licked the pink shell curve of her lobe, making her words disappear. "The wise Musa ibn Maymun said, 'Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.' I will show you how to give yourself pleasure."
She clamped her jaw shut. No doubt she fought her every instinct to resist him, to free herself and throw him from the room. But on some level, she must know that this was what she needed.
He could tell it took every ounce of her willpower not to throw him off and escape. She had to close her eyes to face the battle within herself. Her mouth twisted as if she was in pain—how could she allow him to control and manipulate her? But she wanted the experience. And she couldn't deny the heat that was between them any more than he could.
He had no desire to make the decision for her. If she wished him to go, he would. But she needed to submit to him.
She just needed a little incentive. A taste of what lay ahead for her.
He tangled his fingers in hers, still holding it on the mound of her curls. Moving both their hands, he parted the lips of her sex. Moisture coated his fingers instantly. He teased her, making tiny whorls that barely touched the very tip of her clitoris.
She gasped, her eyes opening wide.
"Feel yourself," he instructed her.
She hesitated. This was the moment. Either she would give in to him, allow him the control he needed, and she secretly craved, or she would step back and end it.
"You have not done this with a man," he said, distracting her.
Her cheeks fired crimson. She gave her head a little shake, though whether her embarrassment came from the admission or touching herself in front of him, he did not know.
Both were powerful aphrodisiacs. Knowing she was doing something with him that she had done with no other lover, and that she was being more honest with him than with any other man. Of course she would discover his betrayal soon enough. For now, he could only enjoy the affect she had on him.
She made her decision. The fire in her cheeks settled to a simmering coal glow. And her fingers relaxed.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay," he repeated back to her, amused by the slang.
He placed his finger on top of hers, and pressed down into her sex. "Touch yourself for me."
She swallowed hard as he kissed her throat. But she nodded silently, her words locked inside her. Her finger twitched twice in hesitation, then she began to touch herself as instructed.
"Do not stop," he told her. "No matter how good you feel, no matter what height of pleasure you reach, do not stop. You need to do this, Stacia. And since no man has brought you to satisfaction, you will do it yourself."
While she touched herself, he took one of her pretty breasts in one hand. And he tasted the nipple of the other with a light flick of his tongue.
Too much , Stacia thought. The sensations were too intense. Her body was too sensitive to each touch. What made her most sensitive of all was knowing that Zaq, this stranger, watched everything. His eyes drank her in like she was a porn star performing for his amusement instead of him being a hired gun with the job of serving her.
"Stop thinking," he ordered. "Just feel, Stacia. Feel how good it is to touch and be touched. You know what your body wants, Stacia. Simply listen to it."
When he flipped her onto her front, he stripped her of all her control. Every atom in her body began screaming to fight back, to get back in charge, to dominate the situation. She fought the feeling. Instead, she concentrated on her most wicked sensations. A thrum of pure pleasure. And the appreciative hands caressing her bottom.
"You do have the most magnificent ass," Zaq said, as he removed the rest of his clothing.
He pulled her to her hands and knees. Balancing on one hand became too difficult, so she lowered her face to a convenient pillow. He parted her knees. Cool air hit her sex and she tried not to think about the view her gigolo must be enjoying as he
She clamped her jaw shut. No doubt she fought her every instinct to resist him, to free herself and throw him from the room. But on some level, she must know that this was what she needed.
He could tell it took every ounce of her willpower not to throw him off and escape. She had to close her eyes to face the battle within herself. Her mouth twisted as if she was in pain—how could she allow him to control and manipulate her? But she wanted the experience. And she couldn't deny the heat that was between them any more than he could.
He had no desire to make the decision for her. If she wished him to go, he would. But she needed to submit to him.
She just needed a little incentive. A taste of what lay ahead for her.
He tangled his fingers in hers, still holding it on the mound of her curls. Moving both their hands, he parted the lips of her sex. Moisture coated his fingers instantly. He teased her, making tiny whorls that barely touched the very tip of her clitoris.
She gasped, her eyes opening wide.
"Feel yourself," he instructed her.
She hesitated. This was the moment. Either she would give in to him, allow him the control he needed, and she secretly craved, or she would step back and end it.
"You have not done this with a man," he said, distracting her.
Her cheeks fired crimson. She gave her head a little shake, though whether her embarrassment came from the admission or touching herself in front of him, he did not know.
Both were powerful aphrodisiacs. Knowing she was doing something with him that she had done with no other lover, and that she was being more honest with him than with any other man. Of course she would discover his betrayal soon enough. For now, he could only enjoy the affect she had on him.
She made her decision. The fire in her cheeks settled to a simmering coal glow. And her fingers relaxed.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay," he repeated back to her, amused by the slang.
He placed his finger on top of hers, and pressed down into her sex. "Touch yourself for me."
She swallowed hard as he kissed her throat. But she nodded silently, her words locked inside her. Her finger twitched twice in hesitation, then she began to touch herself as instructed.
"Do not stop," he told her. "No matter how good you feel, no matter what height of pleasure you reach, do not stop. You need to do this, Stacia. And since no man has brought you to satisfaction, you will do it yourself."
While she touched herself, he took one of her pretty breasts in one hand. And he tasted the nipple of the other with a light flick of his tongue.
Too much , Stacia thought. The sensations were too intense. Her body was too sensitive to each touch. What made her most sensitive of all was knowing that Zaq, this stranger, watched everything. His eyes drank her in like she was a porn star performing for his amusement instead of him being a hired gun with the job of serving her.
"Stop thinking," he ordered. "Just feel, Stacia. Feel how good it is to touch and be touched. You know what your body wants, Stacia. Simply listen to it."
When he flipped her onto her front, he stripped her of all her control. Every atom in her body began screaming to fight back, to get back in charge, to dominate the situation. She fought the feeling. Instead, she concentrated on her most wicked sensations. A thrum of pure pleasure. And the appreciative hands caressing her bottom.
"You do have the most magnificent ass," Zaq said, as he removed the rest of his clothing.
He pulled her to her hands and knees. Balancing on one hand became too difficult, so she lowered her face to a convenient pillow. He parted her knees. Cool air hit her sex and she tried not to think about the view her gigolo must be enjoying as he
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