Guilty Pleasure (14 page)

“Khalid!” She cried out his name as he circled her clit, never giving her the touch she needed as his lips began to move down her body.

“I’m going to eat you like candy, baby.”

Sliding between her thighs, he pushed her legs wide, his hands pressing beneath her rear to cup it and lift her to him.

The first touch of his lips made her entire body tense, and a ragged moan echoed from her chest. They circled her clit, drew it inside, and then proceeded to drive her insane as he began to suckle at the little bud.

His tongue stroked over it, around it. Each touch was never firm enough, never fast enough to send her racing over the edge of release that she could feel just out of reach.

His fingers clenched her rear, parting the twin globes and dipping into the narrow crevice there. Drawing the juices that spilled from her pussy back to the snug opening, he began to massage it firmly.

There was too much pleasure. Too many sensations. Marty couldn’t hold her careening senses in place as he stroked her in places where her own fingers had never ventured.

The tiny prick of pleasure pain at her ass had her pressing closer to the caress. The suction of his mouth at her clit destroyed her, the waves of pleasure tearing through her as she writhed beneath the destruction his mouth and tongue created.

Her senses were whirling with the extremeness of sensations. The feel of his calloused palms on the sensitive flesh of her rear had her twisting in his grip, the rasp of them stroking over nerve endings she hadn’t known could be so sensitive.

It was his finger stroking, massaging, pressing against the tender opening of her rear as his lips and tongue sucked and licked at the too sensitive folds of her pussy that drove her to the edge of sanity.

She needed… she wasn’t certain what she needed. She had never felt this. She had never known such pleasure. It built and built. It burned and ached.

“Khalid.” She arched into his grip as his tongue circled her clit with rapid, heated strokes. It flickered over the swollen bud before he sucked it inside once again. At the same time, his finger slipped into the tight entrance of her rear. The alternating, blistering sensations were too much to process, too much to bear.

As his finger stretched her anally and his tongue stroked over her clit rapidly, something exploded, detonated. In a blaze of sensation, a white-hot heat she couldn’t resist, pleasure ruptured inside her and sent her flying, as a strangled scream tore from her throat.

She was dying. She couldn’t live through it. She couldn’t survive it. Ecstasy was a brilliant conflagration whipping through her mind and body.

Marty fought to catch her breath, to still the rapid beating of her heart. Her body shook in the grip of a rapture she couldn’t explain, and one she couldn’t escape.

“Sweet baby.” His voice stroked over her as his hands smoothed along her sides, his lips moving up her stomach to her breasts.

When they reached her lips, the need was burning inside her again.

Opening her eyes, Marty stared up at him, her breath catching at the extreme sensual hunger that tightened his face. That look was as arousing as any touch he had given her so far. The sheer desperate lust, the tightening of his features, the heaviness about his lips, the drowsiness in his eyes, the rivulet of sweat that eased along his dark face. The combination was like a hit of aphrodisiac that surged through her system.

“Khalid.” She breathed his name as his thighs slid between hers, the wide crest of his erection pressing against her pussy.

“Damn. I’ve never done this before.” His breath was heavy, rough, as she stared up at him in surprised amusement.

“You could have fooled me.” She panted, her hands gripping his hard shoulders as he pressed closer, his hips shifting, his cock stretching the untried entrance of her sex.

He almost smiled. “I’ve never taken a virgin,” he growled, as he gripped her hip and pressed closer.

Marty bit her lip as the blooming heat between her thighs sent pinpricks of pleasure pain racing through her nervous system.

“You still haven’t,” she pointed out, as she fought not to groan at the ecstasy building inside her again.

“So I haven’t.” His head lowered, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “Get ready, precious.”

The moan she had tried to hold back slipped free as the head of his cock began to stretch delicate tissue, to stroke nerve endings never before touched.

Crowding sensations began to tear through her. The burning heat of the penetration, the shift and thrust of his cockhead inside her, never going far enough, never fully possessing her as the pleasure began to rise inside her once again.

Marty lost sense of what she knew was coming. She knew only what she wanted, what she needed. She needed him deep inside her. She needed the stroke and thrust of him against tender nerve endings suddenly blazing for touch.

Her hips arched, her legs wrapped around his hips as she writhed beneath him, reaching desperately for more.

“Easy,” he groaned. “Slow and easy, Marty.”

“No.” Her head shook as she tightened around him, fighting to draw him deeper inside her. “Fuck me, Khalid. Now. Please God, now.”

His hips jerked, burying his erection deeper inside her, the burn suddenly building, intensifying as he drew back once before surging forward with a hard, blinding thrust.

Pleasure and pain merged. Fiery heat and desperate hunger blended as Marty cried out his name, her arms tightening around his neck as he buried himself inside her to the hilt.

Excruciating pleasure. There was no other way to describe it, to sense it. A pleasure that bordered pain. A pain that bordered ecstasy.

“Fuck. You’re burning me alive,” he groaned against her lips as she felt his erection throbbing inside her.

“Now.” She could feel the inferno beginning to blaze inside her, the building sensations, the desperation and need that he just move.

“Now.” A gentle nip at her lips, and he was moving.

Marty stared up at him, watching the expression of building pleasure as it tightened his face, feeling the exquisite rapture racing inside her as he began to fuck her with deep, heavy strokes.

Pleasure began to escalate inside her, to whip across her nerve endings as her body began to demand more, her senses becoming lost in the hunger tearing through him.

Tightening her legs around his hips, tilting her hips to the stroke and drive of his, she let the building pleasure escalate. She didn’t bother to fight it. She knew better than to try to control it. Ecstasy was just a heartbeat away, one last surrender to fulfillment.

She gave him that surrender. Her body tightened around him, the delicate muscles clenched and milked his cock as each thrust became harder, pushing inside her, stretching her, impaling her with heated hunger as the explosions began to detonate through her body.

