Page 9 of Seduced By the Sheikh

“You, habibti, are a surprise,” he said, his voice gravely.

Her eyes widened and she blushed. Her first kiss and she’d messed things up somehow. “What did I do wrong?” she asked.

He smiled, shook his head, and then laughed when he realized she was serious. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He brushed his lips against her neck, breathing her in as if she were a rare blossom. “It was all very… right.”

“Then why am I a surprise?”

“Because, beneath that cool, polished exterior beats the heart of a passionate woman.”

She blinked, wondering if he was teasing her. No one had ever called her passionate before, but then she’d never been kissed by anyone before, and it had certainly affected her in a way she’d never imagined.

Before she could remonstrate, he took her hand. “Come, habibti, we should take this inside. These are our private gardens but I trust no one.”

She didn’t want to think about what ‘this’ was that they’d be taking inside. But if it was anything like the kiss—anything like that connection she’d felt with him—then she wanted more. She nodded and let him lead her through the gardens and into their apartment. Once inside, he went to turn on the light but she stopped him, placing her hand over his, suddenly shy.

“It’s light enough with the starlight and moonlight, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” he said, pulling off his tie and tossing it to one side. His jacket swiftly followed. He looked at her with an urgency which took her breath away, and sent a frisson of fear down her spine.

She shot him a brief smile. “So this is your bedroom,” she said, stating the obvious, but needing to bring her nerves under control and that look of his which suggested he was about to devour something he was greatly looking forward to.

He sighed and closed his eyes briefly as she walked past him.

“It is,” he said, before turning to face her. “Does it meet with your approval?”

His warm smile both reassured her and heated her, reducing the cool licks of fear to nothing.

She smiled back. “Very much so.” She looked around. “Furnished simply but with the best. I like it.” She trailed her hand up the four-poster, its solid heft necessary to support the extravagant swathes of richly colored and patterned fabric. She looked back at him and saw his dark eyes were watching her thumb and forefinger move up the pole. She dropped her hand and he turned his intense gaze back to her. She swallowed, wondering what on earth was going to happen next, and not caring for once in her life. Her breathing was coming harder again, as his gaze dropped to her breasts. She’d never felt so excited, never wanted anything or anybody so much, in her life.

He took one step and then another towards her, inhaled a long, ragged breath and nodded, as if trying to slow himself down.

“This,” he said, running his finger along the side of her neck, before catching the edge of her dress, “is most,” he said, tugging a little at the collar, “unexpected.”

“You said that before.” She smiled. This time she was feeling more confident. “Tell me what it is that’s so unexpected, and I’ll do it again. If you like it, that is.”

“Oh, I like it. But if I tell you it will disappear like mist in the sunshine. No, you have nothing to worry about, Soraiya, because I sense you are being entirely natural. Just keep being you.”

“Keep being me…” She trailed off on a sigh as he kissed her neck and all her thoughts fled.

“Turn around,” he said and she did as he asked, as if under a spell. He undid the zip which the thoughtful designer had hidden under a myriad of tiny seed-pearl buttons, and it fell open. Before it could expose her bra, she held it tight against her, feeling the heat suffuse her cheeks, as embarrassment overcame desire.

He turned her to face him, her hands still clamping the dress against her breasts. He looked down, then up at her. She could see the flicker of a racing pulse in his neck. It appeared to be the only sign that he was aroused. But it seemed he had that tight in check.

“Will you allow me to take your dress off? By all means keep on your underwear if you wish. But I would love to see you. Your figure is outstanding.”

She couldn’t have said whether it was his description of her figure as outstanding or the kiss which he followed it up with, this time lower, pressing against the mound of her breast, but the embarrassment fell as quickly as the dress.

She could have sworn she felt his eyes graze over her breasts which heaved above the low-cut bra. He kissed the top of each breast and then raked his finger nails down the sides of her stomach, catching briefly on her panties before continuing on to her thighs. Here, he stopped, as he smoothed his hands around her voluptuous curves. She could see the effect on him immediately. She hadn’t noticed before because she hadn’t looked, but now his arousal was clearly visible.

“Your figure is sensational,” he said, bringing her closer to him as he put his hands around her waist. He kissed her again and this time she really opened up to him, letting his tongue caress and slide against hers. It seemed positively indecent. Even more daring than standing before him in her underwear. And it sent the most delicious strokes of desire coursing through her, as if he were licking her inside, where she melted.

He pulled away too soon. “Remember,” he said, as she instinctively pressed her hips to his, “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. If I go too far, simply ask me to stop.”

She was intensely relieved but also curious. She’d read as much as she could to prepare for this moment but she’d never read anything about a husband stopping before they’d had sex. She nodded.

He skimmed his finger under the top of her bra. “May I?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, snaking her hands around his neck as, with one very practised flick, he undid her bra and held out his hands into which her breasts spilled. It felt decadent, it felt naughty, and it also felt extremely nice. Then he caressed her breasts, before moving over her needy nipples.

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