Page 38 of The Lady and the Desert Scoundrel

At that moment, Aziz walked away. Tariq appeared at the door and extended his hand to her. “Just a little change of plans, Lady Lucinda.” A scornful smile in his appetizing lips.

“How dare you do this?” She hissed, her temper flaring. “Where is my driver?”

“We gave him a little respite for the day and Aziz will park your carriage wherever you were heading to, so anyone of import will see it.” Since she hadn’t moved, he came in the enclosed space.

Livid crimson flooded her cheeks at his manipulative act, and she ostensibly crossed her arms, unmovable. “I’m not staying here. I’m going to Oxford Street, so close the door and get lost!” She cared not he didn’t like her giving him orders.

The stubborn, wilful woman liked this foreplay, didn’t she, Tariq thought exasperated. “You’ll do as I wish!” Their eyes met and battled, neither willing to give in to the other. “You have five seconds to come down or I’ll go get you!”

“Not even in five days.” She said in between teeth.

“Five, four, three.” The more she resisted, the more aroused he got.

She lifted her chin and remained seated. Her heart pounded full force. She wanted to come down and walk to his house, his arms. But his arrogance rocketed sky high if he imagined he might just take her carriage and bring her here. “Ok, I see you can count backwards.” In a bored voice, she put on a show of not caring what came next.

“Two, one.” He took her hand and made her come out of the bloody carriage and inside the house, holding her, so that she wouldn’t leave. He didn’t need to be brusque, her muscles had already given in to the force of his attraction and her body followed to him against her own will.

He motioned to Aziz, who climbed up the carriage and started driving away. The helper made a face signalling his distrust on a rebel woman not worth lingering on in the least. Even less one that could shoot. He finally shrugged and followed his orders.

Lucinda’s blood boiled with a mix of anger and arousal, the later making her feel pliant in his arms. “How many times will I have to tell you that we must stop this?” Her fists clenched on his chest, bunching his shirt, as he struggled to close the door behind her, lest they be seen. “Stop abducting me!” She commanded to his further irritation.

He stared hard at her with his fiery eyes. “And how many times will I have to tell you that I’ll continue seeing you?” His edgy velvety voice almost undoing her. “And this is not an abduction, unfortunately! You’ll go back to your family’s house in due time.” Unfortunately again, he concluded.

He caught her in his arms and took her to his bedroom upstairs, resisting her fierce thrashing. Damn woman! Upstairs, he kicked the door shut, his flesh so hard in his breeches he wanted to take her against the door itself. Her feet found the floor though, and walked.

The decoration in dark blue shades utterly masculine. The fire glowed in the fireplace, the curtains drawn; a dim intimate atmosphere involved them.

She strode, pounding feet, to the fireplace and turned pepper-mint green eyes darting vexation at him. Vexation and greediness. Her want for him incontestable.

Unable to wait a second longer, he literally pounced at her, laced her narrow waist and his mouth plundered hers in a searing kiss. Taken by surprise, her hands rested on his muscled chest over his open-necked shirt; her body catching fire, their tongues sparring thirsty. She moaned, her head bending back to meet his lips, and her hands found his sleek obsidian hair, they’d missed so much. She devolved kiss for steamy kiss, devouring him as much as he devoured her.

There. That’s his woman, on fire for him.

His hand flew to her hair, plucking each pin, scattering them on the carpet as her dried-dates tresses tumbled to her waist. He rolled her soft strands of hair around his fist and gently made her head bend lower backwards. “Say you don’t want me, if you have the courage, Lucinda.” He groaned against her swollen lips.

She had neither the courage, nor the will. Or the strength, for that matter. He body became a complacent mass of yearning against his strong one. Her sole answer was to tug his shirt out of his breeches as her hands sneaked under it in search of his warm taut skin.

“Just as I

thought.” He murmured hotly, as his deft fingers unbuttoned her corset-less dress and it bunched around her booted ankles. Her chemise followed and he lifted her, being circled by her booted legs. With her in his arms, they fell on his bed locked in a febrile embrace.

He tore her drawers impatiently, as her anxious hands opened his breeches’ fly. His fingers tested her, provoked her. She was readier than he, and they breathed short and quick. He found his home in her, hot and wet, as he drove long, deep and hungry. Her head fell back and she moaned and arched with the melting pleasure of it. They moved raw, savage, instinctive.

There was something erotic about her being completely naked and still wearing her boots, he observed, as he lifted his head to look at her writhing in pleasure. The scent of her womanly skin against his half-clothed body enticed him.

They were both on the edge. It wouldn’t last nearly as long as they’d like. She moved towards him, taking him in desperately; he thrust hard and fast, blind with hunger for her. Her booted legs tightened their circle around his semi-clothed body, he held her under her back, head dipped in the curve of her neck, in total lack of control. He thrust, she groaned; he thrust, she opened more for him; he drove deeper, she tied him to her with her arms; he lunged, she clawed his shirt; he grunted, she cried her pleasure, gripping him repeatedly. He thrust the deepest and let go of all he had as he moved more and more until completely emptied and spent.

He fell on her, breeches half lowered, shirt bunched up, bare feet, her booted feet on the back of his legs. She held him fully cradled in her body as they had no forces to speak or anything else. They drifted into a doze, minds blown, desire sated.

Tariq opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her. She was watching him attentive. “I’m hurting you.” He said in a lazy voice.

“No, it’s alright.” She answered, still holding him.

But he disentangled from her delicately and moved to untie her boots one at a time. As if he undressed her, denuding every inch as a revelation. As one boot slid from her ankle, his lips followed it to her foot. Such a sensuous caress awoke her completely. He repeated the process with the other boot, his stubble tickling her pale fine skin.

She repaid in kind as she undressed his shirt, grazing her lips throughout his muscled chest, revelling in the texture of his hair-dusted warm skin. His breeches came off as she caressed his awakening manhood at her leisure. Fooling around a bit was just as fine.

Tariq wished her to lie back against him and that’s what happened, as her hair spread everywhere on his bed.

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