She gazed at him with wild, vague eyes. “I don’t know—please, help me.”
He closed his mouth over hers again, possessing her, the symbolic thrusting of his tongue driving him wild with his own need. He wanted to claim her with his mouth, but something held him back. There was a disturbing innocence about her that he did not understand, and he sensed that she would draw away from him were he to caress her as he wished to. He deepened the pressure of his finger, and saw a darkening passion in her eyes, felt her hips urgent against him.
“Do you want me to give you release, Arabella?”
“I feel as though I am dying.” He lifted his fingers an instant and she cried out as though in pain. She felt her body as liquid, molten sensation, and when he began to caress and stroke her again, she could not control the shimmering surges of pleasure that ripped through her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, tangled in his thick hair. Then she was beyond herself.
Kamal felt the intensity of her climax, and he kissed her, smothering her cries of pleasure in his mouth. He raised his head and she arched upward, screaming.
“Arabella,” he whispered. “I can’t wait any longer.” He thrust his finger deeply into her, easing her for his entrance. She was so tight, so very small. He felt her muscles convulse, and he fought for control as he reared over her. He felt her tense at his probing finger, and realized vaguely that he was hurting her. But that was not possible. Then suddenly his finger butted against her maidenhead.
He froze, all feeling suspended. Very carefully he withdrew his finger and eased himself down on top of her. He cupped her face between his hands. “Arabella, look at me.”
She opened her eyes and he saw her tears.
He drew a deep breath. Many things became clear to him in that instant. She was offering herself to him because of her parents, not because she wanted to pleasure herself with another man. No wonder her fear and embarrassment at seeing him naked, at feeling his man’s body against hers.
He cursed in Arabic, and rolled off her, over onto his back, trying to still the raging need of his body.
“You are a virgin, damn you.”
She smiled sadly at the frustration of his voice. Slowly she placed her hand on his chest and felt the pounding of his heart.
“Don’t touch me, if you wish to remain a virgin.”
Her hand stilled. If he didn’t take her, she would have nothing to bargain with. She had lost her innocence all because he hadn’t believed her. And, she knew, it was too late now; he had shattered her, had plunged her into the depths of feelings that she had never known existed. The unbelievable passion she had felt was fading, but she knew she had given him nothing. His pleasure was found, she assumed, in thrusting himself into her. Slowly, as if she were watching someone else, she stroked her hand down his chest to his belly. She felt him shuddering, felt his eyes upon her face.
“Arabella?”
She knew he was asking her, knew that he wouldn?
??t force her.
“Please, Kamal.” She leaned over him and kissed him on his mouth. Her fingers found him, and tentatively, innocently, she touched him. The feel of him both alarmed and excited her. A man, so different from her.
He lurched up and tossed her onto her back. She felt her thighs parted, felt him probing against her. She stiffened, waiting for the pain. Suddenly he seemed to gain control of himself. He entered her slowly, then stopped.
“I will try not to hurt you.”
He paused, watching her closely. When her eyes cleared, he gently eased more deeply into her until he was pressing against her maidenhead. “Arabella.” His voice was a sharp command and she looked deep into his eyes.
He thrust forward suddenly, tearing through the thin barrier. She screamed and tried to throw him off her. Her fingernails digging into his arms brought him a measure of reason. “Hush, hold still. We will wait a moment until you become used to me and there is no more pain.”
He closed his eyes, not wanting her to see the naked feelings in his. He felt her arms about his neck and she began to relax beneath him. She had absorbed the sensation of him. Slowly he eased more deeply. She tensed in pain, and he stilled immediately, waiting.
“Do you know how you feel to me, Arabella? How warm you are? How tightly you are holding me inside you?”
“The way I feel—it pleases you?” She moved slightly beneath him, inadvertently drawing him deeper inside her.
“I cannot,” he gasped. He groaned, throwing his head back, and Arabella felt her body explode in pain as he thrust his full length into her. He was surging inside her, beyond himself. Vaguely, through the pain, she realized that if he felt as she had at the height of her pleasure, he would not, could not stop himself. She hugged him to her, biting her lips to keep the cries to herself. She felt him suddenly tense over her; then she felt him flooding her, filling her with his seed.
His head was beside hers on the pillow. She could feel the fierce pounding of his heart against her breast. The tremors that had shaken his body began to subside and he quieted. It suddenly occured to her that she now understood passion. She felt him raise himself slowly on his elbows and gaze down into her face.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
She studied his face. “The first part was nice. But you are so large. I didn’t like the pain.”
“Arabella, the next time I enter you, there will be no pain. All will be pleasure, you will see.”