Heat pooled between her thighs, preparing her further.
It had been too long since he had taken her, something whispered inside her mind. Too long since she had known his possession.
Her breath caught as his hands moved to her br**sts, cupping them, his thumbs raking over her ni**les, creating an exciting friction that sent flames racing across her nerve endings.
She felt on fire from the need rushing through her body.
Desperate fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, only to grip the material instead and jerk it apart as his lips again lowered to hers.
As though that action had released a flood of lust inside Khalid, his kiss became rougher, more territorial. A wildfire of sensation rushed through her veins as she fought to hold on to just enough control.
But there was no holding on. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her tongue dueled with his, as they both fought for dominance of the kiss.
Khalid's clothes were disposed of quickly. His shirt was tossed to the floor, the rest landing wherever they dropped. Marty didn't know; she didn't care.
All that mattered was the feel of his body against hers--the light rasp of the hairs on his chest against her sensitized ni**les, the feel of his lips on hers, his hands stroking over her body, cupping her br**sts, plucking at her ni**les.
The silken comforter of the bed met her back before she realized he'd moved her. It stroked against her flesh, another caress to burn through her senses as she fought to touch him.
His lips moved to her neck, nipping kisses drawing her muscles tight as her neck arched and whimpering moans left her lips.
Nothing mattered now but touch--sensual, seductive, heated. Taste. The taste of his flesh as she lifted her head, her lips moving to his shoulders, her tongue stroking, sampling the salty male taste of him.
There was more of him that she wanted to taste, more of him that she needed to taste.
His lips moved down her neck, over her shoulder, and to her br**sts. His hands cupped the swollen mounds, his thumbs stroking over the ni**les a second before his lips covered one tight peak.
Marty froze. The pleasure was a rush of adrenaline and weakening sensuality. It was a cacophony of such incredible sensations that she became lost in the waves of them.
His teeth raked against the tip; his tongue stroked it. His lips closed on the areola, sucking it with deep, measured pulls of his mouth.
"Khalid." She was surprised at the sound of her own voice. There was a plea in it, a desperation she couldn't hide.
Her pu**y was on fire from the need. Her cl*t was so swollen, aching with such intensity, that she swore she could feel the swirl of air around it.
Anticipation tore through her. His hand stroked her, from her breast to her hip to her thigh. A whimpering moan left her lips at the building need for his touch where she had grown so wet.
His lips, teeth, and tongue worked at her breast as his fingers moved to her inner thigh. A cry tore from her lips, her eyes opening wide as she struggled to find a sense of balance in a world suddenly tilting on its axis.
He didn't tease. He parted the curl-shrouded folds of her pu**y, and a second later two fingers began pressing inside her, stretching her, burning her.
"Khalid!" She cried his name as her h*ps arched, her thighs spreading farther apart as the initial penetration sent a shock through hidden nerve endings, exposing them, sensitizing them further.
Her h*ps writhed against the impalement. Thrusting, she fought for more, a deeper, harder caress that he gave instantly.
His fingers worked inside her, thrusting slow, then hard; easy, then fiercely. It was never the sensation she expected, never the caress she thought would come. His fingers scissored inside her, stretching her further as a ragged cry tore from her lips.
"God yes, Marty." His groan wrapped around her, the desperation in it tearing through her.
He wanted her. He was hungry for her. In her life she had never known such desire from a man until Khalid.
The knowledge of that hunger, the pleasure tearing through her, the feel of his sweat-dampened body, her own perspiration sliding between them, combined in such a powerful force that her orgasm tore through her without warning.
There was no initial tightening of her body. There was no rush of impending force. It was just there. A sudden, explosive wonder filled with light and sound as his fingers continued to work inside her, to stroke her higher, throwing her into a blazing conflagration that seemed never ending.
"Sweet Marty, burn for me." His voice was an echo of the pleasure in her head. A sensual, mental caress that sent aftershocks of release rippling through her.
In that moment, as the pleasure eased and another hunger built, a wisp of a thought, a desire shocked her senses. It could have been hotter. There was a component missing, something she knew she could have, something she was terrified to reach out for.