daughter’s bed,” he stated, as she melted at the heated tone of his voice. “Because I refuse to distract you from investigating your attempted murder. Because I refuse to make you listen to my need to protect you rather than your own instincts.”
His lips moved from her shoulder to her neck, his tongue sensually touching her skin. She hated the fact that his explanation was clearly an attempt to evade her, yet it still sent a rush of pleasure racing through her system to hear his apparent willingness to understand her need to live her own life.
“That sounds like Zach,” she gasped, her head falling to the side in pleasure even as she acknowledged silently that he had managed to distract her without lying to her.
He didn’t have to lie. He had the power of his touch. That touch was enough to fry her brain.
“Now you are guilty of leaving my bed this morning.” He nipped at her neck in retaliation.
“Oh yeah. I did. I had things to do.” Things like following Shayne to find out what the hell he was being so sneaky about.
Khalid’s hands moved from her hips, his fingers curling in the material of her shirt to pull it slowly from her jeans. So slowly. The silk slid up her midriff, over the lacy bra, and finally cleared her head.
It pooled to a small puddle on the floor as his hands moved to cup the heaving mounds of her breasts.
Pleasure suffused her as the sheer joy she felt from his touch began to build within her. She had waited so long. She had fantasized, dreamed, ached for him, and finally, she was sharing his bed. Perhaps not his heart yet, but definitely his pleasure, and not as a third. He was her lover. It was his bed she slept in, his arms that surrounded her and held her through the night when rumor was that holding a lover through the night was something he wasn’t known for.
His fingers circled her nipples, tugged at them, sent racing bolts of exquisite heated sensations racing straight to her clit. She was going to burn in his arms. She was going to melt to a puddle on the floor and beg him to fuck her within seconds.
“What sort of things did you have to do, little flower?” The front clip of her bra was tugged loose as he abandoned her nipples to relieve her of the restrictive garment.
“Things.” She nearly moaned the word as his fingers caressed the sensitive sides of her breasts before brushing delicately against her nipples.
“What sort of things did you have to do, precious?” He chose that moment to exert just enough pressure on her nipples to have her back arching, a strangled cry tearing from her throat.
Reaching back for him, desperate to touch him now, to feel more of the incredible pleasure he gave her, Marty gave a low, ecstatic moan as she fought for more pleasure.
“Not yet, little flower.” Catching her wrists in his hand, he locked them behind her back, keeping her arched against him as his free hand moved to the snap of her jeans.
“Push your sandals from your feet,” he commanded, his tone rich with lust.
Stumbling, her knees weak, Marty did as he ordered while the zipper of her jeans gave a light hiss as he lowered it.
“Now, we were discussing the things you had to do this morning,” he reminded her.
“No,” she gasped, as his free hand slid into the parted fabric and eased beneath the low band of her panties. “You were discussing them.”
His chuckle was low, dark. “You’re being very naughty.”
“So spank me… Oh God, Khalid.” She couldn’t hold back the cry as his fingertips glanced over the swollen knot of her clit.
It was exquisite. Pleasure raced through her pussy, around her clit, suffused her body.
“Spank you. I could do that,” he assured her, as his hand pulled from her jeans, only to begin pushing the snug material over her hips. “I could really get into that, Marty. Watching your pretty ass blush, hearing you beg for more.”
She was already ready to beg for more. He didn’t have to spank her to get that.
He worked the jeans down her thighs and below her knees. “Step from the jeans, precious.”
She stepped from the material, dressed in nothing but panties dampened by her desire. The silk clung to the bare curves of her sex as his hand slid up her thigh.
Her hands were still held behind her back, and she ached to touch him, to feel his flesh beneath her palms, against her skin.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, and turned her until she was facing the antique, full-length mirror that sat in the corner of the library.
She looked so wanton. Arched back in his arms, her breasts swollen, her nipples flushed. Pale rose panties barely covered the mound of her pussy, and she could see the dampness at the crotch.
She watched as his hand moved to the panties. She expected him to push them over her thighs. He gripped the side, and with a quick movement the fragile material rent and fell away.
A gasp tore from her lips as the motion caused a flare of wicked pleasure to tear through her womb.
She was naked. Her pussy gleamed with her juices, the flesh flushed with need.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered at her ear.
Behind her, Khalid was fully dressed, but his expression was filled with such stark hunger that it didn’t seem to matter.
She spread her legs, watching in the mirror as his fingers slid between them, parted the swollen curves, and revealed the glistening bud of her clit.
“Watch,” he breathed against her ear. “See what I see when I touch you. Watch the pleasure your body fills with.”
The tip of his finger began to circle her clit, rubbing against it, around it, sending such electrically charged sensations tearing through her that her hips jerked against the caress.
“Pretty, pretty, little flower,” he groaned, his voice becoming darker, more remote, more foreign. “Open for me, love. Let me watch my fingers take what my cock is dying for.”
He released her arms, allowing them to curl around his neck as his fingers slid lower, circled the sensitive opening, then two pressed forcefully inside the heated ache of her pussy.
The sudden impalement stretched delicate tissue, revealed sensitive nerve endings, and sent her juices flowing over his fingers as tiny pinpoints of detonating heat began to flare inside her.
