Free Sheikh's Possession by Sophia Lynn Page A

yes, I will take you," he said, his voice as rough as a midwinter sea. "I will lay you down, and I will take what I want from you while giving you as much pleasure as I can. Once you tell me that I can, I will not stop, do you understand?"
    "Yes," she whispered. She could feel the pull of him, like gravity, like some dark natural force that could not be denied. If she was honest with herself, she never wanted to deny him, not this, not anything.
    His hands cradled her face, making her look up at him. He was a tall man, powerful and fast. Many women in her place would have been afraid, if not of his body, then of the raging passion that she could see there now.
    "Well?" he asked.
    "I want you," she whispered. "I want you more than I have ever wanted anything, Please … take me …"
    She could see the moment when the desire ignited in his eyes. She could see now that there was no going back, and she leaped forward at the same moment that he reached for her. The force of their kiss was an almost bruising clash of mouth and teeth, but she knew that he felt that pleasure and that pain just as she did. They were two hearts that beat to the same rhythm, and tonight, at least, they would not be separated.
    His hands tangled in her hair, knotting his fingers through the smooth strands and holding her still as he kissed her. She couldn't get enough of touching him, her hands frantically pulling his shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers so she could touch his flanks, his belly, his muscular back.
    "I want you," she panted. "God above, I want you so much, Rasul …"
    His groan was all the answer she got, and then somehow, he had borne her gently to the floor. On her back, she looked up with wide eyes as his rose above her, stripping away her clothes with only a few short movements. His body called to her, making her want to mark him as hers somehow. There was something deeply primal about the way they moved together. She didn't care if he was bruising her, she didn't care if she was leaving marks on him. All that mattered was getting as close to him as she could, feeling the way he moved over her and making him feel how hot he was making her.
    Their frantic kisses stalled only so he could strip off his own clothes, and now they were writhing naked together, pressing their bodies as close as they could get because anything else was unbearable.
    "Beautiful, beautiful woman," Rasul crooned. "All I want, all I have ever wanted …"
    When she nipped at his lip, he groaned with need, fisting his hand in her hair to hold her still. That small bit of restraint drove her wild, and she bit him again, harder this time. When he drew back, she snapped her teeth at him, making him grin.
    "You think you're so tough?" he growled. "Well, let's see how tough you really are …"
    She gasped out loud when he flipped her over onto her stomach, pinning her down by sheer superior weight. She started to try to lever herself up, but Rasul held her down with one hand pressed against her back. Then she felt his soft, wet mouth lapping at the nape of her neck, and suddenly, she had much less interest in trying to get up. Instead, she lay still as one hand ruffled through her hair, the other holding her in place. He never stopped tracing maddeningly light kisses along her shoulders, the bumps of her spine, the curve of her flank. His touch was so light, but it stopped just short of being ticklish. Instead, it made her squirm, the pleasure laced throughout her body inching up with every pass of his mouth.
    Slowly, he worked his way down to the curve above her rear, and by then, she had no interest in struggling at all. Instead, she lay flat on the floor, her hands curling and uncurling as he layered sensation over sensation on her skin. He kissed the back of her thigh before moving down to the sensitive skin behind her knee. His skilled hands rubbed the firm muscles of her calves and the arches of her feet, making her aware of those parts of herself in a