hold back his release.
“Suck it.” He couldn’t hold back the explicit words now, the need to show her, the only way he knew how, the exquisite pleasure tearing through him. “Fuck yes, baby. Suck it deep. Hell, suck it until I come, Marty. Give me that sweet, hot mouth.” His voice was more strained, rougher, darker.
He could feel the impending release building in his balls. Like a tight knot of energy it began there, exploded, raced up his spine, then shot back to detonate in his dick.
His hips jerked, thrust forward, and the brilliant, white-hot sensation of tortured pleasure consumed him as he began to fill her mouth with his release.
She took it. She took him. Each hard spurt of liquid lust that shot into her mouth, she consumed, moaned, and took more.
It felt as though it would last forever. An agony, a pleasure he didn’t want to end but swore he couldn’t endure.
As the last tremor of pulsing pleasure raced through his cock, he pulled back from the sweet, sucking depths of her mouth.
He was still hard. Still hungry.
God help him, would he ever get enough of her?
Lifting her from her feet, there was no time for the gentle consideration he normally gave so easily. He was dying for her. A man driven insane for the pulsing pleasure that existed within this woman.
Pushing her against the couch, he gripped her hips, bent his knees and positioned himself before driving inside the liquid fire of her pussy.
He buried halfway on the first thrust, paused to feel the lightning-swift response that traveled through her body, then, with a heavy groan, buried himself in to the hilt.
It was rapture. It was the most pleasure he had ever known in his life. Fist tight, velvet soft, rippling around the torturously sensitive shaft of his dick, her heated pussy began to suck, to milk at the thick flesh stretching it.
Sweat poured down his face and dampened his chest as he fought against the heat consuming his body, the pleasure tearing through him.
Never had he known anything this erotic, this sensually perfect. Though he knew he must have, he couldn’t remember a single time that another woman had created such a violent hunger inside him.
“Beautiful.” He groaned as his hands lifted and stroked her from her trembling shoulders to her hips. “Sweet baby.”
He began to move slowly, her desperate moans and heated cries spurring him on until he was shafting inside her with desperate lunges, rapture consuming them both as they fought for release.
Khalid swore he would die inside her grip, that when he came again, it would take his soul.
Gripping her hips, he watched as his cock thrust into the tight depths of her hot cunt. Heat swirled around him, through him. God help him, what was she doing to him? She was stealing parts of himself that he hadn’t known existed. That he had been certain he lacked.
Emotions poured through him. Agonizing rapture raced through his dick and tore through his body. Electricity sizzled across his flesh, and when he felt her pussy lock around him, clenching, stroking his cock as she began to shake with the orgasm he could feel exploding through her, he gave in to the explosions detonating in his balls.
Light and sound clashed inside his head. He swore his heart was thundering from his chest, pouring from his ears as some part inside him that he hadn’t known, that he had locked down, surged open.
Like Pandora’s box, it rushed through him, destroyed him, remade him. Right there, buried in the sweetest grip he had ever known, Khalid felt the loss of himself as his release pumped inside her.
He gave her more than his seed. He gave her more than his pleasure.
He gave her his soul.
Marty stared up at Khalid long minutes later, after he carried her to his bed. With a warm, damp cloth he washed the perspiration and the slick excess of sex from her body.
He cleaned her gently between her thighs, the soft cloth rasping against tender flesh as he wiped her juices and his release from her sex and thighs.
He was careful, his dark face heavy with latent sensuality as his long, midnight black hair fell around his face in straight, damp strands.
He was the most handsome man she knew. Not so much handsome in the traditional sense, but utterly gorgeous in a rugged male way that he stole her breath.
As he finished drying her, she stretched languidly, her gaze remaining on his face as he laid the cloth and towel aside before turning back to allow his eyes to rove over her body.
“Where did you go today?” he asked again.
Marty almost smiled. She didn’t dare tell him where she had been, but she wouldn’t lie to him, either.
“I had things to do, Khalid.” She shrugged before forcing herself from the bed. She tried to change the subject. “I guess I have to venture downstairs again to find my clothes?”
Also getting up, he buttoned his jeans before going to a tall wardrobe and pulling a robe from inside it.
Holding the thin silk robe in both hands, he moved to her and indicated that she should allow him to help her into it.
As she pushed her arms through the long sleeves, she turned and allowed him to tie it gently.
“I’ll get your clothing later, or Abdul will bring them up.” He eyed her skeptically. “You’re avoiding my questions, Marty. Which means you were doing something you feel you can’t tell me. As you’re on vacation, I can only assume it isn’t job-related.”
“So therefore you have a right to know what it is?” she said, grudgingly. “It doesn’t work that way, Khalid. Just because we’re sleeping together doesn’t mean you own me.”
Following Shayne Connor wasn’t dangerous, unless Khalid found out. She knew Shayne was searching for information on Ayid and Aman, and it was information she was fairly certain they weren’t going to share with her.
She had no intention of telling Khalid about what she was doing, simply because she knew he would warn Shayne, tipping him off to the fact that she was indeed shadowing him whenever possible.
“It means I have a right to know when you’re endangering yourself.” No one had said he wasn’t amazingly intelligent. “The very fact that you refuse to discuss your whereabouts with me tells me I would likely not approve.”
“And your approval should affect what I’m doing? Since when?” She bristled at his sheer arrogance, not to mention the dominance he thought he had a right to.
“Since you decided seducing me was a good idea.” He watched her, his expression stony now.
“One has nothing to do with the other,” she stated, keeping her voice calm as she spoke against his stubbornness. “I’m sleeping with you; I’m not married to you.”
“Sleeping with me comes with a certain commitment. That commitment has an underlying responsibility, Marty. Don’t pretend you’re unaware of the rules of a relationship.”
“We’re in a relationship?” She crossed her arms over her breasts and cocked her hip as irritation surged through her. “We’ve barely been together a week, Khalid. That doesn’t exactly make it a relationship in my book. And that’s besides the fact that you wait until I’m asleep then leave our bed until nearly daylight. You don’t tell me what you’re doing. Why should I tell you what I’m doing?”
Khalid would only get away with what she allowed him to get away with, she reminded herself. As far as she was concerned, there was no relationship until he acted more like a lover and less like a man scratching an itch and hiding secrets from her as he did so.
“I have work to do.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
It amazed her how riled he was. Khalid never got worked up over anything. Even his lovers swore he was the most patient, lovable man they had ever met. He was considered the ultimate third. Intimacy during sex was his middle name, and petting and cuddling were his trademark.
