Beholden to the Throne - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,50
was lavish in its suggestion and he pulled her into him, to let her feel his want. His hands moved over her body. This was a kiss that could lead only to one thing. Except he stopped.
He looked down to her mouth, which was wet and wanting. He did not believe in negotiation—not when he knew that he was right. He would get his way. ‘You will return to Alzan and we will be married.’
‘You don’t just tell me!’ Amy said. ‘And that’s hardly a proposal. You’re supposed to get down on one knee.’
‘Not where I come from,’ Emir said.
He took her hand and held it over his erection. She kept her palm flat, but that did not deter him. He moved her hand up and down, till her fingers ached from not holding him, till all she wanted was to slide down his zipper and free him.
Free them.
‘You can say yes,’ Emir said, ‘or you can kiss it goodbye if you care to.’
She could not help but smile as his usually excellent English wavered.
‘You mean, kiss it all goodbye.’
‘No,’ Emir said. ‘I mean exactly what I said.’ And he pulled her into him. His mouth found her ear. ‘Either way I bring you to your knees.’
And he would, because she could not be without him.
‘Say yes, Amy.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Then you can’t have me.’
He confused her, because he kissed her again.
He kissed her mouth when still she questioned. He kissed her eyes closed when she tried to look at all that lay ahead. He kissed her until she was in the moment—kissed her all the way to her unmade bed. He did not bring her to her knees; instead he lay her down and removed every piece of her clothing.
First he took off her shoes, and when she sat with her arms by her sides he raised them.
‘Emir …’
‘Tell me to stop and I will.’
Her hands stayed in the air as he took off her top.
‘Tell me we should not be together,’ Emir said as he unhooked her bra, ‘and I will go.’
And she felt his eyes on her breasts and she wanted his mouth to be there, but still she stayed silent, so he unzipped her skirt and pushed her back on the bed. When he pulled at the hem she did not lift her hips to help him. He stared down at her and it did not deter him. Instead he undressed himself.
He took off his jacket and placed it over a chair, took ages with each shoe, and as he pulled off his socks Amy found her toes curling.
‘You do not get me till you say yes.’ With a cruel lack of haste he removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He gave her plenty of time to halt things but still she did not and he slid off his trousers and hipsters and stood over her, naked. ‘I can’t hear you, Amy.’
‘Because I haven’t said anything,’ came her response, but this time when he tugged at her skirt she did lift her hips. How could she not say yes to him? How could she not be his wife? She tried to look to the future, when she would surely regret this decision, but yes waited to spill from her mouth.
He took off her panties so she was naked, and still she would not give in.
Emir kneeled between her legs, kissed up one thigh and then back down, and then he turned his attention to the other one till she writhed beneath him, wanting him there at her centre. He didn’t play fair. He played mean. He lifted his head and focussed instead on himself, and she watched, fascinated, desperate. He stroked himself right there at her entrance and she watched, wanted. He would make her comply.
‘I can’t wait for ever,’ he warned.
And he was right. There would never be a better lover. Always her mind would return to him. She heard his breath quicken. She wanted him more than she wanted her sanity and she hated this game he was playing.
‘You can’t seduce me into saying yes.’
‘I can.’
He could.
He actually could.
‘Yes,’ she begged, for she wanted it to be ended.
‘Manners?’ How cruel was his teasing.
‘I’ve forgotten them!’ she screamed, and then screamed again as he drove into her.
Fierce was the passion that filled her. He did not stop for a second to let her think, did not let her draw breath to reconsider. He had her and he would keep her. Each buck inside Amy told her