Desert Rogues Part 2 (61 page)

This time he did as she wanted. He swept inside with the purposeful intent of a man set on pleasing a woman. He circled her tongue with his own. He explored and danced and surged until she was breathless with wanting.

His hands moved from her hips to her back. One slipped around to her waist and she caught her breath in anticipation as he moved higher and higher. Closer until he at last cupped her breast in his long, lean fingers.

The pressure was unbearably perfect, she thought through a haze of desire. As his fingers brushed against her tight nipples, she withdrew from the kiss so she could focus completely on his touch. Her breathing increased. She looped her arms around his neck and held on as her knees began to give way.

He brought up his other hand so he could cup both breasts. The delicious torture make her shiver. He raised his head and looked into her eyes.

“You are more beautiful than the dawn,” he whispered. “I feel you respond to me. Can you deny what you want?”

She shook her head.

At that moment she had the sense she could disappear into his dark eyes and that it wouldn't be such a bad fate. Not if there were nights filled with this kind of attention. Not if he kept touching her.

She felt her body swelling in anticipation. Her panties dampened as flesh begged and wept for release.

He moved to the buttons on her shirt and quickly unfastened them. But he only went down to the waistband of her jeans and didn't bother pulling the shirt free. Which meant when he tugged the garment down her shoulders, he pinned her arms at her side.

She knew she could free herself with a quick jerk against the fabric, but for the moment, she felt oddly trapped. As if she were at his mercy. As if he could take her against her will.

Crazy, she told herself. Yet…oddly erotic.

He moved to the hook between her breasts and unfastened it. She watched as he slipped the bra away, exposing her skin to sun and air…and to his heated gaze.

He stared at her like a hungry man facing a last meal. Slowly he traced her curves, touching so lightly he almost tickled her. When he touched the tip of his finger against the very tip of her nipple, she felt the jolt clear down to her thighs.

She groaned. His breathing increased, then he bent low and drew her nipple into his mouth.

The combination of damp heat and gentle sucking nearly sent her to her knees. She struggled to free herself from her shirt so she could cling to him. The wanting grew. She didn't remember ever being this aroused before. She wasn't sure it was possible to need so much and stay conscious.

At last she was able to pull her shirt free of her jeans. She shrugged out of it and her bra, then clutched his head, holding him in place against her breasts.

“More,” she breathed as he circled with his tongue.

Tension filled her body. She felt herself getting closer and closer to her release. Passion spiraled out of control.

With her free hand, she tugged at his shirt. He straightened and pulled it off in one easy, graceful movement. Then he stood before her, bare-chested, his arousal clearly outlined in his dark slacks.

“Tell me you want me,” he demanded.

“How can you doubt it?”

“Say the words.”

She stared into his dark eyes and knew that there was no going back. She had to know what it felt like to make love with Murat. She had to have that memory to take with her when she left.

“I want you.”

For a heartbeat he did nothing. Then he gathered her up in his arms and lowered her to the ground.

“We must be practical,” he said as he sat next to her. “Riding boots are not romantic.”

She grinned as he pulled his off, then went to work on her. When their feet were bare, she stretched out on his shirt and held open her arms.

“Make love with me, Murat.”

He claimed her with a soul-touching kiss and a growl. His clever fingers returned to her breasts where he teased her into a frenzy. She squirmed and writhed, wanting more, needing more to find her release.

At last he moved lower, to the button of her jeans. He unfastened it and lowered the zipper. She pushed down with him, helping him remove the heavy fabric, along with her panties.

And then she was naked before him. Rather than feel embarrassed, Daphne let her legs fall open in a brazen invitation for what she really wanted. He did not disappoint. Even as he lowered his head and began to kiss her breasts, he slipped his fingers between her thighs and into her waiting dampness.

He found that one perfect spot on the first try. Just the slight brush of skin against the swollen knot of nerves made her jump. He shifted slightly so that he could rub that spot with his thumb while slipping his fingers deep inside her.

This was too much, she thought as she found herself caught up in a sensual vortex. His mouth on her breasts, his thumb rubbing, his fingers moving around and around. She was slick and more than ready, and it was just a matter of seconds until the tension filled her.

She tried to hold back, to breathe, to do anything to keep herself from falling so quickly. But it felt too good. She clutched at him and gave up the battle.

“Now!” she gasped as her release washed over her. Wave after wave of pleasure surrounded her, filled her, caught her and then let her fall. She pulsed her hips in time with his movements, slowing as she neared the end. He slowed, as well.

When she'd finished, she sank back onto his shirt and draped one forearm across her eyes. It was one thing to impulsively give in to sex with a man. It was another when he was as imperious as Murat. What would happen now?

She braced herself for some comment about his prowess with women or how easily she'd surrendered, and tried to tell herself it didn't matter.

But he said nothing.

The silence grew until Daphne finally dropped her arm and opened her eyes. Murat leaned over her, but he didn't look overly pleased with himself. Instead he seemed…humbled.

No way, she thought, even as he brushed his mouth against hers.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Thank you for letting me pleasure you. I know that you could have held back and kept me from taking you to paradise, and you did not.”

The man was crazy. She could no more have held back than she could have flown to the moon. But he didn't have to know that.

