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Questions tore through his brain, even as fresh pleasure zigzagged through him. She was warm and soft, and with her hands on his shoulders, she undulated her spine in such an instinctive ripple that he was suddenly nearly all the way out of her slick clasp. Again and again, she wriggled her hips in a sinuous dance; figuring out her own rhythm and letting her use his body to seek out her pleasure was both a delight and a torment to him, and the slip-slide of their bodies created a symphony wholly their own.
She was trembling now, and Nasir stroked her, petted her, whispering nonsensical words into her skin, even as she gained momentum and confidence. Her rhythm was crude, a little erratic rather than smooth, and yet it was still the most erotic thing he’d ever known.
“At what point is this going to be less painful and more about pleasure?” she asked with a smile, and that husky voice pinged on his nerve endings. He laughed then, and he kissed her as if she was the most fragile, precious thing that had ever come to his hand. It wasn’t that hard because she was the most fragile, the most achingly lovely, thing he had ever held.
Slowly, softly, he thrummed his fingers all over her body, noting when she leaned in to the touch, and when another soft gasp escaped her mouth, feeling when she ground down. A more natural rhythm built as he started thrusting up when she brought herself down. The slap of her thighs against his, the tight tug of her fingers in his hair, the erotic slide of her breasts against his chest made his spine burn with his approaching climax.
Holding her back from him, he lifted her breast to his mouth and sucked until he could tell her own need for climax chased her. Fingers, lips, words, caresses, tongue, teeth... He used everything in his arsenal with a ruthlessness he’d long ago given up to drive her to the edge again, even as he held back his own climax by the skin of his teeth.
And then she was shattering yet again, calling out his name, as if he was the benediction, and not her, and her sex was milking him.
Nasir pushed her down onto the chaise still shuddering, and instantly, she wrapped her legs around his hips, creating the perfect cradle for him to sink into. They could have done this a hundred times before and it couldn’t have been as perfect. So right. So good.
He began with slow, deep thrusts, willing himself to enjoy this moment, even as selfish desire urged him to go faster, harder, to show her how needy he could get, to somehow mark her as she was doing him with such little effort. Hair billowing around her head, pupils blown up, her lush mouth trembling with explosive breaths, and his name on her lips...she took him straight over the cliff with her.
He came inside her, and it was the most explosive release he’d ever had. All he wanted was to do this over and over again. He wanted to make her fall apart again and again. He wanted to lose himself in her. He wanted tokeepher. And the arrogant thought released a host of other thoughts.
What a grave blunder he had committed just because his ego refused to be perceived as the man who’d done her wrong. What else could this be except a predatory urge to conquer her anger and her distrust and her wildness andher, in essence? Where else would this lead but to her pain and more scars at his hand when their relationship inevitably ended? What could he do to avoid that? What choices were left to him?
He’d closed himself off to feeling the very thing she wanted out of life, because he had nothing to offer her. Especially now he knew that beneath the numerous masks she wore, she was as vulnerable as a baby bird.
Contrary to the confusion wrecking his mind, though, he gathered her soft, trembling body to him, buried his nose in her neck and whispered sweet nothings into her skin long after she fell asleep like the fragile, trusting, wonderful woman she’d always been.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
INTHEEND, Nasir ended up carrying her to her bedroom, and Yana was sure a battalion of people had noticed her disheveled and thoroughly seduced state. Hiding her face in his neck, she thought she might have even heard Amina’s loud, disgruntled huff at seeing her son parade about the castle with his virgin lover in his arms, like a dark sacrifice he was bringing back to his lair.
And that made her giggle uncontrollably. So much so that it skated the edge of hysteria. Nasir tapped her lightly on the cheek as he placed her on his bed.
“Care to share what’s so funny?” he asked, locking her between his forearms, his torso leaning over her like a tantalizing shadow.
Yana writhed on the bed, loving the cool comfort of the sheets against her bare, overheated skin. The slick wetness between her legs coating her inner thighs and lower made itself known.
“I was trying to imagine how we must have looked to your mother.”
His mouth twitched. “That’s the last thing I need in my head right now.” When she continued to smile, he ran his thumb over her lower lip. “Tell me.”
“Like you were a beast bringing your virgin sacrifice to your lair.”
He bopped the tip of her nose even though his jaw tightened. Still sore about that secret of hers, then.
“You have quite the imagination,habibi.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” she said, desperate to tease him out of the dark mood.
He straightened and watched her. A sliver of moonlight illuminated his own features for her.Just for her.All sharp slashes and hard contours and even with that scar ruining his lovely mouth...he’d always struck her as the epitome of sex appeal.
But she tended to forget that he’d achieved it by living a whole other life before she’d even grown to adulthood. He was always going to be out of her reach, if she thought like that. If she sought to put him on that pedestal.
But he wasn’t, by his own claim. He wasn’t a statue, either, however much he claimed that. And with the open sides of his shirt flapping about, his hair ruffled and made unkempt by her fingers, his chest bearing the slight scratches from her nails, he wasso utterly hersthen that her breath stuck in her throat. Possibilities fluttered through her heart, bolstered by the soreness of her muscles and the tender ache between her legs.
“No, I don’t know the half of it. Or you.”
And with that pointed remark, he was walking away. When every inch of her wanted to run after him like a half-naked, lovesick wraith, ready to prostrate herself to keep her with him for the rest of the night, Yana rolled away to face the other side of the bed instead, a strange kind of lethargy stealing over her.
His anger was a familiar companion she’d lived with before. Could live with again. But she did an emotional check on herself like Mira had taught her and Nush to do.
All through that long walk across his vast castle—no, even before that, when he’d roared his climax in her ears and she’d hidden away that sound in some deep part of her psyche, to be taken out in private and examined again and again—she’d been trying to muster up some kind of regret.
