The Sheikh's Impetuous Love-Slave by Marguerite Kaye Read Free Book Online

dissolve under the onslaught of those kisses. The dark heat of his mouth, his lips, his tongue, a prelude to a darker, more sensual heat. He coaxed her mouth open farther, deepening the kiss, and she thought she would surely melt. Her body burned, as if she had been naked under the midday sun. Desire crimsoned behind her lids, in her blood, between her legs, stoked by his mouth, his hands, the hard length of him pressed into her stomach. Above them, the stars seemed diminished in comparison.
    Her tunic dropped to the sand. Khalid dropped his mouth to her breasts, sucking on her nipples through the fine silk of her skimpy top, his hands on the bare flesh of her waist. His mouth drew such exquisite pleasure that she gasped. She too needed to touch. His back, the knotted line of his spine, the hard curve of his buttocks, his arms, his shoulders, the fascinating concave dip of his stomach.
    He loosed her top and freed her breasts. She fumbled with the fastenings of his tunic, desperate now to feel skin on skin. Releasing her briefly, Khalid yanked it over his head to stand before her naked. Juliette’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. She had never seen a naked man in the flesh, but she could not imagine that any could be more perfect than Khalid. His manhood stood up proudly, thick and hard. Blushing but unable to look away, she stared at its curved length, trying to imagine how it would feel inside her.
    He took her hand and placed it there, encouraging her to hold him, to cup him, to caress him. Satin skin, pulsing slightly under her fingers. The pulsing was reflected inside her as she touched him. He untied the laces which held her sarwal pants in place. They slithered to the sand. He cupped her, too, and she felt the pulse quicken, deepen, into a throb as heavy and insistent as her heartbeat.
    â€˜You are aflame for me,’ Khalid said, awed by the heat and damp, the vanilla scent of her sex. ‘Feel how my senses are aflame for you, too.’
    She did, stroking him tentatively, moaning as he stroked her in return, as he slipped a finger into the damp of her curls, touching her intimately, so that the blood seemed to surge from everywhere else to that one spot. He stroked her again, and it was like the sponge only more shockingly intimate. His flesh. His fingers on her, inside her. Her hand on his engorged manhood, relishing the way it throbbed to her touch.
    He touched and she echoed him. They were on their knees in the sand now, touching, kissing, pressing closer and closer. Hands and lips feverish, breath shallow and harsh, murmuring inarticulately, his name, her name, please, please, oh please.
    She could not tell if it was Khalid or she who spoke. He slipped his fingers farther inside her, into the space which was surely made for him, and she arched with delight, flinging her head back with a wild cry, thrusting towards him, yearning for that ultimate coupling. ‘Please,’ she cried, and this time it was her, her voice husky with need, her hands clutching at his buttocks in an instinctive urging. ‘Please.’
    Khalid hesitated, and in that fraction of hesitation, honour once more won the day. The primal urge to take her, to claim her for his own, was almost overwhelming, but instead he lay her down on the sand. It was his mouth, his tongue, his lips he buried in the hot pink of her sex, and not his aching shaft. She tasted so sweet. The little panting cries she was making, the way she was digging her heels into the sand, arching her back to thrust herself towards him, the dark areolas of her nipples contrasting against the creamy white of her skin in the moonlight, the stain of passion striping across her face—it was almost too much.
    He kissed her intimately, his tongue circling over the hard nub of her, forcing himself to lick into her slowly, languorously, though she clutched at his back and his shoulders and his hair and urged him to hurry, hurry, please .
    Her whole