Page 24 of Hair, She Bears
“You are an exact replica of your father, cruel and compassionless.” Underneath her hand, his heart thudded a rapid rhythm. She placed her other hand on top of his. “But you also offered to rescue a damsel in distress.”
“My motives aren’t pure.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?”
“Yes.”
“No one is forcing you.” Pulling her hand free, she drew back against the post.
“Damn it, Zenna!” He slammed his hand on the bed. She jumped. “I defied my father, stole a necklace, and climbed a tower. The question is not if I’m attracted to you.”
“Then—”
He crushed his mouth to hers. Dragging her toward him, he lifted her from the bed and pulled her onto his lap, her knees straddling his legs. His tongue plunged past her lips, accompanied by a growl which rumbled deep in his throat. Her head swam, dizzy from his sensuous assault. Clinging to his shoulders, her fingers dug into the hard muscle.
Sliding up her arms, his fingers drew a blazing path of desire, every inch of skin burning beneath his touch. His hands closed around the tank top straps and tugged the material down, revealing her breasts. She froze, heat crawling through her face. Malik pulled back, his eyes searched hers.
“I’ve never been undressed by anyone.” She lowered her gaze as she murmured the admission. He hooked his fingers under her chin, lifting her face.
“It is my pleasure to volunteer.”
She offered him a small smile, the best she could manage through the apprehension plaguing her mind. A decision, her decision—one Mother had no control over—yet an overwhelming sense of foreboding washed through her as if more rested upon this choice than she understood.
“You are overthinking this.” Malik set her beside him, then pulled off his boots, dropping them on the floor, one heavy thud at a time. Rising, he spun around, facing her, and indicated his pants. “Take them off.”
She nodded, her lower lip trapped between her teeth, and moved to the edge of the mattress. Her hands reached out, closed around his belt, and trembling fingers yanked the belt free of its buckle. Glancing up at him, he remained motionless, a stoic expression on his face. After a deep breath, she unbuttoned his pants, and they fell from his hips and pooled around his feet, revealing his hard length, which strained against black boxer-briefs.
Pushing off the bed, she stood, their bodies almost touching, and placed one trembling hand on his stomach, just above the band of his underwear. Malik’s eyes glowed.
She gasped when he dragged the back of his knuckle across the exposed swell of her breast. He rolled her shirt down her torso, tugged it over her hips, and it fell to the floor. Even with the additional warmth of the fire, a shiver rolled down her back. She crossed her arms in front of her body, covering as much of herself as possible.
“You are beautiful.” Malik grabbed her wrists and peeled her hands away from her skin, walking her backward until her legs bumped into the mattress. “Last chance to change your mind.”
She shook her head, unable to trust her voice. Guiding her down onto the bed, he scooted to the side, so only half his body covered hers, and his erection dug into her thigh. One fingertip drew a lazy circle across her breast, circling her nipple. She wiggled, the sensation sending bolts of lightning ricocheting through her veins. His mouth claimed hers, his tongue plunged past her lips and drew a moan from her.
Sliding down her body, his hand reached the apex of her thighs, then dipped between her legs. She cried out, arching her back as one digit plunged into her core. Malik’s finger retracted, caressing her nub gently, then dove back into her center again, his finger matching the rhythm of his tongue.
She panted under his ministrations, her stomach winding tighter, and her fingernails raked along the bed. Malik’s finger increased its tempo—stroke, thrust, repeat—until she could do nothing but writhe on the bed, her hips lifting to meet his hand with desperate urgency.
Her release came suddenly, crashing over her in waves of unyielding tremors, her passion-filled voice echoing in the chamber. When the tingling sensations subsided, she drew in a shaky breath, and her gaze slid to Malik.
“I’m going to do the same thing to you again,” he said, shedding his boxer-briefs. “Except this time, I’m not going to use my hand.”
She nodded, a small tendril of fear growing in her mind.
Malik pushed her legs apart and rolled on top of her, settling between her thighs. His fingers skimmed down her torso, tickled her stomach, then slipped between them and brushed over her center. Angling his body, he thrust forward, burying himself in one quick stroke, and she cried out. He paused, melded with her, his eyes on her face.
“I’m sorry.” Concern rumbled through his voice. “I’ve been told it can hurt the first time.”
She chewed her lip and shifted beneath him. The sharp pain had faded, and she was left with a peculiar feeling of fullness.
“Does it hurt the second time too?”
“No.” He chuckled and brushed a kiss over the tip of her nose. “Nor any time after that.”
“Are you certain?”
“Fairly, but you can let me know.”
