Chapter 28
She’s leaning against the door, watching me.
I can usually predict my opponents’ next move, but right now, I have no idea what hers will be.
If I had to guess, I’d say that once the adrenaline of what just happened fades and she realizes how bold she’s been, she’ll retreat again.
Adeela has a naturally shy nature, though she’s shown more than once that, when aroused, the good girl disappears and a wildcat takes her place.
And I can’t decide which version of her I prefer. Or maybe it would be more honest to admit that every side of her fascinates me.
“Were you serious about what you said to her?” I ask.
“About what?”
I slide my hands into my pockets to stop myself from walking toward her, because she looks far too tempting in that dress, her cheeks still flushed from the confrontation with Ingrid. “About going crazy if she ever came near me again.”
She shrugs lightly. “I think I’m jealous.”
“You think?”
“How can I be sure? You’re my first everything.”
Damn. That doesn’t help my self-control at all.
It’s primitive, but human, the way I feel like some Neanderthal every time she looks at me as if she’s asking to be taught. Knowing that her body is like a blank page we’ll write on together, one chapter at a time.
“I’d like to see you lose control,” I admit.
“Angry?”
“No. Out of control.”
“How?”
“Maybe this isn’t the best place for a demonstration.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m far from perfect and you’re irresistible. I’d never want to do anything that could hurt you.”
“You’d never hurt me.”
“Not on purpose.”
“Then how?”
“You know how much I want you, Adeela. You’re innocent, untouched . . . but you can feel how my body reacts every time you’re near me.”
“When you say things like that,” she whispers, “I want to tell you to stop . . . and at the same time, I want to ask for more. Does that make any sense?”
“How much more?” I take a slow step toward her.
“I don’t know. But I liked . . .”
“Liked what?”
She glances away, unable to meet my eyes. “The things you said to me in that dressing room.”
I take the risk, unsure how far I should go. I walk to the lamp and turn it on, letting its soft glow replace the harsh ceiling light. Maybe she’ll feel safer that way.
“Sit down,” I say quietly. “I just want to look at you.”
She hesitates, then sits.
I stop in front of her, not too close, not yet. “You can stop me with one word,” I tell her.
She nods once as an answer.
“Lift your dress and spread your thighs.”
“You want to see my panties?”
The mix of shyness and raw innocence in her question nearly gives me a heart attack, my cock responding instantly.
“You really want to experience what I can make you feel?”
“Yes.”
“Then do as I say.”
She lifts the dress until it rests at her hips and I can see the white silk lingerie.
“I’vee spent the whole night imagining what you were wearing underneath that dress, but I thought it would be something black or red.”
“I like light colors.”
Without me asking, her legs part a little wider.
“Have you ever touched your body?”
“Touched my body how?”
“Given yourself pleasure.”
I notice the movement of her throat as she swallows hard.
“No.”
“Lean back on one arm, and with the other, stroke the inside of your thigh.”
“But . . .”
“Do you want to stop?” I tease.
“No.” Her small fingers slide over her skin, moving slowly, and I wish I were on my knees to watch more closely, though I fear that might scare her.
“Good?”
She nods. “What are we gonna do?”
“No questions. Just feel,” I tell her, stepping closer. I can’t risk missing a single detail. “Touch yourself over your panties.”
She obeys and, at the same time, tilts her head back as a restrained moan escapes her lips. I stand beside her now, my hand tangling in her silky hair.
“From inside,” I whisper. “I want to see your hand under the fabric. Tell me if you’re wet.
” My voice comes out low and rough, and when her fingers slip beneath the thin piece of silk, my control nearly shatters.
The moment she brushes her clit for the first time, she lets out a breathy moan that nearly undoes me.
Her nipples strain against the fabric of her dress, hard and visible.
Adeela moves her hand slowly, instinctively discovering how to pleasure herself, how to chase the feeling growing inside her.
“Take off your panties. I want to see you.”
She doesn’t remove it completely, just lets it slide down to mid-thigh, which somehow feels even more provocative.
