Her muscles went lax. Her body thrummed with need. Her legs ached to slide around his hips.
She groaned as he walked her backward toward the couch, nearly cried out in ecstasy as he lowered her to the cushions. His kisses drove her mad, his tongue so slick, so firm, so delicious stroking her own. She wanted that tongue laving her breasts as it had before. Wanted to feel it slide along her sex until she came. Then she wanted it back in her mouth as she straddled his hips and lowered, taking him deep for the very first time.
Wicked, erotic images of the two of them tangled naked filled her mind. Him holding her head between his legs, forcing his cock into her mouth. Her on her knees, her ass in the air, his hand pushing her face into the floor as she struggled while he thrust into her from behind again and again and again. Him pinning her to the wall face-first, fucking her from behind, pulling her back against him and forcing her to look to the right toward another naked male body, this one hazy but clearly turned on, the face masked, the strong legs eating up the distance as he headed their way with a riding crop in his broad hand.
The last image jolted her out of the kiss. She pulled back, stared up at Tariq’s flushed face. Tried to catch her breath.
Whoa. Wait. What the hell was that? The whole multiple partners/BDSM thing definitely wasn’t something she’d ever fantasized about. She gave her head a swift shake, tried to clear the image from her mind. Only it didn’t work. The images were still there, circling, flashing, growing darker and more perverse.
She shoved Tariq away, sat up, and rubbed both hands down her face, more shaken than she wanted to admit. That wasn’t a turn-on for her. Neither was forced sex or pain. So why was she thinking of both now? Why couldn’t she get those pictures out of her brain?
“Mira?” Tariq asked, concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“I—” She drew a deep breath. It didn’t help. “I—can’t breathe.”
He moved off the couch and back a step. She pushed to her feet, stumbled by him. Stopped in the middle of the room and tried to suck back air. Her lungs felt three sizes too small. When he came up behind her and reached for her hand, she tried to push him away, but there was no strength in the shove.
“Breathe, hayaati,” he whispered.
She squeezed her eyes tight. Shook her head again. “I—I can’t get them to stop. The pictures won’t go away.”
“Ghuls,” he growled.
She had no idea what that meant, but even as the images assaulted her all over again, she heard him muttering words in a foreign language. Words she didn’t understand. Slowly, the images fled, leaving behind nothing but mist and fog. And before she could ask what he’d just done, her muscles went lax, and darkness spiraled in.
Mira blinked several times. She had no idea how long had passed or what had happened, but when she finally pulled her eyes all the way open, she found herself looking up at the dark, vaulted ceiling in her bedroom.
“There, hayaati,” a male voice whispered—Tariq’s voice. “Don’t move too much just yet.”
Something cool brushed across her forehead. She blinked several times again, realized she was lying on her bed. The bathroom door was ajar, letting in just enough light to illuminate the room. Shadows played over Tariq’s face, but even with them, she could see the concern.
“Wh-what happened?”
“You were being influenced,” he said with a shot of anger in his normally calm voice.
“Influenced?” That didn’t make sense. By who? By what?
“I told you last time I was here that there are good and evil djinn. That some prey on those in your realm, force humans to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do? They showed up because of me. I should have expected this.”
As he spoke, Mira thought back to what he’d told her before, then to the way she’d demanded Tariq kiss her only a few moments ago. Embarrassment rushed through her, followed by the memory of those images. And the desire to be the center of each wicked, naughty, X-rated scene.
Her cheeks heated. She looked away from his face. But his finger tipping her chin back toward him stopped her.
“You are safe now, Mira. I banished them.”
“Them?”
“There were two. Ghuls. The most perverse of all the tribes. I didn’t sense them when I first appeared because you…distracted me.” This time, it was his turn to blush. But the color faded from his cheeks before she could register anything other than surprise. “There’s no telling how long they were here tormenting you. But they’re gone now. You have nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about except him and this insane desire still rushing through her veins. Was that a result of the Ghuls? Of her? Of Tariq? And what would happen when he left? Would those things—those Ghuls—come back?
She swallowed hard, for the first time realizing she was dabbling in something way outside her expertise, then looked at his strong chest covered by the thin black T-shirt. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did need to rethink this whole wish thing. She was opening herself up to some pretty weird shit here.
But even as she debated, she knew she didn’t want to go back on her wish. Her need for Tariq was still as strong as it had been before. And deep inside, she knew that had nothing to do with those Ghuls. She’d wanted him since the beach. No, since before that. Since she’d first seen him standing in her living room. Yes, that whole influencing thing was pretty freaking nuts, but the images were now gone, and those things weren’t preying on her anymore. As long as Tariq stayed with her, she knew she’d be safe. He’d said they’d showed up because of him. When her wish was finished, those Ghuls wouldn’t care about her anymore, would they?
The key was keeping Tariq with her. And finding a way to make him want her as much as she wanted him.
Unease rippled through her. The same unease she felt whenever she passed Devin in the halls at work or tried to come up with a reason to run into him after hours. This was what she wanted to change. This lack of self-confidence. She wanted to be desirable. Strong. Craved.
Except…yeah, that was easier said than done. And even though she’d wished for it, he didn’t seem very eager to teach her.
She closed her eyes, rolled her head on the pillow as a lump grew in the center of her throat. Maybe she was just destined to be alone. Maybe love and marriage and the whole happily-ever-after thing wasn’t in the cards for her.
“It’s okay, Mira.”
His hand brushing her shoulder brought her eyes open. She looked up at him. At his deeply tanned skin, at the scar above his left eyebrow she hadn’t noticed before, at those dark, dark, haunting eyes. Eyes she wanted to lose herself in. Even if it was just temporary.
