‘Please—’
As she appealed to him he decided that the time he had allowed for this visit to Skavanga wouldn’t be enough. He ran his fingers lightly over her beautiful breasts before moving on to trace the swell of her belly. Lifting her skirt, he nudged her thighs apart. She made it easy for him, so he repaid her gesture by delicately exploring the heated flesh at the apex of her thighs. When she whimpered with pleasure it was all he could do to hold back. So much for his much-vaunted self-control, he mused, as Britt thrust her hips towards him, trying for more contact. He wanted nothing more than to take her now. Clutching his arms, she tilted herself back against the table, moaning with need. Opening her legs a little more for him, she showed him a very different woman from the one in the starchy photograph he had examined in London, but this was the woman he had suspected Britt was hiding all along.
‘You’re quite clinical about this, aren’t you?’ Britt panted in a rare moment of lucidity as he watched her pleasure.
Duty could do that to a man. He never let himself go. Growing up the second son of the third wife had hardly been to his advantage as a youth. He had been forced to watch the cruelty inflicted on his people by those closer to the throne than he was on a daily basis. So, yes, he was cold. He’d had to be to overthrow tyrants that were also his relatives. There was no room now in his life for anything other than the most basic human appetite.
‘Don’t make me wait,’ Britt was begging him.
She needn’t worry. His preference at this moment was to please her.
This was insane. Emir was cold, detached—and the sexiest thing on two legs. He was frighteningly distant, but she was lost in an erotic haze of his making. She needed more—more pressure, more contact—more of him. The more aloof he was, the more her body cried out to him. The ache he’d set up inside her was unbearable. She had to have more of his skilful touches—
An excited cry escaped her throat when she felt the insistent thrust of his erection against her belly. She rubbed herself shamelessly against it, sobbing with pleasure as each delicious contraction of her nerve endings gave some small indication of what was to come. Emir’s hard, warrior frame was even more powerful than she had imagined, and yet he used his hands so delicately in a way that drove her crazy for him. Lacing her fingers through his thick black hair, she dragged him close. He responded by cupping the back of her head to keep her in place as he dipped down and plundered her mouth. Sweeping the table clear, he lifted her and balanced her on the edge. Moving between her legs, he forced them apart with the width of his body. ‘Wrap your legs around me,’ he commanded, pushing them wider still.
She had never obeyed a man’s instructions in her life, but she rushed to obey these. Resting her hands flat on the table behind her, she arched her spine, thrusting her breasts forward, while Emir reared over her, magnificent and erect.
Like a stallion on the point of servicing a mare?
With far more consideration than that—
Are you sure?
She was sure that any more delay would send her crazy. She was also sure that Emir knew exactly what he was doing.
‘Tell me what you want, Britt,’ he demanded fiercely.
‘You know what I want,’ she said.
‘But you must tell me,’ he said in low, cruel voice.
Her throat dried. The harsher he got, the more arousing she found it. No one had ever pushed her boundaries like this before. And she had thought herself liberal where sex was concerned? She was a novice compared to Emir.
She had also thought herself emotion-free, Britt realised, but knew deep in her heart that something had changed inside her. Even when she plumbed the depths of Emir’s cold black eyes she wanted to be the one to draw a response from him—she wanted to learn more about him, and in every way.
‘Say it,’ he instructed.
Her face blazed red. No one spoke to her like that—no one told her what to do. But her body liked what was happening, and was responding with enthusiasm. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, please.’ And then she told him exactly what she wanted him to do to her without sparing a single lurid detail.
Now he was pleased. Now she got through to him. Now he almost smiled.
‘I think I can manage that,’ he said dryly. ‘My only concern is that we may not have sufficient time to work our way through your rather extensive wish list.’
On this occasion, she thought. ‘Perhaps another time,’ she said, matching him for dispassion. But then she glanced at the door. How could she have forgotten that it was still unlocked? Just as she was thinking she must do something about it, Emir touched her in a way that made it impossible for her to move.
‘Don’t you like the risk?’ he said, reading her easily.
She looked at him, and suddenly she loved the risk.
‘Hold me,’ he said softly. ‘Use me—take what you need.’
She hesitated, another first for her. No one had ever given her this freedom. She moved to do as he said and found it took two hands to enclose him.
‘I’m waiting,’ he said.
With those dangerous eyes watching her, she made a pass. Loving it, she made a second, firmer stroke—
Taking control, Emir caught the tip inside her. She gasped and would have pulled away, but he cupped her buttocks firmly in his strong hands and drew her slowly on to him. ‘What are you afraid of?’ he said, staring deep into her eyes. ‘You know I won’t hurt you.’
She didn’t know him at all, but for some reason she trusted him. ‘I’m just—’
‘Hungry,’ he said. ‘I know.’
A sound of sheer pleasure trembled from her throat. She had played games with boys before, she realised, but Emir was a man, and a man like no other man.
‘Am I enough for you?’ he mocked.
She lifted her chin. ‘What do you think?’
He told her exactly what he thought, and while she was still gasping with shock and lust he kissed her, and before she could recover he thrust inside her deeply to the hilt. For a moment she was incapable of thinking or doing, and even breathing was suspended. This wasn’t pleasure, this was an addiction. She could never get enough of this—or of him. The sensation of being completely inhabited while being played by a master was a very short road to release.
‘No,’ he said sharply, stopping her. ‘I’ll tell you when. Look at me, Britt,’ he said fiercely.
On the promise of pleasure she stared into Emir’s molten gaze. She would obey him. She would pay whatever price it took for this to continue.
He was pleased with her. Britt was more responsive than even he had guessed. She was a strong woman who made him want to pleasure her. He loved the challenge that was Britt Skavanga. He loved her fire. He loved her cries of pleasure and the soft little whimpers she made when he thrust repeatedly into her. What had started as a basic function to clear his head had become an exercise in pleasuring Britt.
‘Now,’ he whispered fiercely.
He held her firmly as she rocked into orgasm with a release so violent he trusted his strength more than the boardroom table and held her close, though he could do nothing about the noise she was making, which would probably travel to the next town, and so he smothered it with a kiss. When he let her go, she gasped and called his name. He held her safe, cushioning her against the hard edge of the table with his hands as he soothed her down. Withdrawing carefully, he steadied Britt on her feet before releasing her. Smoothing the hair back from her flushed, damp brow, he stared into her dazed eyes, waiting until he was sure she had recovered. The one thing he had not expected was to feel an ache of longing in his chest.