She couldn’t look away from his face, those lines etched deep, the planes and angles carved into a handsome, purely masculine face. His hair was messy, wild even, long and glossy dark. His eyes blazed down into hers and she saw an absolute predator staring down at her. Focused. Brutal. Dominant. Possessive. It should have frightened her, but there was something else in his eyes, something that made her feel absolutely safe with him.
He’d branded her as his, and she knew he meant it. She could see that in his eyes. She felt it in his touch. So possessive. She’d never done anything like this in her life. Never. But she knew she belonged to him, and she needed him desperately to move. If he didn’t move, she was going to go up in flames like a phoenix. Turn to ashes. Nothing left.
Tariq, watching her face, withdrew and slammed deep, all the while holding her gaze captive with his, judging her reaction to his hard, brutal stroke, and then held still again to give her body time to adjust to his invasion.
“More.” She whispered it to him. “Please, Tariq. More.” Even as she pleaded with him, she knew that he would take her without mercy, and God help her, that was what she wanted – even needed – from him.
He gave her more and then some. Pounding into her. Taking her thoroughly. His hands hard on her hips, holding her in place while he surged into her, again and again, jolting her body with each brutal thrust. Her breasts rocked in invitation with every hard jackhammer surge. Lightning seemed to lash through her veins. The tension inside her coiled tighter and tighter. She needed… something.
“Tariq.” She said his name. Low. Calling out to him when she didn’t know what to do to ease the terrible burn that built and built. It was building so high fear skittered down her spine.
“I have you, sielamet,” he assured, his eyes scorching a brand through her.
She felt that brand with his every finger digging into her hips. With every stroke, he burned his name into her, deep inside her body, until she felt owned by him. Taken by him. Thoroughly his.
“Eyes to mine, Charlotte,” he commanded, his voice sexily low and gravelly, the voice that turned her inside out. “Let me see into your soul.”
She loved the way he said that. As if he meant every word. More, when she looked into his eyes, she felt anchored. Safe. Her world narrowed until there was only him. She breathed him in with every breath she took. He was inside her body, filling and stretching her until the burn was so scorching hot she was afraid she’d lose her mind. She clung to his arms, her fingernails like tiny daggers, scoring his shoulders and arms, trying to find a purchase when every brutal stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through her. Yet, for all that, the horrible coiling inside her refused to release – just continued to build and build until she thought she might go insane.
“Tariq.” She whispered his name, hips bucking to meet his, head tossing back and forth even as she stared helplessly into his eyes. “I need…” She didn’t know. Something. He had to do something. Right. Now.
“I know, sielamet. I’ve got you.”
He shifted her hips, dragged her body up just a few inches, changing the angle, and then he thrust into her, over and over, hitting the exact spot until she thought the world was exploding around her.
“Now, Charlotte. Come for me now.”
Her body tumbled over the edge of a deep precipice, fragmenting, soaring. The ripples didn’t stop – refused to leave her, her body not her own, out of her control – and still he didn’t stop, a relentless, pistoning machine. Velvet over steel. Scorching hot. Beautiful. Perfect. Frightening. Thrilling.
“Again, sielamet.” It was sheer demand. A command. His face was set in implacable lines. His eyes blazed fire. He was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
How could she possibly go again without pleasure consuming her, taking her over? She shook her head, but she knew she would give him anything he wanted. Whatever he demanded of her. She couldn’t stop herself. He would always be her one weakness. Always.
She let go, this time her orgasm even more powerful, ripping through her with tremendous force, radiating out from her core down to her thighs and up to her belly, spreading out and moving to her breasts like an earthquake of mammoth proportions. She heard her thin wail, her soft cries of his name, his groan as her body took his with it. She felt the hot splash of jet after jet of his seed pulsing into her triggering yet another strong quake.
For what seemed an eternity, he stood over her, her legs wrapped around him, ankles locked in the small of his back, his cock buried deep in her, his gaze holding hers, telling her without words, just the way his body had told her, that she belonged to him. She was already having trouble catching her breath and that look just made it more difficult.
He leaned over her, breathing hard, planting a kiss on her belly button. The movement triggered another ripple, this one less forceful but no less pleasurable. His mouth swept up her rib cage to the undersides of her breasts, caressing with his tongue, suckling first one breast and then the other. His teeth on her left nipple sent yet another strong quake through her.
His mouth continued upward to take possession of her throat. Her chin. Finally, finally, her lips. He took her mouth as ruthlessly as he had her body. Claiming her. She lost herself in his kisses. One after another. Deep. Hard. Wet. Perfect. All the while his cock stayed inside her, not relaxing, not slipping away, but stretching her. Pulsing. His heart beating there. Beating in his chest against her breasts. Beating in her core, while she pulsed and her heart beat around his cock. She was acutely aware of every cell in her body. Every nerve ending. Of every inch of her. And all of her belonged to Tariq Asenguard.
“Hold on, sielamet. Keep your ankles locked and put your arms around my neck. Keep your face tight against my shoulder and close your eyes for me.”
There was no way to resist his voice. She would always want to please him, to give him anything he desired. With his eyes staring into hers, she melted into his body, her breasts imprinting onto his chest as she slid her arms around his neck and locked her fingers at his nape. She buried her face against his shoulder and closed her eyes, actually feeling the sweep of her lashes against his skin.
She had the sensation of moving. Floating. She drifted, feeling every movement of his body through their connection – his cock stretching her, growing even thicker and harder as he carried her. He had to be incredibly strong to do that and she wanted to see where they were going, but once she closed her eyes, she couldn’t seem to open them. She was exhausted. Worn-out from her constant vigilance, trying to keep Lourdes safe…