"No," she whispered then, an echo of the hundred denials she had given him the night before.

"Yes," Jafar contradicted pleasantly. "I want to kiss you here . . . and here . . . I want to ravish you with pleasure . . ."

Shifting his weight, he rolled toward her, pinning her beneath him, gently pressing her down. Alysson felt his masculine hardness, rigid and needing, felt the warm, rough man-thigh that separated hers.

"No!" she protested again, more frantically, more forcefully this time.

"No? Is that all you can say, obstinate one?"

"Damn you . . ."

He chuckled softly. "At least that is an improvement." Despite her protests, though, his mouth lowered to nuzzle her right nipple.

Alysson quivered. How could she fight him when he overwhelmed her this way? He emanated a raw sensuality that was impossible to fight or resist. She felt like a fool for lying here desiring him, and yet she was powerless to do more than demand weakly, "Let me up!"

"Not yet," Jafar murmured as he feasted on her sweet flesh. "Not until you give me what I want."

Frantically Alysson squeezed her hands between their bodies and gripped Jafar's shoulders, pushing with all her strength. To her surprise, she succeeded in making him lift his head. "What more could you possibly want from me?" she cried, panting from the exertion. "You took everything last night."

"Not everything." His mouth curved in an amused smile as he reached up to spread her gleaming chestnut hair over the pillows. "Not nearly everything."

Her gaze dropping, Alysson stared at his hard, beautiful mouth. Did he expect her to kiss him? Was that what he wanted?

"I will allow you up," Jafar said lazily, "but first I expect a polite greeting."

"Go to the devil!"

He raised his hand to catch her chin with his fingers. "That will not suffice, my sweet tigress. A courteous good morning is what I wish from you."

Alysson fumed. This was another of his lessons in obedience, she was certain. "Or what? If I refuse, what will you do?"

"Then I will keep you here in my bed. I can think of a dozen satisfying ways to pass the time.''

All of which left her at a vast disadvantage, Alysson thought with barely repressed rancor. "Good morning, then," she said through gritted teeth.

"Politely, ma belle. Not as if you would like to carve out my heart with the dagger you stole."

He waited, his mouth poised above hers, while she debated defying him. But she knew she would lose this battle, too. Alysson sighed in disgust. "Good morning," she murmured, succeeding in keeping the fury out of her voice.

With an approving smile, Jafar bent to kiss her. Alysson tried to avert her face, but his mouth covered hers, warm and coaxing. When still she resisted, he nipped her bottom lip.

"Don't!"

A laugh, soft, indulgent, was his reply. But he rolled away, allowing her to scramble to her feet. Frantically,

Alysson reached for her clothes. She was pulling on her chemise when Jafar spoke again.

"Last night you were surprised and frightened by the pleasures that a woman can feel, but you will grow accustomed to them—and to me."

"I will not!" Alysson retorted stiffly.

"You will. And you will lose your anger at yourself, as well."

"I am not angry at myself! It's you—"

"You are, chérie. You are angry because you submitted to me so easily. Your entire posture speaks most eloquently of injured pride."

It was all Alysson could do to repress a retort. She gritted her teeth as she dragged a tunic of white cotton on over her head, entertaining satisfying thoughts about what it would be like to bring this insufferable Berber baron to his knees. He was so arrogant, so secure in his practiced power with women—

Tags: Nicole Jordan Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net