“I want you to scream my name when you come,” he dropped his mouth to her throat, nipping her flesh there, smiling when she groaned. He pushed his erection forward slightly, and she cried out, ‘yes’, over and over, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“Yes, what?” He pulled back.
“Please,” she groaned, digging her ankles into the small of his back in an attempt to pull him deeper.
“Beg me,” he said simply.
“Why?”
Because you were my brother’s in every way except this. Because I alone make you feel this. Because I want you to admit that in this way, we own each other.
“Because I say so.”
She bit down on her lip and rolled her hips, her arousal at fever pit
ch.
He could feel her trembling and knew her release would be swift and powerful. He wanted to give her that, he wanted to make her come hard and fast and then he wanted to tease and torment her body all night long, bringing her to the point of explosion again and again until finally letting her fall apart.
“You’re such a bastard,” she groaned.
“A bastard you want inside you.”
She rolled her hips again. “Yes. Damn it, yes. Please, Malik, please.”
His chest burst with an explosion of relief and he thrust into her, so hard and fast that he felt some of his own seed drop into her. With the utmost control, he steadied himself, holding his own pleasure at bay as he thrust into her again and again, watching as she became incoherent with desire, vowing they would never spend another night apart.
“You are moving to my room,” he grunted, as she called his name, finally, over and over, and he thought he’d never heard anything so sexy. “This is where you belong.”
She screamed when she came, pleasure pulling her apart at the seams, her heels digging into his back, her nails scratching his flesh, her teeth clamping down on his shoulder. She was wracked with heavy breathing, the intensity of their coming together exploding around them.
He held her while her breath stilled, he felt the moment passion overtook resentment and he understood why. He’d never made a woman beg for him – though plenty had.
He’d never used sex as a carrot to entice a woman to do what he wanted. He’d never withheld pleasure as a means to compel someone to carry out his wishes.
He would have been ashamed, except it had felt so damned good.
She pulled away from him, lifting her head, looking over his shoulder, her expression showing she was at war with herself. There was a wariness to her he didn’t like seeing. A sense of uncertainty that he wanted to erase.
“Why did you do that?”
He rolled his hips and she jerked, her eyes slashing to his, heavy with desire and sparking with resentment.
He sighed, lifting her away from the wall without breaking their connection.
“I’m serious, Malik…”
Now, when she said his name, it was thick with hurt and that did something inside him. He expelled a breath, kissing her gently as he laid her down on the bed. “I like to know you are thinking of me when we do this,” he said simply.
Her eyes flew wide and resentment gave way to compassion – which he hated. He didn’t want that. But she was giving it to him anyway, pushing up on her elbows and kissing him, her tongue dueling with his, her hands tangling in his hair.
“Who else would I be thinking of?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The ghost of Addan was alive enough for both of them to perceive him.
There was no point speaking his name.
She’d go soon. When her eyes were a little less heavy. And her arms less exhausted. And her… she fell asleep and woke with a start sometime before dawn, disoriented and starving.