The True King of Dahaar - Page 40

With a frustrated sigh, he rolled off her, and Nikhat instantly felt his loss. Turning sideways, she kissed his cheek.

She continued peppering kisses on his chest, on his throat, on his jaw. Throwing caution to the winds, she straddled him, heat tightening her cheeks.

His gaze moved over her body with a thoroughness that had her sex wet again, his mouth curved into a wicked smile. “You’re a stubborn, determined woman. I forgot that.”

“I want my prince and I will have him, come what may,” she said, more than glad to see his smile.

A bone-deep joy flickered into life within her. Another man, she knew, would have found shame in his inability in that moment, lost his confidence. But he hadn’t. She couldn’t help wondering if he realized it, couldn’t help but hope that she had a small part in it.

The joy that swept through her had a double edge to it because it also meant that the man she had loved long ago was beginning to come back, the man who had breathed and lived Dahaar, he was still alive beneath that clawing guilt and self-recrimination.

She clasped his erection and slowly lowered herself onto him. Heat flared within the walls of her sex, a delicious friction gliding deep into her skin. She straightened her spine, and his gaze moved to her breasts, color riding those sharp cheekbones. He drew his hand over her midriff to the valley between her breasts.

Moving to his elbows, he sent her a scorching glance. “Bend down, Nikhat. I want to kiss you.”

When she dutifully did, he put that sinful mouth on her breast instead.

And Nikhat arched at the sinuous heat that pooled low in her belly again.

His teeth scraped her nipple and waves began building inside again.

“Move the way your body wants you to,” he said, burying his face in her neck. “I’m all yours.”

Giving in to her body’s instinct, Nikhat moved. Their gazes held, their breath hitched as she moved faster, finding a rhythm that sent her once again to the edge. “Come for me, Nikhat.”

His words were a raw command. And to match his words, he snuck his hands to where their bodies were joined.

His dark, rough fingers on the swollen bundle of nerves, it was the most erotic sight she had ever seen. Another coil of pressure gripped her and she clamped her thighs and moved over him.

And was rewarded by his deep, hoarse grunt of pleasure.

Nikhat came in a deep, swift swamp of sensations that had her crying his name out loud. His fingers on her hips controlling her movements, Azeez pushed harder and deeper, the slap of his flesh against hers pinging around them.

The sweat beading on his forehead, the dark fire in his gaze, the very starkness of his features, the way he lingered on that last thrust, the way every muscle in his body tightened and released as he climaxed, Nikhat watched him hungrily, even as her body felt as if it would come apart at the seams.

His breath was loud and harsh in the silence, his skin sweat slicked, his chest rising and falling, every muscle and sinew hard and shuddering.

That she had done this to this powerful, beautiful man, that it was her body that sent those spasms of pleasure through him, it was the most powerful, the most magnificent, moment of her life.

She collapsed onto him, and thought she saw a flash of shock in his gaze. When he pushed her hair from her forehead and kissed her temple, she smiled, for once, in an utterly glorious place.

Sweat coated her skin, her thighs still quaking with tiny tremors and still joined with him in the most intimate of ways.

And for the first time in her life, she reveled in every sensation that pierced her body, every little quake and flutter, every little tingle and ache, for the first time in a long time, she loved her body, damaged as it was.

Smiling, she kissed his warm skin and tasted his sweat.

She had never felt more like a woman.

* * *

Adjusting their bodies so that she was on her back, Azeez slowly pulled himself from under Nikhat. Her soft snores made him smile, but his curiosity, now blazing like a wildfire, refused to be distracted. He turned on the bed lamp on his side. The feeble light threw her lush breasts into focus and for a few minutes, he was lost.

She instantly turned sideways again, seeking warmth, and he stilled her with an arm around her waist.

And there it was.

The scar he had seen just as he had found glorious climax. Not that the blinding pleasure he had found in her was in any way blunted by his sudden observation. But now, the sheets cooling off around them, now that the edge of his hunger was blunted, he couldn’t stop wondering.

The scar was about a half inch wide and was right above the hair that covered her sex. It looked precise, and he realized it was the result of a surgery.

Instantly, he thought of the name she had given him for her condition, wondered at the seriousness of it.

Tags: Tara Pammi Billionaire Romance
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