holding her still as he continued to kiss her, the strokes of his tongue slow and languorous against hers, then ferocious and hungry.
He moved his hand up, pushing her top up, making contact with her bare back. A short sound of pleasure escaped her lips.
“Good?” he asked against her mouth.
“Oh, yes.”
He took both hands and moved them up her waist, his thumbs curving beneath her breasts, so close and so far, teasing her, tormenting her. She arched, begging him, needing him to give her more.
He chuckled, ignored her offering as he continue to move his hands over parts of her body that shouldn’t have the power to send such erotic currents through her.
But they did. Her stomach, just below her belly button, to the top of the low waistband of her shorts, back up, thumbs skimming the plump flesh of her breasts without ever really touching them. Without ever satisfying the ache that burned within her.
He moved his hand to her back again, down so that both palms were flat on her backside. He pulled her into his body, let her feel the hard length of his erection pressing against her stomach. She rocked against him, seeking out any kind of satisfaction she could find, getting nothing but a tease.
And that only made her hotter, wetter, needier for more.
He knew it, too. He broke their kiss and looked at her, his eyes black in the dim light, his smile wicked, predatory. She was his prey, and he was clearly set on devouring her.
She shivered in anticipation. She had no problem with that scenario.
He lowered himself slowly, his lips soft on her neck, then the tip of tongue, gliding down between the valley of her breasts as his hands traveled upward, pushing her top up, his bare skin brushing her stomach, higher, to her breasts.
He went to his knees, pressed a hot kiss to her stomach. He fingered the edge of her camisole. “Assistance?”
She gripped the hem and pulled it up over her head, baring her upper body to him. She waited for embarrassment of some kind to hit, but it never did. She felt cocooned in the space, in the near darkness. It was their own place, and there simply wasn’t room for embarrassment in it.
He pushed her shorts down to her ankles and she stepped out of them, kicking them aside. She was completely naked now, and it was fine. More than fine.
He moved his hands over her bare hips, thighs, around to her butt. “You are incredible.” He pressed a kiss to her stomach again, tracing a line downward with the tip of his tongue. She moved her hands to his shoulders, holding on to him to keep from sinking into a puddle on the floor.
He teased her there, too. His tongue so close to the bundle of nerves that she knew was there just to send her over the edge into total, orgasmic bliss. He didn’t, though, even though she had no doubt he could with the slightest flick of his talented tongue. He simply teased, his tongue moving over tender skin, making her body shiver with delight.
He stood suddenly, pausing to look at her, that wicked smile, the most genuine show of emotion beyond anger that she’d seen, was still on his face.
“The bed,” he said.
And she knew it was an order. One she would gladly follow.
She walked backward, keeping her eyes locked with his, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She sat down, pushed herself backward. It put her in a vulnerable position, like a buffet spread out for a starving man.
He joined her on the bed, his hands moving over her curves as he kissed her mouth with ravenous need.
He cupped her breasts, teased her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure skittering through her veins. He moved his other hand between her thighs, pushing two fingers near her entrance gathering the moisture there and sliding it over to her clitoris.
The slick stimulation was so good, everything she’d been waiting for. She didn’t bother to suppress the groan of pleasure that climbed her throat.
He leaned toward her, flicked his tongue over nipple, then laved it with a long, broad stroke. “Oh, Zahir.”
She paused then, afraid that she’d make him stop. Afraid she’d ruined it again.
A dark intensity lit his eyes and he dipped his head again, sucking the tip of her breast deep into his mouth, then running his tongue around the edge of her nipple.
“Say it again,” he said roughly.
She never thought to do anything but comply. “Zahir.”
“Again,” he said, kissing her stomach, beneath her belly button.
“Zahir.”
He parted her thighs with his broad shoulders, his grip on her legs keeping her immobile. Keeping her just where he wanted her.
He stroked her aching flesh, rubbing the tips of his fingers over her that most sensitive part of her again.
He lowered his head and followed the same path his fingers had just taken with the flat of his tongue. So hot and slick, so much more intense than anything that had come before. He explored her, pleasured her that way until she was certain she was going to have to shed her skin to find some relief from the tightening, spiraling sensation that made everything in her feel too large for her body.
He pushed one finger into her and stars exploded behind her eyelids, raining down on her, leaving little prickles of heat where they landed as wave after wave of pleasure moved in her, pulsing in time with her internal muscles.
She felt shell-shocked, numb and sensitized at the same time. Like it was too much and not enough.
Zahir moved up to lie beside her, caressing her face, stroking her hair, scattering kisses on her shoulder. His erection pressing hard and insistent against her hip.
“Now what?” she asked, making a move to cup his shaft.
He caught her hand in his, kissed her upturned palm. “More of the same.”
He leaned in and kissed her mouth, and she started to melt again.
WHEN the last shudder of pleasure escaped her lips, Zahir stood from the bed. Katharine rolled to her side and watched him. He was still half-dressed, and physically unsatisfied, his erection evident, pressing against his pants.
“Come here,” she said, more than ready for that next step. He’d brought her to orgasm three times, and it was time, not just for his pleasure, but for her to have him. She didn’t know why, but it felt possessive. Like he would belong to her when she had him inside of her.
“I think that’s enough, don’t you? Not that I haven’t enjoyed watching you take your pleasure.”
“Come and get some of your own,” she said, not entirely understanding his cryptic statement.
“I’ve had plenty of it this evening. Tasting you, touching you, that was pleasure enough.”
“Zahir … “
He turned away from her, the moonlight filtering through the window, catching the raised ridges of flesh that marred his back. “You are a virgin?”
“I … at this point only a technicality.”
“You should remain that way then.”
“Isn’t that up to me?” she asked, clutching the bedcovers to her bare breasts and pushing herself into a sitting position.
“And me. If I do not wish … “
“You don’t wish to be with me?” She looked down at the clear outline of his arousal. “I call foul on that.”
“Tell me, is this virginity of yours a part of my marriage bargain?”