"Khalid." She was demanding. She needed it. She knew there was more than the gentle caresses he was giving her. She knew there was more he wanted to give her. Much more that she was willing to take.
"Then take it, sweet," he urged her, as he filled her pu**y again, every thick, hard inch of his c**k burying inside her. "Take what I have to give you."
He pulled back, and this time two fingers slipped into her rear and sent her senses reeling.
Pleasure pain. The most incredible burning, agonizing pleasure tore through her as his fingers slid inside her ass. Delicate, ultrasensitive tissue screamed out in ecstasy and in agony. Fiery pleasure enveloped her, brutal ecstasy threatened on the edges of her senses.
She couldn't help but clench on the invasions as she cried out at the sensations, the alternate strokes f**king inside her with wicked intensity, tearing away her control and her will to resist.
Pressing back, she took what he gave and demanded what he held back. Her nails clawed at the blankets as perspiration coated her flesh, and waves of lust and hunger surged through her with tidal waves of sensation.
"Harder." Her cry was a mix of desperate begging and demanding passion. "Oh God, Khalid. Fuck me harder. Harder."
She needed more. She needed to ride this incredible wave into the pure bliss she could sense just out of reach. The pinnacle of pleasure awaited her, and she wanted to fly into it.
Tiny shocks of sensation began to ignite inside her with every alternate thrust inside her pu**y, her rear. She could feel the explosion coming, building. It was there. It was a golden ball of pure white-hot heat, and it sucked her in with such a burst of sensation that she feared she may not survive it.
Tension gripped her, tightened her. Her muscles gripped his cock, sucked at his fingers, and the white-hot conflagration of sensation building inside her erupted.
She felt Khalid, thrusting powerfully, his release powering inside her, heating her, filling her. His groan was a distant sound, his heavy body coming over her another pleasure mixing with the torrent of sensation already tearing her apart.
Was she screaming or just trying to scream?
She was shuddering beneath him, crying, locked inside the heavy pulses of agonizing sensation still tearing through her. She was his. In that moment, in that second, she sensed it like an animal senses its mate.
She belonged to him totally.
Chapter 9
Khalid stared out the window of his library, three days later, a frown marring his brow. He watched the breeze drift through the trees surrounding the gardens. He looked tired, he thought, catching sight of his reflection in the window. Nothing like the charming seducer he was supposed to be. Or the carefree lover he tried to be with Marty. Though, he admitted, at the best of times, he was anything but carefree.
Working for Joseph Mathews and Zachary Jennings had done this to him, he thought, with a twinge of amusement. He thought perhaps he had earlier even glimpsed a gray hair or two in the thick black strands of his hair.
Of course, knowing his brothers would move against him didn't help things. A man could grow old before his time looking over his shoulder as often as Khalid was forced to. Not to mention the strain it had placed on him of all those years fighting his overwhelming desire for a woman who he knew would be placed in danger the moment she came to his bed.
Marty was in the thick of it now, and protecting her was his main priority. His brothers had sworn they would destroy any woman who held his heart, and he feared they were now making good on thier promise.
Ayid and Aman should have been dead after the explosion that had been set off in the terrorist headquarters in Riyadh so many years ago, and the initial report had stated no survivors. Abram and Khalid had relaxed their guard for no more than hours. Just a few short hours, but long enough for Abram's father, Azir, to demand that Abram rush to Riyadh to find out what was going on. Just long enough for the brothers to contact their followers in the region and have Khalid kidnapped and held.
He rubbed his hand over his face and moved away from the window. Just a few hours. It had been enough to allow the brothers to make their way back to the palace and torture and kill the woman Khalid and Abram secretly had been sharing. The woman Abram had claimed as his own, the wife he had cherished.
Lessa had paid with an agonizing death for Khalid's part in the destruction of that terrorist cell. Simply because Ayid had somehow learned of the part Khalid had played in the attack against the terrorist cell's headquarters in Riyadh.
After Khalid had left Saudi Arabia, Abram had returned to being the son Azir had demanded. It was the only way to keep Khalid safe, he had claimed. Though Khalid knew Abram was simply biding his time, waiting until he could destroy his younger brothers without the threat of Khalid paying in some way for his crimes.
It hadn't worked, though. Khalid had never been safe, and now Marty was in danger as well.
She had worked her way into his desires, then into his heart. She was in danger because of him. He could feel it. The attempted drive-by shooting had been a clear message. Ayid and Aman were tired of waiting for their vengeance. For whatever reason, they were moving now.
And he couldn't still the fear that no matter her training and her abilities, he would still lose her.
His Marty was determined to always be the risk taker. At least, in some areas. Unfortunately, having her risk her life didn't sit well with his possessive male tendencies.
The sound of the door opening behind him caused him to stop his musings, and he turned from the window. He watched as Joe and Zach entered the room, glancing at him with concerned expressions.
"Khalid, you're looking tired." Joseph wasn't one to mince words when the situation warranted it.
"I have no idea what would cause such a thing," he answered, with subtle sarcasm. "Perhaps it's the late nights I'm keeping."