Maisey Yates - Midnight on the Sands - Hajar's Hidden Legacy / To Touch a Sheikh / Her Sheikh Protector

He teased her there, too. His tongue so close to the bundle of nerves that she knew was there just to send her over the edge into total, orgasmic bliss. He didn’t, though, even though she had no doubt he could with the slightest flick of his talented tongue. He simply teased, his tongue moving over tender skin, making her body shiver with delight.

He stood suddenly, pausing to look at her, that wicked smile, the most genuine show of emotion beyond anger that she’d seen, was still on his face.

“The bed,” he said.

And she knew it was an order. One she would gladly follow.

She walked backward, keeping her eyes locked with his, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She sat down, pushed herself backward. It put her in a vulnerable position, like a buffet spread out for a starving man.

He joined her on the bed, his hands moving over her curves as he kissed her mouth with ravenous need.

He cupped her breasts, teased her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure skittering through her veins. He moved his other hand between her thighs, pushing two fingers near her entrance gathering the moisture there and sliding it over to her clitoris.

The slick stimulation was so good, everything she’d been waiting for. She didn’t bother to suppress the groan of pleasure that climbed her throat.

He leaned toward her, flicked his tongue over nipple, then laved it with a long, broad stroke. “Oh, Zahir.”

She paused then, afraid that she’d make him stop. Afraid she’d ruined it again.

A dark intensity lit his eyes and he dipped his head again, sucking the tip of her breast deep into his mouth, then running his tongue around the edge of her nipple.

“Say it again,” he said roughly.

She never thought to do anything but comply. “Zahir.”

“Again,” he said, kissing her stomach, beneath her belly button.

“Zahir.”

He parted her thighs with his broad shoulders, his grip on her legs keeping her immobile. Keeping her just where he wanted her.

He stroked her aching flesh, rubbing the tips of his fingers over her that most sensitive part of her again.

He lowered his head and followed the same path his fingers had just taken with the flat of his tongue. So hot and slick, so much more intense than anything that had come before. He explored her, pleasured her that way until she was certain she was going to have to shed her skin to find some relief from the tightening, spiraling sensation that made everything in her feel too large for her body.

He pushed one finger into her and stars exploded behind her eyelids, raining down on her, leaving little prickles of heat where they landed as wave after wave of pleasure moved in her, pulsing in time with her internal muscles.

She felt shell-shocked, numb and sensitized at the same time. Like it was too much and not enough.

Zahir moved up to lie beside her, caressing her face, stroking her hair, scattering kisses on her shoulder. His erection pressing hard and insistent against her hip.

“Now what?” she asked, making a move to cup his shaft.

He caught her hand in his, kissed her upturned palm. “More of the same.”

He leaned in and kissed her mouth, and she started to melt again.

WHEN the last shudder of pleasure escaped her lips, Zahir stood from the bed. Katharine rolled to her side and watched him. He was still half-dressed, and physically unsatisfied, his erection evident, pressing against his pants.

“Come here,” she said, more than ready for that next step. He’d brought her to orgasm three times, and it was time, not just for his pleasure, but for her to have him. She didn’t know why, but it felt possessive. Like he would belong to her when she had him inside of her.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you? Not that I haven’t enjoyed watching you take your pleasure.”

“Come and get some of your own,” she said, not entirely understanding his cryptic statement.

“I’ve had plenty of it this evening. Tasting you, touching you, that was pleasure enough.”

“Zahir … “

He turned away from her, the moonlight filtering through the window, catching the raised ridges of flesh that marred his back. “You are a virgin?”

“I … at this point only a technicality.”

“You should remain that way then.”

“Isn’t that up to me?” she asked, clutching the bedcovers to her bare breasts and pushing herself into a sitting position.

“And me. If I do not wish … “

“You don’t wish to be with me?” She looked down at the clear outline of his arousal. “I call foul on that.”

“Tell me, is this virginity of yours a part of my marriage bargain?”

She felt heat creep into her cheeks. “More or less.”

“Is that why you’re still a virgin? Because you thought you might need it with Malik gone?”

“I … It’s complicated. But I would be lying if I said that had nothing to do with it.” It was shaming to admit. She’d never truly imagined any man would question it. Royals tended to have that view of the world. A virgin bride was important, and her being able to qualify as royal bride material had always been essential. A part of her purpose. The biggest part.

It had been ingrained in her that it was the right thing. That it was one of her commodities.

The thought made her sick now. It wasn’t something she dwelled on, not usually. Why would she? She hadn’t exactly had suitors banging down her door and part of her had been afraid that, if she’d chosen to seek out relationships, it would make her father start looking for someone else to sell her to.

She’d been enjoying her reprieve too much to let it end. But when marriage to Zahir had come up as her best option for protecting Austrich, she’d been ready.

“What if you need it later?” he asked, his tone dark.

“I’ll be divorced,” she said. “No one will expect it.”

Her throat tightened. Was she really doing this? All but begging the man to have sex with her? Was she really thinking of sleeping with him now, divorcing him and finding someone else later?

Rage shook her, mingling with a slow, rolling shiver of shame that seemed to start in her stomach and move through her limbs, making her feel weak. Angry. “Get out.”

He inclined his head. “As you wish, latifa .”

He turned and walked out. She wanted to call him back. So she could scream at him. So she could make love with him.

She lay back down and curled her knees into her chest. She’d never felt so out of place in her own body. A body that was still humming from his touch, still lit up with pleasure, from all he had done. And inside … inside was raw. Tender and bleeding.

She thought back to the intensity she’d seen on his face when he’d first walked into the bedroom.

I’m here to show you that there are still ways I can put any man to shame .

He hadn’t been here to prove it to her. He’d been proving it to himself. On the heels of the comment that journalist had made … and then Katharine had defended him. His pride had been on the line and he’d used her body to restore it.

He’d given her pleasure, more than she’d ever imagined possible, but it hadn’t been hers. It had been his. His retribution. His proof.

She pounded her fist on her pillow and let out a growl of frustration. She had been his therapy yet again. She had proven useful.

Earlier today she might have accepted that. She’d been helpful, after all. Worthwhile. But that wasn’t what tonight had been for her. It wasn’t what she wanted it to be. She hadn’t been out to prove her worth, she’d been in it for herself. For the driving need that made her body ache and her heart race.