Lora Leigh - Guilty Pleasure

He stared back at her for what seemed like long minutes.

“If I believed you wanted only me, then I would gladly take what you offered,” he said finally. “But we both know that that is not true.”

She couldn’t evade him; she didn’t even try. His arm curled around her waist, pulling her to him, his head lowering, his lips taking hers without hesitation.

The instant his lips touched hers, Marty felt herself melt, unable to fight the need or herself any further. She wanted this kiss; she wanted this man.

There was something about his touch that made her weak, that tore aside the shields she had built around herself for so long. She had made Khalid unattainable to herself, and in doing so had only driven the hunger for him higher.

She could sate herself with him. It didn’t have to be love , she thought desperately, as his lips, his kiss, began to devour her. It didn’t have to be a lifetime of strife or conflict. It could be just this. Just what they wanted, what they both wanted . And when it was done she could go on with her life.

She could do that.

Her arms encircled his neck, her lips parted farther, her tongue met his in a sensual, sensuous dance that became heated, desperate.

Thick black hair met her fingers and she entwined them in the silkiness in order to pull him closer. His hard, lean, muscled body sheltered hers, surrounded her as his arms held her close to his chest, his head bent to hers.

She felt sucked into another world. A world where nothing mattered, nothing existed but the hunger suddenly tearing through her.

Pleasure rushed through her system with each devouring kiss Khalid shared with her. It built, became hotter, each nerve ending in her body more sensitive as she felt his hands moving over her back, feeling the heat of his flesh through the thin material of her robe.

She wanted his hands on her naked body, touching her, skin to skin. She wanted his body covering her, his hands stroking her.

A hard breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers move to the tie of her robe. Experienced fingers loosened it and drew the edges of the robe apart. His hands smoothed over her bare hips.

Shayne simply watched. This moment wasn’t for him to share in, not yet. The emotions between Khalid and Marty were running too close to the surface. Too much desperation filled them, too many haunting secrets threatened to tear them apart. For now, he left them alone and merely watched as the hunger surrounding the two began to fill the room.

“You make a man desperate for you,” Khalid groaned, his voice thick with hunger. “So desperate he would risk all that he is to have you.”

Her lashes lifted, and her stomach clenched as she read the need to touch her, to have her, in his expression.

Had she ever been wanted with such ferocity by anyone?

“Marty, my sweet little flower.” The sound of his voice, husky, deep, the words gentle, caused her heart to tighten as his hands lifted to push the robe from her shoulders.

Silk pooled at her feet and she watched his expression tighten, his black eyes blaze with lust.

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 breasts, cupping them, his thumbs raking over her nipples, 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 nipples, the feel of his lips on hers, his hands stroking over her body, cupping her breasts, plucking at her nipples.

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 breasts. His hands cupped the swollen mounds, his thumbs stroking over the nipples 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 pussy was on fire from the need. Her clit 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 pussy, and a second later two fingers began pressing inside her, stretching her, burning her.

“Khalid!” She cried his name as her hips arched, her thighs spreading farther apart as the initial penetration sent a shock through hidden nerve endings, exposing them, sensitizing them further.

Her hips 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.