The Sheik's Kidnapped Bride(Desert Rogues, Book 1)(16) by Susan Mallery
“Be mine,” he whispered, moving closer. “Be mine, Dora. Let me love you.”
She was sure there was a perfectly witty response to all that he was saying, but she found herself at a loss for words. She could only wait until he drew his arms around her and pulled her down onto the mattress. Whatever protest she might have wanted to utter was lost at the first touch of his mouth on hers.
She’d been kissed before…at least a couple of times in high school, once at a frat party in her first year of college, and of course by Gerald. Gerald’s kiss had been practiced, almost clinical. She’d never been kissed by a wild, sensual man, and certainly not one as seductive as Khalil.
She expected an assault, perhaps with him pushing her, invading her, taking her, but it was nothing like that. His mouth was soft, yet firm, yielding against her own, but leaving her in no doubt of his mastery of the task. He learned the contours of her lips slowly, thoroughly. Every point of contact was fire and heat. He lay next to her, on top of the sheet and blanket, but she could feel the weight of him, and it was delicious.
One of his hands cupped her face as if he feared she might try to escape. Had she the strength or the will to speak, she would have told him that was not possible. She was trapped beneath him—more because she had nowhere else in her life she would rather be than because of his superior strength. She didn’t fear Khalil; she knew in her heart he would never hurt her.
“Dora,” he murmured against her mouth. “I want you. I want you, my sweet desert rose. You are so soft, so warm, so my match.”
His words were as heady as wine. She’d read about people getting drunk on words, but until this moment she hadn’t believed it possible. He made her writhe with undefined desire. She wanted without knowing what exactly would fulfill her. She needed desperately, but she could not describe the outcome that would most please her.
“Touch me,” he commanded, then stroked her bottom lip with his tongue.
She didn’t know which shocked her more—his request or the wet pressure on her lip. Instinctively she parted for him. At the same moment, she brought her free arm around and rested her hand on his shoulder. While his tongue slipped into her mouth, her fingers and palm absorbed the hot strength of him. He was all hard muscle and masculine scent. He was also wet and fiery and tempting as he stroked inside of her mouth. She found herself gasping in pleasure, in shock, in desperation that he never ever stop what he was doing.
He stroked his tongue against hers. The sensation and texture of him sent sparks dancing through her blood. He angled his head slightly and deepened the kiss. Fire boiled low in her belly. She couldn’t breathe, yet it didn’t matter. She was going to die this very moment, and she welcomed the experience. To have been held and kissed by this man was more than she’d ever expected from her small life.
He explored her mouth, learning details and discovering favorite places. He made her gasp and sigh and press up against him. She clung to his shoulder, urging him closer. She rubbed her tongue against his, circled him, then joined him in an erotic dance that left her legs trembling.
Between her thighs a rhythmic pulsing began. She felt blood pooling and a waiting dampness that signaled her readiness. Part of her was ashamed of her body’s reaction to this man, but most of her reveled in her awakening. She hadn’t known that such pleasures existed.
Khalil broke the kiss by moving his mouth to her neck. There he nibbled and licked the sensitive skin beneath her ear, then moved lower, to her collarbone. He rolled to the edge of the bed and pulled away the covers, tossing them to the foot of the mattress.
Instinctively Dora reached for the hem of her nightgown. It had crawled up until it was well above midthigh. But before she could push the fabric down, she felt a single male finger stroking her bare leg. Up and down, up and down, that lone point of contact moved from the inside of her knee to the top of her left thigh. She shivered. She bit her lower lip. She fought against the need to cry out his name.
The finger lifted, and the absence of his touch caused physical pain. Then he touched her again. One, brief, perfect caress on her erect nipple. As he stroked the tight bud, he stared deeply into her eyes. She found herself lost in his gaze, drowning in a pool so wet and welcoming that she could not imagine ever wanting to be free.
“Say my name,” he commanded, then touched her nipple again.
Electricity, pleasure, desire, heat seared through her. “Khalil!” she gasped.
He smiled. “What a passionate creature you are, my efficient Dora. I’m a most fortunate man.”
He pulled her up into a sitting position. Before she could gather her wits about her, he’d pulled off her nightgown, and her br**sts were bare to his gaze.
She wanted to protest, or at the very least cover herself, but before she could think of the right words needed, he’d lowered her to her back and pressed his lips to her right breast. His hand closed over her other breast. Suddenly being topless didn’t seem like such a bad thing.
She closed her eyes and absorbed the wonder of his ministrations. His tongue and lips were soft and wet against her sensitized skin. His fingers matched their movements. He circled her, brushed over her, then suckled her. All the while her body turned to liquid.
Was this what happened between a man and a woman? she thought incoherently. Was this the wonder of which she’d read? So many things became clear to her. That lovers would move mountains to be together. That they would risk death. She would have done anything to prolong the magic.
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