Sheikh's Revenge

“You love me?”

“I did it wrong, and I should have explained why I really wanted Clayton taken down. Damn it, Addison, I should have treated you like an equal, and if I could do it over again I would and—”

“I think rambling is my style,” she said, kissing him, her tongue hesitant but soft against his own.

He blinked, completely surprised that she was offering him this, especially after he’d fucked up so badly. “I don’t understand.”

“We both lied and it made a mess, but you saved me when it mattered. I missed you so very much, Zahir, and I want to fix this…fix us.”

He grinned back at her, hardly believing that this was happening. “Then how can I fix this for you?”

“Can you make love to me?” she asked. “Please, that’s all I need.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Definitely. I don’t want anyone else’s touch on me, not even the memory of it. I only want you.”

That was all he needed. Zahir pi

cked her up in a bridal carry and walked her over to the bed. She was only in a spare T-shirt of his and her own panties, something so simple. But somehow all that plain cotton was driving him wild.

He started by kissing her throat, grazing his teeth lightly over the skin on the side of her neck so that he could hear her moan, make her writhe beneath him. Then he coaxed her to sit up long enough for her to slip the shirt off, revealing the dusky pink of her perfect nipples. Leaning down, he wrapped his mouth around her right areola, suckling at her nipple, feeling his own erection harden even as her nipple did, as it responded so readily to his ministrations.

She mewled beneath him. She was his kitten once more as he moved his mouth lower, let his tongue trace secret patterns of want over the flesh of her stomach. Zahir stopped at her belly button and dipped his tongue into that as well, swirling inside of the hole there, teasing her.

“Please, Zahir, I don’t want to wait anymore. These weeks have been agony.”

He nodded and, for once, forewent the familiar foil package in his nightstand. He wanted to be connected to her, to feel her fully with nothing between them. Reaching down, he slipped off her panties and ran his hands over the soft curls at the apex of her thighs. So red and appealing, just like her longer locks.

“Are you ready?” he said, pressing his manhood against her hidden lips.

She nodded and bit her lip. “You know that I am.”

“Well, kitten, I can’t disappoint you, can I?” he said, slipping inside of her, hissing at the heat of her surrounding him.

Rocking his hips against hers, he thrust deeply into her core, even as his nerves were alight. He felt every bit of frustration and anger and extreme emotion convert to passion in his body, in his blood. All the horrible agony of the last few weeks faded away as he found his pleasure in her.

Addison was responding too, her fingernails digging deeply into the skin of his back and her mouth offering him kisses against his neck and the line of his jaw. She moaned beneath him, egging him on, until he found her most sensitive spot. Then he was lost to the ecstasy, to moving against her, and to a world where the only things that existed were their joined bodies, their synchronized breathing, and the warmth of her channel around him. He came first, shooting his seed deeply inside of her, hoping selfishly that one day soon she’d be heavy with his child. It didn’t take long for her to shatter against him and to follow him down into the euphoria that was drowning them both.

After they were done, he gathered her to his chest and kissed her forehead and then her lips, promising her everything with his mouth before he spoke again.

“I’ll protect you always, kitten. Never forget that.”

“I don’t think I could,” she said honestly. “I love you, my sheikh.”

“I love you too, kitten, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”

She looked up at him, blue eyes wet with unshed tears. “Do you mean that?”

“I didn’t mean to be so informal about it, but yes, I do. I’ll take you out and do everything the right way.”

She chuckled. “We never do anything the right way, just the backassward way.”

He nodded. “Fair enough, but, Miss Morgan, will you marry me?” Her kiss wasn’t exactly a yes, so even after their tongues tangled and dueled for what felt like hours, Zahir was still waiting for her response. “So is that a ‘yes?’”

“It’s an ‘always and forever,’” she replied, kissing him again.

Forever.