His Christmas Conquest. Maisey Yates

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СКАЧАТЬ not cover yourself, Livvy,’ he instructed softly. ‘Your body is very beautiful. It is small and neat, yet strong and supple. It pleases me very much and I wish to look at it.’

      She kept her hands exactly where they were, even though his words were making her nipples peak against her fingers. ‘You’re making me feel like an object.’

      ‘Not an object,’ he demurred, reaching up and pulling her down into his arms, so that her flesh met the comforting warmth of his. He pushed the mussed hair away from her face and used the edge of his thumb to trace the outline of her lips. ‘Not even a subject, since I do not rule over you. So stop looking at me with those anxious eyes and relax, because I am going to give you pleasure such as you have never dreamed of.’

      ‘But I don’t have a clue what to do,’ she whispered.

      ‘And that,’ he said unevenly, ‘is part of your attraction.’

      Only part of it, she wondered dazedly as his mouth came down towards her. What was the other part?

      But his kiss was powerful enough to send any last doubts skittering from her mind, and the slow caress of his lips made further deliberations impossible. All she could think about was what he was doing. He was holding her close—so close—making her feel as if every cell in her body were sensitive to each seeking caress.

      At first his touch wasn’t overtly sexual. The hands that were cupping her face seemed more interested in exploring the thickness of her hair and the outline of her face. And when that innocent exploration made her relax, he started stroking his hands down the sides of her body—until she was moving restlessly against him.

      He must have known that her impatience was growing, but he paid no attention to her squirming movements. He just took his time—drawing out the exquisite torture as his fingers slowly acquainted themselves with her skin. Inch by tantalising inch, he touched her. First her breasts and then her ribcage and the undulation of her waist. She held her breath as he turned his attention to her belly and teased her by brushing his fingers farther down to delve inside the soft fuzz of hair. Yet his hawklike features remained impassive even though she could feel the tension building in his powerful body. She could sense his restraint—as if he was battling his own desire in order to feed hers.

      ‘Saladin,’ she breathed, looking into his eyes to find herself ensnared by a smoky black gaze.

      ‘Want me?’ His thumb brushed against the moist and engorged bud hidden by the soft curls, and she let out a little murmur of assent as she nodded.

      ‘I...I think so.’

      ‘I think so, too,’ he said, his voice suddenly growing harsh.

      He moved over her, his hardness nudging against her wet heat as she opened her legs for him with an instinct that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her. She became aware of so many things—his weight and his strength and the subtle scent of sandalwood and salt that clung to his skin.

      ‘Look at me,’ he urged softly.

      Until he spoke, she hadn’t even realised her eyes had closed again. She let the lids flutter open to meet his heated gaze as he made that first thrust deep inside her—a long, slow thrust that made her gasp and instantly he stilled, his eyes narrowing.

      ‘It hurts?’

      Breathlessly, she shook her head. ‘Not really. It just feels...’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Big.’

      Saladin smiled—he couldn’t help himself. But her unintentional boost to his masculine ego only increased his hunger—if that was possible—and it was a moment before he could trust himself to move again. Already he felt close to a tipping point that had been reached the moment he had entered her. He could feel her flesh enclosing him as sweetly as an oyster clamped its shell around the glistening pearl. She was so tight. So wet. So...unexpected. But he reined back his sudden urgent desire to ride her as fiercely as he would ride one of his horses. Because this was her first time, he reminded himself. This was the touchstone by which she would measure all the men who would follow. And he must make it a good experience—the very best experience—for all kinds of reasons.

      So he concentrated on kissing and fondling her. On doing all the things that women liked best and on holding back his own desire. And even though his sexual hunger was at a high that was almost unendurable, it felt exquisite. Maybe because it was the first time in a long time that he had put a woman’s needs before his own. Usually he didn’t have to, because he prided himself on being able to make a woman orgasm within moments of touching her, but this was different. Virgins were different...

      The pain of memory shot through him like a dark streak of lightning and for a moment he screwed his eyes tightly shut, cursing the thoughts that crowded into his mind—and slamming down the barriers before they could take root there.

      He drew in a deep breath and began to objectify what was happening, in order to distract himself. He concentrated on Livvy’s reaction rather than his own—watching as her eyes grew dark and her cheeks flushed. He felt the tension in her fingers as they kneaded against his sweat-sheened back. He could feel the urgency in her thighs, which were digging hard against his hips, and the way she instinctively angled her pelvis to encourage him to go deeper. He tipped his head back as she covered his shoulder with a flurry of frantic little kisses that seemed to grow in crescendo as he drove her towards her climax.

      He knew when she was about to come. He could sense the change in her body—the unmistakable quiver of expectation and excitement edged with the sense of disbelief that heralded any orgasm. And that was when he kissed her again. Gripped her hips hard as he drove into her. Imprisoned her against his exquisitely aroused length as her back began to arch and he waited for the split second of stillness before she started spasming against his flesh. He thought she called out his name as he gave into his own release, which he could hold back no longer—his own pleasure increased by the sensation of her still quivering helplessly in his arms.

      It took him a long time to come down and, unusually, he stayed where he was for a long time—withdrawing only when he felt the returning stir of an erection. He rolled away from her, pulling the discarded blanket over her, unable to resist a glance at her flushed face and the bright, honey-coloured eyes, before her eyelids fluttered sleepily down. But for once he did not want sleep—something his body habitually demanded after sex, which helped emphasise the distance he craved and lessened the chances of being asked pointless questions about the possibility of a long-term relationship.

      For once he was wide awake and more alive than he could remember feeling in a long, long time. He wanted to hear what the feisty little redhead had to say about her first experience of sex, although he told himself that his interest was simply academic. He was not looking for praise because he knew how good he was—but he needed her to be satisfied with what had just happened. He needed to keep her sweet.

      Stroking a slow finger over one flushed breast, he smiled. ‘No need to ask whether you enjoyed that.’

      His murmured words dissolved the clouds of contentment that had settled on her and, with an effort, Livvy blinked herself awake. Her eyes felt so heavy, it was as if someone had crept in and placed two tiny pebbles on them while she hadn’t been looking. She met Saladin’s dark gaze. His skin was flushed and his eyes were smoky, yet he sounded more concerned with his own performance rating than with anything else. She told herself that his arrogance didn’t matter because nothing had felt this good in a long time—maybe ever—and СКАЧАТЬ