Feminine muscles clenched around his fingers, trembled against the penetration, and tried to draw them deeper inside her.
“Khalid, please.” The plea was torn from her throat. “Don’t torture me.”
She felt too sensitive; the room was too hot. Perspiration gathered on her brow, her breasts. The whisper of the AC against her nipples was almost painful. The rasp of his clothing against her back had her flesh aching for his bare skin.
“Torture you?” His voice was midnight velvet, rasping over her senses with erotic intent. “Ah, sweet love, torture is the last thing I had in mind.”
10
It was almost enough.
Khalid stared at the image in the mirror, watching as he fucked the sweet heat of Marty’s pussy with two fingers. With his free fingers he held the silken folds apart, giving a better view of the penetration of her body.
Sweet silky juices spilled along his fingers, the darker flesh glistening against the pale peach tone of her intimate folds.
The pad of his palm brushed against her clit, perfectly timed to each thrust inside the milking depths of her sex.
It was exquisite. The little moans spilling from her throat had his cock throbbing, his balls drawing tight enough that the erotic pain was almost too much to bear.
He wanted nothing more than to sink the heavy width of his dick inside her, but this, this was a pleasure he didn’t want to end.
Her body was drawn almost rigid as it trembled with the sensations tearing through her. Her gaze was locked on the mirror, on his fingers as he played with the intimate recesses of her body.
“I love the feel of your sweet pussy,” he groaned, as he stroked the internal muscles and felt them clench tighter around his fingers. “There, precious. Suck my fingers inside you. Show how much you love my cock when I get inside you.”
The explicit words caused a heavy flush to stain her cheeks, and her juices flowing around his fingers.
“I love watching you,” he whispered at her ear. “Seeing your pleasure, hearing you beg for more. I’d love to watch you going crazy with my cock up your ass. Stretched tight around me and screaming at the pleasure of it.”
He swore she tightened to a breaking point as more of her lush cream flooded his fingers.
“You like that, don’t you, Marty?” He kissed her neck gently, all the while his gaze moving between her face and her swollen pussy. “Every time I watch you walk, I imagine you bent over, that sweet, pretty ass lifted for me, my dick pushing inside as you cry out my name.”
He imagined much more than that as well.
His fingers stroked inside her again, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He’d end up coming in his jeans if he didn’t get his dick inside her soon.
Keeping his fingers locked inside her, Khalid used his free hand to release his jeans and pull the tortured length of his cock free.
Stroking his hand along the agonized shaft he watched her, feeling the response of her body as he pulled back enough to tuck the heavy length against the cleft of her rear.
Her eyes dilated with anticipation and pleasure. Little tremors of response shook her body as her pussy sucked at his fingers and made him crazy to fuck her properly.
“What would it be like, do you think? To be taken, back and front. To know your body is the center of complete pleasure?”
She was gasping for air, and Khalid realized he was nearly panting himself. God, the thought of it. His hips rolled, pressing his cock deeper into the narrow cleft of her ass.
“I want it soon,” he whispered. “To watch you, to hold you as Shayne fucks you. As his cock slides inside you while I touch you, caress you. While I see the response of your body and the pleasure tearing through you. He’s dying for it as well, Marty. Merely watching is making him insane for you. When we take you together, he’ll fuck you like a man driven crazy for the feel of your sweet pussy, or the tight grip of your tender ass.”
A whimper left her lips, then a cry, as he slowly slid his fingers free of her and turned her to face him.
He intended to lift her, to impale her. Instead, his beautiful, adventurous Marty went to her knees as her fingers curled around his cock.
Her lips parted and, as he watched, the dark, swollen head of his dick disappeared into the heated, damp depths of her mouth.
“Ah God.” His head fell back as he slid his fingers into her hair and clenched the strands desperately.
He swore the tip of his cock touched her throat as she sucked him inside. The vibrations of her moans against the sensitive flesh were destructive. He was too close to the edge, the trigger on his release was too damned touchy.
He was going to fill her mouth.
“Marty.” The groan that tore from him was thick, rasping with the agonizing need tearing through him. “Sweet love. Keep it up and I’ll fill your mouth. Is that what you want, sweetheart?”
She didn’t stop. The fingers of her free hand curled around his balls, stroked, massaged him as her sweet, hot mouth sucked him with hungry intent.
Her tongue curled beneath the head, licked against the ultrasensitive area that had him clenching his teeth to hold back his release.
“Suck it.” He couldn’t hold back the explicit words now, the need to show her, the only way he knew how, the exquisite pleasure tearing through him. “Fuck yes, baby. Suck it deep. Hell, suck it until I come, Marty. Give me that sweet, hot mouth.” His voice was more strained, rougher, darker.
He could feel the impending release building in his balls. Like a tight knot of energy it began there, exploded, raced up his spine, then shot back to detonate in his dick.
His hips jerked, thrust forward, and the brilliant, white-hot sensation of tortured pleasure consumed him as he began to fill her mouth with his release.
She took it. She took him. Each hard spurt of liquid lust that shot into her mouth, she consumed, moaned, and took more.
It felt as though it would last forever. An agony, a pleasure he didn’t want to end but swore he couldn’t endure.