Page 12 of At the Sheikh's Command
She narrowed her eyes—she was no submissive woman, and was letting him know with her narrowed gaze and secret smile that this was something she wanted to do, something which she knew would give her what she wanted, too, otherwise she wouldn’t be doing it. She sat on the edge of the bed and then, watching him, watching her, she opened her legs.
His cock throbbed at the sight of her slick pussy, swollen and so ready for him. Then, with one quick movement, she raised her legs and pushed her heels close to her bottom and lay back, both hands behind her head, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, offering him exactly what they both wanted. And there was no way he wasn’t going to take it.
He pulled off his robes until he stood naked before her, his cock hard and ready. With no more words, or kisses, or touches, he lifted her hips and slid inside of her with one forceful thrust.
She dropped her head back, closed her eyes and gasped, one long inhalation of air which told him all he needed to know. Hot bliss filled his veins as he remained deep inside of her. Nothing had come close to this since she’d disappeared from his life so abruptly.
“Look at me,” he commanded. And she snapped open her eyes and met his gaze. Immediately he withdrew and, holding her where he wanted her, thrust back into her again.
He played her like he’d imagined so many times—holding back just when she was about to come, punishing her for leaving him.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, needing to hear the words from her. “Tell me.” Her breath was coming in gasps. He took her hand, which had slid down to her sex as if to hasten her pleasure, and clasped them both and held them on either side. They were chest to chest, his mouth above hers. He had no more kisses in him, he only wanted her submission. “Tell me,” he repeated for a third time.
“You,” she breathed. He wondered if it was a word, or a sigh, but it was the look in her eyes of total surrender to his will which tipped the balance. He nodded and then drove into her with a relentless rhythm until she cried out his name and came in an explosive, shimmering climax, which massaged every last drop of his seed from him. It was as if she wanted the essence of him, wanted what he could give her—his baby. For the first time, he wondered whether she’d taken precautions. He hoped not. Because he wanted her to be his woman, and to carry his child. He wanted her in the most primitive way possible. But she still felt separate, elusive. He had to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling.
He pulled out of her and stood over her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she pulled up her knee and rolled onto her side, one arm over her forehead, hiding her eyes, as if unwilling to meet his gaze.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
Her head moved lightly against the bed cover. “I can’t.” Her voice sounded strained, as if she were having difficulty containing something.
“Why not?” He heard the roughness in his voice, but could do nothing to prevent it. It felt as if the years of yearning had disappeared and nothing was as important as this moment.
She pulled away her arm and turned her face to his and he could see what it was she was hiding. Tears streaked down her face and suddenly his need to control—to own, to punish—evaporated. There was nothing more important than this woman before him, who looked destroyed. Had he done that? He knew he’d never forgive himself if he had.
“Nora,” he breathed. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
She swallowed, but a half-sob emerged, anyway. She shook her head, and her tears soaked into her hair. He pushed her hair aside and tenderly caressed her cheek.
“Nora, please tell me what’s wrong. What is it? Is it something I’ve done? If so, I’m sorry. I let my needs take over.”
“It’s not…” She gulped.
“Please, tell me, what’s wrong?”
She tried to sit up. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. But the action seemed only to increase her distress, and the crying began again. He waited until the sobs subsided before pulling away. Then he gently brushed away the traces of her tears with his fingers and kissed her lips, which still trembled slightly. This time the kiss was no command, but an urging caress. Slowly they lay down, face to face, his arms around her, wanting to give her whatever comfort he could. But he couldn’t give her any more than physical reassurance unless he knew why she was crying.
“Please, Nora, tell me.”
“I…” She swallowed. “I’d forgotten.”
He pushed aside her hair, so he could see the expression in her eyes. He needed to use all his senses to figure out what the hell was going on.
“Forgotten what?”
She gave a glimmer of a smile. “What it was like to make love to you. What it’s like”—she moved her hand down to her sex—“to have you here, inside of me. I’d forgotten how right it felt. How much I needed it.”
He grunted, satisfied. It was good she felt that way. He placed his hand over hers and exerted pressure on her clitoris, watching her face at the same time. She gasped and her face contorted with pleasure as he increased the pressure. He lifted his hand from hers and she stopped, eyes opening.
“Don’t stop,” he instructed.
With her eyes open, she played with herself, arousing herself once more, and smiling as she registered his own arousal. She opened her legs a little wider, and he watched as she took their combined juices which lined her sex and played with it, rubbing it into her skin, drawing it up to her clitoris.
He couldn’t take it any longer and, with one swift movement, he turned her in his arms and slid inside of her. This time there were no delays, nothing but the urgings of each other’s body, a sensitivity to each other which he’d known with no other lover. He could tell it was the same for her. Gone was the veneer of business-like arrogance, replaced by an almost innocent, beguiling openness which he knew he could not bring himself to damage, no matter his first thought about revenge. She was too precious, too rare, for him to destroy.
After they both climaxed a second time, he held her in the same position—her back to his chest—cradling her, not wanting the moment to end. He brushed aside her hair from her neck and placed a kiss there, above her pulse, tenderly touching it, thinking he could not live without that beating heart beside him. Theirs was no ordinary connection. And he’d do whatever he had to do to make sure the connection was never again broken.
As he watched her slowly relax into sleep, her eyes fluttering now and then, he felt more at peace than he’d felt since he’d last seen her. Those eight years of unhappiness seeped out of him, like poisoned blood, leaving him with a sense of rightness which he couldn’t deny. He couldn’t do without her. However he had to do it, he was determined to fight for a future which had her in it. It was that simple.
