Lora Leigh - Guilty Pleasure

And he could do a damned good job of it , she thought. She was burning for him. She had been burning for him before arriving at the estate. But she was also tired of feeling as though she were the odd person out of a very important secret. A secret that just might involve her.

“I have a feeling the hounds of hell couldn’t distract you once you latched onto something.” He grimaced ruefully. “You are rather stubborn, my love.”

“It’s called tenacity,” she informed him sweetly. “It’s what’s gotten me this far with you, Khalid. Are you regretting it?”

“Are you?” She wished she could avoid those heated looks as easily as she could avoid his touch.

“What I’m feeling at the moment isn’t up for discussion,” she answered him with a bright smile as she used one of his own tactics in response to his question. “I believe you’re the one we’re discussing. What do my fathers think you’re being paranoid about?”

“Joe doesn’t think I’m paranoid about anything.” He moved around her until his chest was at her back, his head lowering so he could stroke his cheek against her hair.

Subtle. Tempting. He was using her own tactics on her by seducing her, and it was working.

“My godfather does. He’s usually fairly smart where some things are concerned. And it was more than obvious he was attempting to bring us to the point of an argument. So whatever you’re trying to hide from me must involve me quite a bit.” She sounded breathless. She was breathless.

His hands stroked down her bare arms as his lips whispered over the flesh of a shoulder left bare by the sleeveless top she wore.

“Zach is angry.” His teeth raked over the rounded curve of her shoulder.

Shards of sensation raced down her spine, exploded in her clit. She was growing so wet, so slick, she had to clench her thighs to keep from moaning.

“Why is Zach angry?” Her lashes fluttered closed as his hands gripped her hips and pulled her back.

The feel of the hard length of his cock beneath his jeans as it pressed into her lower back had her breath catching in jerky response.

“Because I refuse to stay out of his daughter’s bed,” he stated, as she melted at the heated tone of his voice. “Because I refuse to distract you from investigating your attempted murder. Because I refuse to make you listen to my need to protect you rather than your own instincts.”

His lips moved from her shoulder to her neck, his tongue sensually touching her skin. She hated the fact that his explanation was clearly an attempt to evade her, yet it still sent a rush of pleasure racing through her system to hear his apparent willingness to understand her need to live her own life.

“That sounds like Zach,” she gasped, her head falling to the side in pleasure even as she acknowledged silently that he had managed to distract her without lying to her.

He didn’t have to lie. He had the power of his touch. That touch was enough to fry her brain.

“Now you are guilty of leaving my bed this morning.” He nipped at her neck in retaliation.

“Oh yeah. I did. I had things to do.” Things like following Shayne to find out what the hell he was being so sneaky about.

Khalid’s hands moved from her hips, his fingers curling in the material of her shirt to pull it slowly from her jeans. So slowly. The silk slid up her midriff, over the lacy bra, and finally cleared her head.

It pooled to a small puddle on the floor as his hands moved to cup the heaving mounds of her breasts.

Pleasure suffused her as the sheer joy she felt from his touch began to build within her. She had waited so long. She had fantasized, dreamed, ached for him, and finally, she was sharing his bed. Perhaps not his heart yet, but definitely his pleasure, and not as a third. He was her lover. It was his bed she slept in, his arms that surrounded her and held her through the night when rumor was that holding a lover through the night was something he wasn’t known for.

His fingers circled her nipples, tugged at them, sent racing bolts of exquisite heated sensations racing straight to her clit. She was going to burn in his arms. She was going to melt to a puddle on the floor and beg him to fuck her within seconds.

“What sort of things did you have to do, little flower?” The front clip of her bra was tugged loose as he abandoned her nipples to relieve her of the restrictive garment.

“Things.” She nearly moaned the word as his fingers caressed the sensitive sides of her breasts before brushing delicately against her nipples.

“What sort of things did you have to do, precious?” He chose that moment to exert just enough pressure on her nipples to have her back arching, a strangled cry tearing from her throat.

Reaching back for him, desperate to touch him now, to feel more of the incredible pleasure he gave her, Marty gave a low, ecstatic moan as she fought for more pleasure.

“Not yet, little flower.” Catching her wrists in his hand, he locked them behind her back, keeping her arched against him as his free hand moved to the snap of her jeans.

“Push your sandals from your feet,” he commanded, his tone rich with lust.

Stumbling, her knees weak, Marty did as he ordered while the zipper of her jeans gave a light hiss as he lowered it.

“Now, we were discussing the things you had to do this morning,” he reminded her.

“No,” she gasped, as his free hand slid into the parted fabric and eased beneath the low band of her panties. “You were discussing them.”

His chuckle was low, dark. “You’re being very naughty.”

“So spank me… Oh God, Khalid.” She couldn’t hold back the cry as his fingertips glanced over the swollen knot of her clit.

It was exquisite. Pleasure raced through her pussy, around her clit, suffused her body.

“Spank you. I could do that,” he assured her, as his hand pulled from her jeans, only to begin pushing the snug material over her hips. “I could really get into that, Marty. Watching your pretty ass blush, hearing you beg for more.”

She was already ready to beg for more. He didn’t have to spank her to get that.

He worked the jeans down her thighs and below her knees. “Step from the jeans, precious.”

She stepped from the material, dressed in nothing but panties dampened by her desire. The silk clung to the bare curves of her sex as his hand slid up her thigh.

Her hands were still held behind her back, and she ached to touch him, to feel his flesh beneath her palms, against her skin.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and turned her until she was facing the antique, full-length mirror that sat in the corner of the library.

She looked so wanton. Arched back in his arms, her breasts swollen, her nipples flushed. Pale rose panties barely covered the mound of her pussy, and she could see the dampness at the crotch.

She watched as his hand moved to the panties. She expected him to push them over her thighs. He gripped the side, and with a quick movement the fragile material rent and fell away.

A gasp tore from her lips as the motion caused a flare of wicked pleasure to tear through her womb.

She was naked. Her pussy gleamed with her juices, the flesh flushed with need.

“Spread your legs,” he whispered at her ear.

Behind her, Khalid was fully dressed, but his expression was filled with such stark hunger that it didn’t seem to matter.

She spread her legs, watching in the mirror as his fingers slid between them, parted the swollen curves, and revealed the glistening bud of her clit.

“Watch,” he breathed against her ear. “See what I see when I touch you. Watch the pleasure your body fills with.”

The tip of his finger began to circle her clit, rubbing against it, around it, sending such electrically charged sensations tearing through her that her hips jerked against the caress.