“I liked what you were doing,” she said.

“Perhaps you would like something else, as well.”

She thought about how hard he'd been, how long and thick. Then she thought about him inside of her.

“I think I would,” she told him with a smile.

He didn't have to be asked twice. Seconds later he was naked and kneeling between her knees. He braced himself on his hands and slowly entered her.

He felt exactly right, she thought as she reached up to caress his back. When he filled her, nerve endings cheered and began to do a little dance. Despite her first release, she felt the tension building again and knew it was going to be even better the second time around.

He moved slowly, giving them both time to adjust and anticipate. About the third time he stroked all the way in, she gave up acting like a lady and pulled him down against her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. As their tongues mated, she shifted so she could hug his hips with her legs. That caused him to push in even deeper and she was instantly lost.

Murat felt the first pulsing ripples of Daphne's release. His plans to dazzle her with his stamina quickly faded as each contraction pushed him closer to the edge. She gasped and moaned and clung to him, begging him to continue. He forced himself to hold back until she had stilled and only then did he allow himself to give in to the building explosion of desire.

 

Daphne knew that it was best to act as casual as possible, but she wasn't sure how to accomplish the task, given what had just happened. She felt as if Murat had somehow touched every cell in her body and made it scream with pleasure. Still, as he rolled onto his back and drew her close so she could rest her head on his shoulder, she was determined not to gush. He hardly needed the increase in his already impressive ego.

“You are amazing,” he said as he stroked her bare back.

“Thank you. I could say the same thing about you.”

“As you should.”

She laughed. “How like a crown prince to insist on defining the compliments.”

“You are made for pleasure.”

“I don't know about that, but I don't mind giving in to it from time to time.” Especially to a man as skilled as he. He sure knew his way around the female anatomy. Did princes get classes in that sort of thing so they didn't embarrass themselves? Were there—

“You are not a virgin.”

The unexpected statement nearly didn't register. Daphne pushed herself up on one elbow and stared at him.

“Excuse me?”

“You are not a virgin.”

She laughed. “Murat, I'm thirty. What did you think?”

“That you would not give yourself away so easily.”

Her warm, fuzzy feelings began to fade. “You're judging me?”

He put his free hand behind his head and regarded her thoughtfully. “Even though we were engaged ten years ago, I never touched you. You left here as innocent as you arrived.”

“So?”

“So tell me the name of the man who has defiled you, and I will have him tortured and beheaded.”

She started to laugh, then realized he wasn't kidding. There was some definite rage bubbling under the surface.

She sat up and stared at him. “Wait a minute. You're serious.”

“Deadly so.”

“That's crazy. You can't kill every man I've slept with.”

He frowned. “How many have there been?”

“How many women have you slept with in the past ten years?”

“That is not your concern.”

“My answer exactly.”

“Your situation is completely different. You are a woman. Men took advantage of you. Tell me who they are.”

“You belong in the DarkAges,” she said as she scrambled to her feet and grabbed for her panties. She pulled them on, then found her bra and put that on as well.

“You're also making me crazy,” she continued as she glared down at him. “I am a modern woman and have lived a relatively quiet life. Yes, there have been a few men, but I was careful about whom I chose, and no one ever took advantage of me.” She threw up her hands. “Why am I explaining myself to you?”

“Because you feel bad about what happened.”

“I didn't before, but I'm starting to now.”

“I don't mean here,” he said as he sat up. “Those other men…”

“Are none of your business.” She stepped into her jeans. “You're acting like an idiot. Worse, you're acting like a sexist pig and that's even more unforgivable.”

“I care about you. I want to look after you.”

She picked up her shirt and slipped into it. “I don't need looking after. I've been fine for years. As for the men I slept with, I will never tell you their names. I don't want or need your protection.”

Murat stood. She hated how good he looked naked and the way her body responded. Get a grip, she told herself. He was nothing but trouble. Stupid, sexist trouble. To think she'd actually been attracted to him!

While he collected his clothes, she pulled on her socks and boots.

“You're even worse than I thought,” she said when she'd finished. “I don't care how good the sex is, I wouldn't marry you if the entire fate of the human race depended on it. There is nothing you can ever say or do to get me to change my mind.”

He paused in the act of shrugging into his shirt. “I am Crown Prince Murat of—”

“You know what? I've heard the speech dozens of times and I'm not impressed. Not by it or you.” She glared at him. “You want to know why I left you ten years ago? It's because you couldn't see past who you were enough to notice me. You didn't love me. You barely cared about me. I was just one more item on your royal to-do list. ‘Get married and produce heirs.' Here's a news flash, Your Highness. A woman needs to matter to the man she marries. She needs to be with someone who needs her. I wasn't interested in marrying a man who thought of me as a mere woman.”

She spied her hat and quickly scooped it up. “I left because you're just not good enough for me.”

 

Murat could not believe what Daphne had just said. How dare she say such things to him? But before he could voice his outrage, she walked away toward the horses, collected her mount and quickly swung into the saddle. When he realized she intended to ride off without him, he grabbed his boots.

“Stop. You don't know the way.”

She didn't bother answering or even looking back. Instead she gave the animal its head and took off at a canter.