Jennifer Lewis - The Sheikh Who Desired Her

She felt so wanton, and almost cried out when Salman cupped the fleshy weight and said throatily, ‘So beautiful … I’ve dreamed of this, Jamilah. I’ve dreamed of you.’

His thumb passed back and forth over the throbbing peak, and when he bent his head and licked around it before sucking it into his mouth she did cry out, holding his head with her hands.

Desperation mounted through her as the memory of the bliss only he could evoke was awoken within her core. ‘You …’ she said breathily. ‘I want to see you.’

Salman stopped his luxurious lavishing of attention on her breast and stood up. With sheer sensual grace and ease of confidence he tugged off his outer robe, and then the thinner under-robe. He kicked off his shoes, his eyes never leaving Jamilah’s even though she couldn’t help but look down and take her fill of his magnificent broad chest. He’d changed since she’d last seen him naked. He’d filled out even more and was truly a man . Broad-shouldered and leanly muscular.

The loose pants barely clung to his narrow hips, and his hands went there to undo the tie. Within seconds they’d fallen to the floor and he stood before her naked and proud, his erection making her eyes go wide. She’d forgotten how big he was.

He came close again, and tipped up her chin with a finger. Then he slid the other strap of her dress down the other arm until her dress fell to her waist. With a gentle tug from his hands it joined his clothes on the floor. Now all she wore were black lace panties and her high heels. Salman looked down her body. Jamilah could feel little fire trails wherever his eyes rested, and between her legs she was aching for his touch.

He reached and took the pin out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders, and then he said huskily, ‘Are you wet for me, Jamilah?’

Jamilah groaned softly in eloquent answer as Salman trailed his index finger down and through the valley of her cleavage. She’d been wet for him since the moment she’d heard the helicopter bring him back to Merkazad.

And then she groaned even louder as Salman dropped to his knees before her and slipped one shoe off and then the other, looking up at her, black eyes glittering wickedly. ‘I want to taste you.’

He pulled her panties down over her hips, down her legs and off. Then he gently pushed her legs apart before taking her right leg and hooking it over his shoulder, opening her up to him.

Jamilah was gone beyond any point of return, and had to put a fist to her mouth when she felt his breath feather through her dark curls. His tongue lashed out and laved her secret inner folds, finding where her clitoris throbbed for attention. She was a helpless captive to this sensual onslaught. She bit her hand, her body spiralling towards the most intense orgasm she’d ever had as Salman licked without mercy until everything exploded around her and went black for a second, her whole body throbbing in the aftermath.

He held her legs when she would have collapsed in a heap, their support completely gone. When she’d recovered enough to focus again, he rose up in a smooth move and lifted her into his arms. Jamilah was boneless. But being held in Salman’s arms with her naked breasts against his chest was making little tremors of arousal start up all over again.

This was how it had been between them—intense and furious. Every time. Salman laid her down gently on his bed and stood up to look at her for a long moment. His intent gaze made her feel sensual and womanly. His obvious arousal made a heady pleasure wash through her in waves. But then she couldn’t stand it any longer. She held out a hand. ‘Salman … I want you.’

To her relief he came down on two hands over her and said gruffly, ‘I want you, too. So much it hurts.’

She twined her hands around his neck and pulled him down on top of her, relishing his heavy weight and that potent hardness between her legs. She spread her legs wide and said huskily, ‘Show me where it hurts and I’ll kiss it better.’ She wasn’t unaware of the symbolism of her kissing away his hurts, of wanting to heal him, and emotion made her chest full.

He touched a finger to his mouth. ‘Here …’

Jamilah reached up and pressed her mouth to his, her tongue darting out to lick and taste, teeth nipping gently at his lower lip.

She pulled back and Salman’s eyes glittered. He pointed to his chest, ‘Here, too …’

Jamilah ran her hands down the sides of his powerful torso, feeling a shudder run through him, and pressed her open mouth to his chest, moving down to find a blunt nipple and licking him there before tugging gently on the hard nub.

He shifted back and his erection slid tantalisingly along the moist folds of her sex. Jamilah’s hips lifted towards him instinctively. She ached for him so badly that she moaned in despair when he moved away for a moment to don protection.

But then he was back, pressing down on top of her, kissing her hungrily. With a powerful move he thrust into her, making her gasp at the sensation. It had been so long for her that she was tight, and she shifted to accommodate Salman’s length.

As Salman started to move, though, the tightness eased, and she could feel that delicious tension building and building. A light sweat broke out on her skin. She wrapped her legs around Salman’s back, causing him to slide even deeper, and she felt his chest move against her breasts with his indrawn breath. With ruthless and relentless precision he brought them higher and higher, until there was nowhere else to go. For a second Jamilah felt a moment of fear at the intensity of the climax about to hit, and when it did all she could do was cling on to Salman until she felt him tense, and then the powerful contractions of her orgasm sent him over the edge, too.

For a long moment there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing and the pounding of their hearts. Salman eased his weight off her and she felt suddenly bereft, and hated herself for feeling like that. She remembered from before that Salman had never really indulged in post-coital tenderness, so she was shocked when he reached for her and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her, cradling her bottom with his thighs. She could feel him, still semi-hard, and blushed.

She lay there for a long time, listening to Salman’s breaths deepen and even out. She couldn’t sleep. She was too wound up in the aftermath. She recalled her blatant provocation of Salman and winced. He might have shown her a more vulnerable side of himself than she’d ever seen, and he might have revealed that he hadn’t intended to be so cruel in his rejection of her, but she knew that he would not welcome recognising that. He was too proud, had been invulnerable for too long. And he would lash out.

Wanting to be gone when he woke, dreading seeing his mocking visage at her easy capitulation, she carefully extricated herself from his arms and reached for a robe that was at the end of the bed. She pulled it on and tied it with shaking hands. She looked at Salman, lying sprawled on the bed like a marauding king or a pirate, and before he could wake walked out of the room and straight to her own, where she went into the bathroom, dropped the robe, and stepped into a hot shower.

She willed the tears not to come, hating herself for her weakness. Suddenly all her recent bravado was gone and she was the same soft-hearted naïve Jamilah, who hadn’t learnt a thing about self-protection. Suddenly she heard a sound, and whirled around to see a naked Salman standing at the door of her shower. Ridiculously she covered her breasts and spluttered, ‘What the—?’

He was grim. ‘I’d bet money right now that you haven’t slept with anyone in a long time. You were almost as tight as the first time we slept together.’