Free Scandal: His Majesty's Love-Child by Annie West

to his as if it was meant to be.
    He stilled.
    There was no sound except a riffle of night breeze against the tent flap and the discreet chirrup of an insect down by the wadi. Annalisa didn’t breathe. Nor did Tahir. The moment stretched long and portentous between them.
    Their gazes meshed as she absorbed the full weight of what they’d done. She read the grim tension drawing his lean features. The strained muscles of his shoulders and neck. The flare of his nostrils. The fact that his gaze had turned utterly unreadable.
    Was he regretting this?
    She should be shocked to be in this position. Yet it felt right. They felt right together.
    Warmth welled in her chest, filling the place pain had hollowed.
    Tentatively she smiled, clasping his face in her hands. The tickling caress of his beard felt better than velvet under her palms. She reached up to bestow a brief breathless kiss on his lips.
    Tahir pulled back just far enough that she could see the light blaze in his eyes. His mouth turned up at one side, creating that sexy groove in his cheek she so adored.
    The air smelt of the desert night, of the spicy musk of Tahir’s skin, and of happiness.
    Then he was kissing her, open-mouthed, slow yet passionate, as he moved within her. She gasped at the feel of his hard length sliding against her, igniting ripples of extraordinary pleasure.
    He smiled against her mouth, his movements building to a steady pace that stole her breath all over again.
    Then, abruptly, she began shaking. She was overloading on physical delight. Fire licked her belly, ecstasy sizzled along her nerve-ends and a quaking started deep inside.
    ‘Tahir?’ Her voice cracked as wave after wave of pleasure broke over her. She clung, suddenly scared.
    His lazy smile was gone. But his look reassured her. ‘Trust me, little one. Just let it happen. I promise you’ll be safe.’
    Not allowing her respite, he moved faster, harder, further, till she couldn’t bear any more. Suddenly, gloriously, the volcanic force exploded into a starburst of euphoria. Wave after wave buoyed her up, till she floated high above the earth, suspended in utter bliss.
    She heard his breath quicken, a groan as if of pain, then an exultant shout as he rocked faster, out of control, and suddenly the stars exploded again.
    Through it all Annalisa held tight to the man in her arms, sensing for the first time a feeling of true belonging.
    He felt like hell. Every bone and muscle ached. His head pounded sickeningly. He drew a slow breath and exhaled pain. The ribs he was pretty sure he’d bruised or cracked in the chopper crash hurt like the devil.
    Yet he’d do it all again for the pleasure of seeing Annalisa experience orgasm for what he was pretty sure was the first time.
    Heat ignited and his blood headed south at the memory of her gasping his name as she climaxed.
    She’d been gorgeous. Glorious. Addictive. And the feel of her! The exquisite pleasure of being inside her!
    He couldn’t remember the last time sex had been that good. He doubted it ever had been.
    Even though his memory had now returned, he could barely remember the last time he’d been with a woman. For months his libido had been non-existent. But he hadn’t cared enough to worry about it. He’d given up caring about anything much these last years.
    Too many years abusing his body with too little sleep, too many parties, too much alcohol, far too many women. Pushing the limits as he sought new challenges and pleasures. Anything to divert him from the grey pall that threatened whenever he stayed in one place too long.
    Yet he’d been anything but bored in the dead heart of Qusay! With a woman who had no notion of how innately sexy she was. Who’d trusted and cared for him as no woman ever had.
    An unfamiliar sensation slithered down his backbone. Regret? A pang of conscience?
    It was so novel he concentrated his meagre energies on pinning it down. Was it conscience?
    People thought Tahir Al’Ramiz didn’t possess