Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 2. Susan Mallery

she cried, when he removed his hands.

      “Patience, Mina.” His breathing was irregular, but his control intact.

      Jasmine squirmed in an effort to make him return. Instead, he gripped her gown at her hips and started to gather the soft material into his big hands. She was bare to her thighs before she registered his intent.

      “No!” She tried to lift her arms but he squeezed with his biceps, trapping her. Unable to watch as he claimed her so blatantly, she pressed her eyes shut. And felt his lips on her neck, on her temple, on her cheek. He stopped raising the nightgown.

      “Mina.” It was an invitation into sin. Jasmine couldn’t resist. She opened her eyes and watched him bare her to the waist, mesmerized by the rich sensuality of his voice.

      “Oh, God.” She felt like a complete and utter wanton, standing there unveiled, her legs parted for balance, Tariq a dark masculine shadow behind her.

      His thigh muscles moved fluidly under her hands as he changed position. To her shock, she felt one thickly muscled thigh slide between her legs. He began to rub it across her aroused flesh, a gentle abrasion that set her senses reeling. There were no barriers between his heat and her moist warmth. Her hands were free but she no longer wanted to stop him.

      “Ride me, Mina.” He shored up the gown with one arm and slid his other one between her legs. Jasmine thought she would lose her mind when she saw his fingers part her curls. He shifted his leg again, inciting her to do what he wanted. Jasmine moaned and, almost without volition, began moving her hips. His fingers stroked her pulsing flesh even as his leg pushed harder and lifted her toes off the floor.

      Lost in his touch, she closed her eyes and rode. Desperate for an anchor, she curled her hands around his biceps, but it was too late. She felt the explosion building, and then suddenly, she crashed. It was as if every part of her had broken apart and then reintegrated. Sobbing with her release, she lay against Tariq, trusting him to hold her up.

      “Mina, you’re beautiful.” His voice was reverent.

      Jasmine lifted her head and found herself looking at her image in the mirror, her legs spread apart, Tariq’s thigh holding her up. Too full of pleasure to blush, she raised her head and met his eyes. “Thank you.”

      Tariq shuddered, almost undone by her surrender. “I haven’t finished yet.”

      The gown whispered down her lovely legs as he released it. Her fever-bright eyes watched him untie the laces. He took his time, enjoying the culmination of years of erotic dreams. When she moved, he felt the faint shivers that rocked her. Pleased, he flexed his thigh against her sweet heat, knowing it would send shards of pleasure rocketing through her.

      “Tariq, don’t tease.” She tilted her head toward him.

      He dropped a kiss on her lips, enchanted by the feminine complaint. “But you are so teasable.” He finished with the ribbons and the gown gaped open, baring her breasts. His arousal became almost painful in its intensity, at the sight of a reality that outstripped his every fantasy. Closing one hand around the taut flesh, he squeezed gently.

      Mina’s eyes drifted shut and she arched into his touch. He nudged her hips, needing her to feel him, to understand this claiming. This branding. He wanted to mark her so deeply that she’d never think of walking away from him again. The urge was primitive and uncivilized, but when it came to this woman, his emotions had never been polite or bland.

      Opening her eyes, she smiled at him in the mirror, a smile full of newly realized feminine power, and then began to move her body up and down. The slow dance was an unmerciful tease, but the feel of her was indescribable.

      He growled in warning. “Witch.”

      “Tease,” she accused.

      He started to fondle her breast again, rubbing her nipple between his fingertips. She was so exquisitely sensitive, it was a temptation he couldn’t resist. “Perhaps,” he agreed, “but I’m also bigger than you.”

      Before Jasmine could take another breath, Tariq lifted the gown and tugged it over her head. Her arms came up of their own volition, her mind unable to defy the compulsion. She heard him throw the garment aside at the same time he withdrew his thigh from between hers. Only his arm around her waist kept her upright.

      Jasmine pushed aside the hair in her face and gasped at the sight of her naked body displayed so openly for him.

      “You are mine, Jasmine.”

      This time, the blatant possessiveness of his words didn’t scare her. No man could touch a woman as tenderly as Tariq was touching her if he only saw her as a possession. Somehow, she had to reach the man she knew existed behind the mask.

      She’d hurt Tariq more than she could’ve imagined when she’d ended their relationship. Now she had to love him so much that he would never doubt her again. Her panther had to trust in her loyalty before he’d allow himself to trust in her heart. And he would, because she had no intention of giving up. She couldn’t allow herself to think that there was no hope of winning him back. That was a nightmare she couldn’t face.

      His eyes met hers in the mirror, daring her to deny him. Instead of answering the silent challenge, she took a deep breath and said, “I want another ride.”

      Four

      Tariq’s arm tightened convulsively around her waist and the fire in his eyes blazed out of control. “No, this time I will ride.” He turned her in his arms and picked her up without effort. “A long, slow ride. You can have another turn later.” A hard kiss on her lips sealed the rough promise.

      He laid her on the sheets after pushing aside the blanket. For the first time, Jasmine saw him completely naked. He was big. She hadn’t thought about just how much bigger than her he was, until that moment.

      His eyes met hers and she knew he understood her apprehension. “I won’t hurt you, Mina.” He moved onto the bed and covered her body with his own. The heavy weight of him was like a full-body caress, a feast for her senses.

      “You always call me Mina when you want to get your own way.” She spread her thighs for him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

      Tariq rewarded her trust by slipping his hands under her waist and cupping her buttocks. “I’ll always get my way from now on.” His statement was uncompromising, as was the blunt tip of his erection against her.

      Then he kissed her, his tongue mimicking the ultimate sensual act. Jasmine knew she was ready; she’d felt herself slick and moist against his thigh. She knew it, but it took his kiss on her breast, his huskily uttered, “I’ll take care of you, Mina,” to make her believe.

      “Now,” she whispered.

      He gripped her hips and pushed. At the same time, he captured one strawberry-pink nipple into his mouth and suckled. Hard. Jasmine screamed and bucked under the onslaught of feeling, inadvertently easing his way. He surged inside her, tearing through the thin membrane that had protected her innocence. She gasped, her body taut.

      “Mina?” He was frozen above her.

      She dug her fingernails into his shoulders. “A long, slow ride,” she reminded him in a breathless murmur, still adjusting to the feel of his heat inside her.

      Three torturously slow strokes later, she was begging him to go faster.

      “You are too impatient,” he reprimanded her, but his body glistened with sweat and she could feel him trembling with the effort to hold back.

      She tightened her legs around him and drew her nails down his back. His eyes flashed as his control fractured and then he slammed into her. Jasmine bit his shoulder when her desire reached a crescendo, and then she felt herself explode for the second time that night. Above her, Tariq went rigid as his own climax roared through him.

      His body was heavy when he collapsed on top of her, but she was so exhausted she couldn’t move. Instead, she nestled her face in the crook of