Page 319 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

Again, she felt it, the brittle snap of resistance that moved through him as he broke free of whatever tethers his iron-clad will was trying to bind him in. He rose over her, every hard line of muscle in his body bunching and rippling as he moved.

He’d said he wasn’t gentle.

Still not asking him to be, she locked her arms and legs around him, riding the storm of his hard rocking. The whole bed shook under the fury of his thrusts. Gripping him in the vise of her thighs, she shook. She could have spent the night losing herself in his shows of control—the hand over her mouth, the utterly exposed position he forced her into as he pumped into her—but the end came way too soon. It ripped into her from out of nowhere, starting in her pussy and womb, then shuddering through all the rest of her, one taut muscle at a time. She arched into his pounding, her hips bucking frantically all on their own. She shouted into the hand he clamped down hard over her mouth.

“Shit.”

A warm, wet jet of spurting shot over her thigh and across her stomach as Christian shoved off her, rolling right off the end of the bed not half a second before the door to her room slammed open, and both armed men from the hall barged in. They stopped when they saw her naked on the bed.

Vaulting upright with a shriek, Aliya grabbed at enough blankets to cover herself, hopefully before they saw the ropy line of sperm splattered across her belly.

“Masturbation!” she screamed. Grabbing a pillow, she threw it at them.

Grabbing the arm of his companion, one soldier retreated out of the room, pulling the other after him. They hastily closed the door again.

Scrambling off the floor, Christian attacked her, stealing kiss after hungry kiss from her lips, her shoulders, her breasts, while yanking up the pants he’d never removed and fastening them once more around his lean hips.

From out in the hall, a distant voice shouted down to them. “Where the hell is Christian Reid?”

Snatching his belt off the bed, he chuckled before stealing one last parting kiss from her ready lips. He grabbed his shoes and shirt off the floor on his way back out the way he’d come. Throwing off the blankets, she ran to the bathroom, drawing a hot bath with plenty of soapy bubbles to scent her and wash away all trace of him.

The bedspread… was there evidence left on that?

She would have run to check while the water ran, except she heard the main door to her quarters open again, and purposeful footsteps strode in.

“Search it,” Fariq said so coldly, she almost froze right there on the bathroom floor tiles.

Footsteps were striding right toward her closed bathroom door.

Whipping around, Aliya jumped into the tub, tucking herself down into the faintly too-hot water, under as much of the suds as she could splash up over herself.

“I’m in here!” she cried, hurriedly scrubbing her belly and between her legs as the door handle jostled. “Don’t come in! Don’t?—”

Fariq stalked in, sweeping the spacious bathroom with a dark glare to make sure it was empty before that glare came to settle directly on her.

Arms folded over her breasts, she ducked that much farther under the floating bubbles.

“I-I-I said…”

“Masturbation,” he returned, coming in far enough to close the bathroom door behind him. “Yes, so I heard.”

In spite of the hot water, her body ran cold as he approached her. Looking her over from head to the twin islands of her knees, poking up above the blanket of soap bubbles, he bent and shut off the water, condemning the bathroom to instant silence, broken only by the crackle of hundreds of tiny bubbles popping and their breathing. She had to fight to keep hers even as the slow seething of his own washed over her, raising every fine hair to stand at dreaded attention under his grim stare.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered.

He stared at her, his face a stony mask, saying nothing, waiting.

“I-I shouldn’t h-have…”

“It was my fault,” Fariq said, startling her. “The changes in your body have obviously awakened you in ways that are not unexpected, but still, my dear Aliya, that was entirely inappropriate. Your future husband will require that you be a virgin and will want to instruct you in the ways of pleasuring him.”

“What about my pleasure?” she asked quietly.

“Your pleasure, if any, will be given by your husband. You don’t touch yourself without my permission,” he continued, temper spiking hotly. It was rare when he showed his anger to her. Frozen in her bath, she hugged herself, her mouth gaping as he said, “Your body is not your own. Your orgasms, if he allows them, are not your own. Ladies do not touch themselves. Whores do. Are you a whore, Aliya, my love? Do you want me to treat you that way? To have you service my men? To take you myself?”

“No!” She shook her head, hearing his horrible edicts, knowing she shouldn’t be surprised, yet gut-punched by the raw, unmistakable meaning behind each one.

“You will remain chaste and pure,” he rasped, abruptly dropping to sit on the edge of her tub. He grabbed her wrist, prying one arm out of its shielding hug. “Remove your hands. I wish to see what will be offered to the right man. Move them,” he ordered, and when she resisted bellowed, “You donottell me no!”

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