The Sheikh's Bartered Bride

When he would have protested, she waved him silent.

"When you accept this gold," she said, indicating the heavily weighted headdress, "I am buying you. It makes us even."

She prayed he would understand and not make fun of her or remind her that his own grandfather had provided the dowry.

He did neither. He looked at the gold and then back at her face. "This is important to you? That we are even?"

"Yes."

"And when I accept your dowry, it is so?"

She nodded.

His eyes darkened with comprehension and he put his hand out to receive the gold. "May you find as much contentment with the exchange as I have done."

He meant as he had done before she found out the truth, but she didn't correct him. She wanted this night to be free of the weight of her father's bartered deal or even Hakim's cultural expectations of such a marriage. She wanted to make love on a level playing field.

She released the headdress into his hands.

Then she untied the gold belt around her hips, letting it fall to the woven rug beneath her feet.

Hakim went completely still, his black eyes fixed on her with almost frightening intensity.

She took advantage of his stillness to remove her dress and the garment under it, letting both glide down her body to pool around her feet. She wasn't wearing a bra and the way his gaze locked onto her naked torso told her he appreciated that fact.

Her nipples, which had already peaked in anticipation of her husband's touch, puckered into firmer rigidity under the heat of his look, stinging with the need to have his mouth on them. Her unfettered breasts swelled, making her skin feel tight and sensitive while other intimate tissues became inflamed, pulses of anticipatory pleasure vibrating trough them.

She walked toward him, the tiny silver bells on her necklace and anklets jingling with each step, her breasts swaying in a way that should have made her blush. For the first time, it didn't. It only increased her sense of feminine power because his eyes locked onto that swaying movement and he began to breathe faster.

When she reached her husband, she pushed his abaya off his shoulders. "Let me undress you."

He allowed her to remove his head covering and egal.

She let her fingers run through his thick, but short curling hair, reveling in the silky feel against her skin. Reveling also in her right to touch him in this way, to see him as no other woman in Jawhar had the right to see him.

He helped her remove his white tunic, the muscles of his chest rippling as he stretched to take it off.

The flat brown disks of his male nipples drew her attention and her desire. She brushed her fingers over them, feeling her own pleasure as they responded immediately to her touch.

"Yes. Touch me. Show me you desire me as I desire you."

His words sent excitement arcing through her and a determination to do as he said, to show her desire. She leaned forward and licked each nipple, then swirled her tongue around them, tasting the saltiness of his skin, smelling the masculine scent of his body.

His hands clamped on either side of her head. "The sultry air of the desert has turned you into a temptress."

She smiled and took the small, hard nipple into her mouth, sucking on it until he crushed her body to his with an agonized groan. She wiggled against him until her fingers could reach the drawstring on his loose fitting white pants. She tugged at it and it came undone so that the only thing holding them up was the way her body was pressed so tightly against his.

Tilting her head back, her eyes met his. "Take them off."

"You think because you have bought me, you can order me like a slave?" The warm humor in his eyes told her he was joking and not offended.

She gave him her best haughty look. "Of course."

His brows rose, but then they lowered and his look became predatory. "Then you are my slave also."

She found herself swallowing nervously. The game was taking a turn she hadn't expected. "Yes."

He said nothing, but he let her go to step back and push his pants down his thighs. Sleek satin hardness sprang up to greet her.

Remembering the pleasure she felt when he was inside her was exciting her.

"Take off your last covering." The way he said it sent shivers of desire and trepidation down her limbs.

All of a sudden it felt as if the small bit of lace was indeed her last covering, or protection, against him.

But she didn't need protection against him. Not now. She wanted what was about to happen. Very much.

She pushed the scrap of fabric down her thighs, exposing damp blonde curls.

"Come to me."

She took the step forward that separated them, stopping so close to him that the tip of his manhood brushed the soft skin of her stomach.

He reached down, grabbed her hand and led it to the rigid shaft between them. "Touch me."