Read To Tame a Sheikh for Free Online Page A

you.”
    “It will be perfect. Anything with you is perfect.”
    He growled something as he dragged her onto his lap. “Don’t say one more word, Gemma. If you don’t want to have a raving lunatic all over you. I’ve never even imagined being out of control. But I am now.”
    She sobbed a giggle. “If this is you out of control, I’d hate to see you in it. You’d probably kill me with frustration.”
    This time it was his lips that stopped her words, in that kiss she’d imagined since she was old enough to know what kisses were. It turned out she’d never even come close to knowing.
    This was a kiss. This tender ferociousness. This gentle devouring. Only this. Shaheen possessing her lips, each sweep and pull and thrust layering sensations, burying her in pleasure. His scent and taste and feel filling her, his hunger finishing her.
    She undulated beneath him, until he subdued her, held her arms above her head as his other hand flowed down from her face to her shoulder, ending up cupping the aching heaviness of one breast. “You’re only allowed to moan for more, and cry out with pleasure. That will be enough to drive me out of my mind.”
    “Let me see you,” she moaned.
    “Not yet. And you’re already breaking the rules.”
    “You said I could moan for more. I am, for more of you.”
    “You’ll have all of me, every way you like. Just not now.”
    “You’re being unfair,” she whimpered.
    “It’s you who’s unfair. Nothing should be this magnificent.”
    She tried to free her hands. She needed them on him, any part of him, without the barrier of clothes.
    He growled deep in his chest, spread her back and continued owning her body with his sensual torment. But it was only when he slid her hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled before her again that she realized his intention. Her heart stuttered.
    It was stupid to feel embarrassed at having his mouth and hands on her intimate flesh when she was begging for far more. But there it was. She tried to close her legs.
    He insisted, caressed them apart. “Open yourself to me, let me feast on you. Let me prepare you.”
    “I’m prepared,” she cried out. “Please!”
    “I don’t want to hold back when I take you, and only a few climaxes will prepare you for my possession.”
    “A few…? ” She choked on incredulity.
    What was he going to do to her?
    Anything. She’d take anything and everything he did to her.
    She opened herself to him and those long, perfect fingers caressed her feminine lips apart, slid through her molten need. She keened, lurched with jolts of sensation almost too much to bear. And that was before he dipped one finger in. Each slow inch felt like pure pleasure. It made her realize how empty she’d felt. How only having him inside her would fill the void.
    She tried to drag him up to her with her legs. He only opened her fully and burned her to the core in his ragged hunger.
    She malfunctioned completely as his magnificent head settled between her thighs and his lips and tongue scorched the heart of her femininity. The sight, the concept of what he was doing to her, giving her, was almost more incapacitating than the physical sensations.
    Through the delirium, she watched him cosset her, strum her, drink her, revel in her essence, in her need and taste and pleasure. He seemed to know when she couldn’t take any more.
    “Now, ya roh galbi, let me see and hear how much I pleasure you.” Then his tongue swept her flesh again.
    Her body unraveled in a chain-reaction of convulsions, in soul-racking ecstasy, as she held his eyes all through, letting him see what he was doing to her.
    She subsided, unable even to beg him to come to her, and he began again, varying his method, renewing her desperation, deepening her surrender.
    She’d lost count of how many times he’d wrung her pleasure when at one point he kept her on the brink, came up to straddle her.
    He painted her with caresses, kneaded her breasts, gently squeezed her