She was still screaming out her first orgasm when he surged inside, filling her beyond comprehension.
Just as the first time, it wasn’t merely her body he filled, but her heart and her mind until she could not breathe without breathing him in, could not think without thinking of him, could not feel without feeling him.
Her second orgasm came over in a wave of such intense pleasure, it bordered on pain.
He wasn’t done yet, though. He held himself rigid through her body’s convulsions and only started moving again when her breathing had slowed down to hiccupping pants.
He brushed at the tears she hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. “Aziz.”
“I love you, Zahir.”
Something moved in his gaze and then he started to move again, this time building to a rhythm that left her gasping with no sound for her scream when she reached the pinnacle of pleasure again…with him.
He insisted she sleep in his bed that night after they bathed together; she rested better than she had since returning from the States, her body, mind and heart as at peace as they could be.
She woke the next morning to gentle hands moving over her body. She went to reach for him, but her hands were stuck and it was then she realized they were bound to the headboard with something made of the softest silk.
“Zahir?” she asked as her eyes opened to the shadows of early dawn.
His look was as intent as she’d ever seen it. “Is it all right?”
Perhaps another woman would say no. Perhaps with another man, she should. But Angele knew what Zahir was asking her and it wasn’t just whether or not she was willing to let him make love to her with her hands bound.
He was asking if she trusted him enough to allow it.
The only things she knew about kink were the jokes passed around the water cooler at her former job, but this was instinctive. She didn’t need to know about anyone else’s intimacy to know this was right between her and Zahir.
He needed to know she trusted him completely and if she was honest with herself, and she always tried to be, she needed to know the same thing. This binding was for both their sakes, a chance to undo the damage too many years between the signing of the contract and their actual wedding had wrought.
It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was one of intent.
She could accept it. “Yes. It’s all right.”
The tension in the lines around his eyes dissipated and he smiled, happiness glowing forth in a way she’d never seen from him. “You are so alluring this way.”
And he was unbearably sexy with that look of joy in his eyes. He might not love her, but then again he might. No matter what had been said on the subject to this point. One thing was certain, though: she was able to give him something no one else could. He’d told her he’d never tried this type of thing with another woman and she believed him.
He would not trust a casual lover not to go to the tabloids with the sexual peccadilloes of the Crown Sheikh of Zohra.
He was a man who must maintain personal control at all times and had far too much responsibility on his plate for any normal man. But he was not an average guy, not even close.
He was something more and so was this. Something special and incredible.
“Will you ever let me turn the tables?” she asked, not sure she wanted to, but curious.
“If you’d like.” And she knew he meant it. He was willing to trust her in ways he would never have trusted another.
“Maybe someday…” she said, the last word trailing off into a moan as his heated mouth made love to her body.
Rich male humor sounded even as he upped the stakes and drove her toward pleasure only he had ever been able to give her.
Zahir accompanied Angele on the walk back to her room, shrugging when she commented that if they were caught together in the secret passageway there could be no doubt what they had been up to. “You are mine.”
“You’re a possessive man.”
“And are you any less possessive?”
She didn’t even have to think about it. “No.”