Her hair is short, and all I want is to part the lips of her pussy and see the moisture there. How eager she is, perhaps without even realizing, to have me inside her untouched body.
Her restless little hand doesn’t stop moving, hips rolling in unconscious rhythm.
“I need more than this,” she confesses.
A thin layer of sweat covers her forehead, and witnessing her desire steals what’s left of my sanity.
“I can make it better.”
I kneel a few inches from her now, her scent intoxicating me, the sight of her dark hair stirring something primitive inside me.
Without asking permission, I remove her lingerie completely and bring the hand she used to touch herself to my mouth.
Her fingers are slick and sweet with her pleasure.
She gasps when she sees me sucking them.
I’ve gone far beyond the point of restraint and pull one of her legs over my shoulder.
She moves closer to the edge of the bed, and knowing her desire is stronger than her fear of the unknown strips away any hint of control I still had. I part the lips of her pussy and run my thumb over her clit. She lies back, her free leg bent.
Adeela seems as thirsty for pleasure as I am, and I can’t resist anymore.
I trace a path with my lips from her knee to her pussy, never stopping the motion of my thumb.
I take a moment just to look at her, relying on every ounce of experience not to lose myself in the desire. Tonight is only the beginning of her universe of discoveries.
“Please,” she begs.
I bite her inner thigh lightly, and her hands slide into my hair, her body moving on the bed.
My fingers dig into her skin while my hungry mouth searches for the sweetness she offers me.
I drink her excitement, taking everything she gives, committed to making her cry out as she discovers herself as a woman for the first time.
My tongue explores her slick folds, teasing the untouched flesh, my teeth grazing her most sensitive point.
I know the exact moment she begins to fall apart, her body trembling, sending me a message that builds painful anticipation.
In that instant, her desire becomes mine. I could spend the rest of my days devoted to making her lose herself in my arms.
With each whimper and moan, Adeela pulls me deeper into her world. The eroticism of our act isn’t only in the pleasure of seeing her taken by lust, but in how connected I feel, something I’ve never experienced with another woman.
I open my mouth, trying to reach every part, drawing from her endlessly, sucking gently as my finger, carefully, replaces my tongue.
When her spasms begin, I wish there were a camera to capture it so I could relive the moment again and again.
I don’t stop until the last drop of her pleasure is mine, and even then, I spend a little longer tending to her, like a cat finishing its bowl of milk.
Her legs relax, and I climb onto the bed. I pull her dress down to cover the tempting sight of her bare body. After lying beside her, I draw her into my arms.
I can’t relax. Not because my desire hasn’t been satisfied but because I’m trying to piece together what just happened.
While my mind races, the beautiful woman, my woman, surrenders to post-orgasmic sleep, unaware that tonight, at least, the teacher became the student of her pleasure.
It’s already past midnight when we leave the cabin, and the party that was still going on when we came in is nothing but a memory now.
She can barely stand from exhaustion, so I lift her in my arms to leave the marina as quickly as possible. I don’t want to risk any paparazzi catching sight of her in my arms at this hour. I have no doubt it would end up on the covers of dozens of celebrity magazines.
What for a normal couple would be nothing out of the ordinary—a man out late at night with his fiancée after a party—could for us, raised in a less permissive culture, cause quite a stir among our people.
I’d rather lose an eye than allow anyone to hurt her with cruel comments.
I’m almost stepping off the boat when I notice Vicenzzo’s silhouette, staring at the sea. He looks like a man facing the end of his life, and seeing my friend that way hits me hard, so I make a mental note to call him tomorrow.
But right now, I need to take care of my sleeping woman.
Her arms are wrapped around my neck.
She’s nestled close, trusting, while I try to understand what it is between us that makes me want to keep her near. What makes me so damn sure there’s no other place she should be but here with me.
I think about what she said regarding the three-year clause.
I should make a counteroffer: if I don’t betray her during that time, she won’t be allowed to leave. Ever again.
The thought barely crosses my mind before I push it away.
I would never beg her not to leave me.
I’ll never beg anyone for anything.