The cry that echoed around her was her own. Her body tightened, arched, then began to tremble as white-hot impulses of sensation began to tear through it.

Raking her nails along his back, she cried out his name as she felt each thrust increase until a strangled groan tore from his throat. She felt the heated, furious blasts of his release inside her. The sensation triggered another fiery burst of pleasure through her body, another orgasm that drew her tight within his arms and forced a cry from her lips.

It was rapture. It was dying and being reborn. It was agony and ecstasy, and Marty knew in that moment that she had lost something in his arms that she may never be able to regain again.

She had, in all possibility, lost her heart.

Gently, Khalid cleaned Marty’s exhausted body as she dozed. With a soft, warm cloth he wiped the perspiration from her face, her neck, and her breasts. From between her thighs he cleaned the sweet juices and the excess of their passion before toweling her dry and pulling the blankets gently over her body.

Donning comfortable cotton pants, he sat at the edge of the bed for long moments, trying to speak, trying to tell her the rest of the truth, the mistakes he had made. The reason why it was so important that he not lose her.

She was tired, he told himself. He could tell her when the sun rose, when he perhaps had more information on his brothers.

His contacts should know something by now, he assured himself. He would speak to them first, then he would speak to her.

Bending to her he kissed Marty’s forehead gently then rose from the bed and quietly left the room to allow her to sleep.

He had to know where his half brothers were, what their plans were and if they had targeted Marty. And if they had, then he had a decision to make. Plans to put together. Killing in cold blood was far different than taking down a terrorist cell.

They would stop at nothing to kill Marty. And that was something he could never allow.

Now, he had to protect her, even if it meant becoming the coldblooded killer his brothers accused him of being.

She wasn’t going to survive the emotions tearing her apart. As Marty escaped the estate hours after Khalid had left the bed and disappeared into his study, she had to fight back her shame. It wasn’t shame about what they had done. The pleasure had been so intense, so mind-blowing, that there wasn’t a chance in hell that she could feel ashamed about it.

It came from the very fact that for some reason he hadn’t been able to lie beside her, to sleep with her, once the sex act had been completed. The anger that had surged through her once she realized that he had no intention of returning to her had burned through her like wildfire and had sent pain into the very depths of her soul.

The next afternoon she still hadn’t managed to get a handle on that pain and anger.

Khalid had called more than once that afternoon and the messages on her answering machine were becoming colder, and obviously angrier. And she was becoming more nervous. Khalid wasn’t the type of man to whom a woman said no easily. If nothing else, bittersweet regret would linger in her memories for more years than it should.

And he wouldn’t do it through physical intimidation. Oh hell no, Khalid would use his sexuality, his experience, and a woman’s hunger to make damned sure she didn’t escape him until he was ready to let her go. And that terrified her almost as much as the intensity of her emotions did. Her body was in conflict with her mind, and it was craving more of Khalid.

The phone rang again. Turning to stare at the offending instrument, Marty waited until the answering machine clicked on.

“Marty, it’s Shayne.” The amusement in his tone had her frowning. “It seems Khalid’s upset with you, darling. Could you give him a call? I’m afraid he just might lose that legendary control of his soon if you don’t.”

Marty winced. Yes, Khalid’s patience was considered legendary.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t make this harder on yourself than it has to be,” he finished, just before the recorder clicked off.

Great. Now Shayne. She should have listened to her instincts where he was concerned. He was simply too damned dominating.

She bit at a fingernail as she paced the living room floor, struggling with what she wanted to do versus the anger and fear rising inside her. What the hell had he done to her the night before? Hell, it was just sex. Right? It wasn’t as though he had grown two heads and tried to steal her soul.
Well, he hadn’t grown two heads
, she thought, with a weary sigh. But the stealing her soul part… she wasn’t too sure about that. Her entire body was too sensitive, as though being away from Khalid was putting her through some sort of withdrawal.

She wanted him again. Her pussy was wet, her breasts sensitive, her arms ached to hold him, her thighs tingled at the memory of the feel of him between them.

She almost scoffed at the idea of an addiction, but God, she just needed him. But she had needed him for years. The feelings raging through her were amplified from those that she had felt before he had taken her in that big bed of his. Before his release had spilled inside her. Before he had cleaned her with painstaking care afterward.

Why hadn’t she believed the rumors that Khalid rarely slept with a lover? That in most cases the members of the club who more often played the role of a third did so because the responsibilites, such as sleeping with their lovers, were the very responsibilities they shunned in a relationship.

She had needed that sense of intimacy, though. She had ached for it with the same strength that she had ached for his touch, his possession. The lack of it now left her struggling with both anger and pride.

The problem was, she had no idea how to do anything about it. The most she had managed to do was perhaps piss him off because she had left before he was ready for her to leave.

And there was no doubt that he was angry. She had refused to answer the phone all morning, but he had still called. Several times. His voice becoming darker and more brooding each time. At least she had some satisfaction from that. Slight though it may be.

The phone rang once again.

“Have you ever been spanked?” Khalid’s tone was dark, brooding. “Because I’m thinking that’s just what you need, baby. Pick up this damned phone, Marty. Now.” She stared at it as though it were a snake, coiled and hissing. The recorder clicked off as a surge of nervous energy began to race through her. If she stayed here, then there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that Khalid would be there soon. She would have to face him eventually, but she had hoped to get a handle on whatever the hell it was she was feeling, and to get over her anger, before dealing with the situation.

If she only knew what to do now. How did you make a man provide the intimacy needed when he clearly seemed against it?

The other part of this intimacy problem was the half-truths he had given her the night before. He had given her just enough to warn her that danger could be coming soon, but not enough to provide a clear picture why.