“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked.
“What?”
“Are you attracted to me?”
Color tinged his cheeks once more as he moved back an inch. “I—”
She pushed up to sitting, brushed her hair back from her face. There was no sense going ahead with this if he wasn’t at least a little attracted to her. She couldn’t just use him as some so easily did. And if she didn’t ask, she’d just drive herself nuts wondering. “Tariq, you said you wanted to be with me before. Do you still?”
“Mira—”
“Because here’s the deal.” She drew in a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Knew it was now or never. She could take a chance, go after what she wanted or…not. In her business dealings, she was a go-getter. In her personal life? Not so much. It was time to change that. “I’m not naïve. I’ve dated plenty of men, but I’ve never felt confident with them, and I think that’s why I’m still single. I want to learn…how to touch without wondering if I’m doing it wrong. To experience desire without the fear of rejection. And I called you back because for some strange reason—even though you are djinn, which is totally out there for me to even say—I feel comfortable with you. I want you to be the one to teach me. If you’re not attracted to me, though… If you’re just going to run again or come up with excuses
why I should ‘think’ more about what I want, then this isn’t worth it to me. I’ll take the Firebrand opal back to that shop and tell the shopkeeper my wish didn’t work.”
She stared at him. Waited for an answer. But he didn’t say anything. His eyes were blank, his expression neutral. And in the silence, Mira’s hopes and dreams crumbled at her feet.
She’d taken a chance. She’d gone after what she wanted. And in the end…it didn’t matter.
She was right where she’d started out.
Alone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tariq stared at Mira as her words sank in, and his pulse picked up speed.
She was willing to give up her wish all because she had standards. She wanted him—he could see it in her eyes, read it in her words—but she wasn’t going to force him. She was giving him an out, if he so chose.
Awe, admiration, and wonder swept through him once again. For a woman who was unlike any other he’d ever met.
All the resolve he’d come back here with, the intent to fulfill her wish, corrupt her soul as Zoraida wanted so he could move on and free at least one of his brothers, withered and died. How could he value one life over another?
Options raced through his mind as he stared at her. It was too late for him to free her from her wish. By calling him back, he was bound to her now until that wish was fulfilled. But…maybe there was a way to prolong it. Until, at least, he could come up with a better solution for all of them. Zoraida wouldn’t kill his brothers so long as he was here. Not when she needed Mira’s soul to strengthen her powers. And if he stayed with Mira, the witch couldn’t send Ghuls to influence Mira’s thoughts.
Staying took on a whole new appeal. Maybe they could just sit here and talk until he figured out what to do next.
“Tariq?”
Mira’s soft voice jolted him out of his thoughts, and he brushed a finger down her cheek before he thought better of it. “In my language, the word for teacher is mu’allim.”
“Mu’allim,” she repeated, drawing the word out. “I like that. But you didn’t answer my question.”
Her skin was silky smooth, and so pale next to his hand. Captivating. “You are beautiful, hayaati. And yes, I am extremely attracted to you. So much so that I left before not because I wasn’t interested, but because I knew if I didn’t leave then, I wouldn’t be able to stop touching you, stop tasting you. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop taking you.”
Heat flared in her eyes. Heat and desire and need. A need he could sate, right here and now. If, that was, he planned to corrupt her, which he couldn’t do anymore.
Keep talking. He had to keep talking so he didn’t reach for her.
“So much so,” he went on, thinking any words were better than none, “that the thought of you wanting to know how to please a man fills me with a jealous streak I’ve never experienced before. Djinn are not jealous creatures.”
A slow smile spread across her face, one that turned her from beautiful to downright gorgeous. She eased up on her elbows, maneuvered to sitting, and pulled her legs out of the way. “Is that so?”
“Yes, hayaati, it is.”
She moved before he even realized her intent. Pushed against his chest, sending him back onto the mattress. Then she leaned over him until her strawberry-blond hair fell around his face like a curtain. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”
Holy Allah in heaven. No one had ever cared about pleasing him. In all the years he’d been Zoraida’s pleasure slave, his assignments had only ever cared about their own desires. His weren’t even an afterthought. “Mira—”
She brushed her lush lips against his throat. Tingles rushed through his body, speared straight into his cock. “Do you like to be kissed here?”
His resistance wavered as his eyes slid closed. “Um…”
“How about here?” She trailed her mouth up to his ear, laved her tongue across his lobe as he’d done to her.
Yes, yes. Allah, yes, he liked that. But he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be letting her kiss him or touch him at all. He should be trying to distract her. Words. He needed to use words to get things back on track.
He slid his hands to her biceps, pushed gently. “Mira—”
She ignored the move, kissed his jaw, his chin, worked her way back up to his mouth instead. “And what about here?” Her index finger trailed across his lips. “Do you like to be kissed here as well?”
Desire rippled through his chest, spread lower to engulf him in flames. “Yes, hayaati,” he whispered before he realized what he was saying. “By you, always there.”
Her mouth closed over his, just as he wanted, just as he’d dreamed. And though he knew he shouldn’t, he opened to her, stroked his tongue against hers, grew hot and achy at the need for her to touch him elsewhere. Everywhere.
With her it wasn’t forced. With her it was natural. With her it was not duty, but pure, erotic bliss. A bliss he hadn’t realized he’d missed until right now.
A ribbon of guilt wove through him. He thought of his brothers locked in their cells. Of Ashur being beaten. Of Nasir’s split lip and malnourishment. Why had he complained about his imprisonment? Their torture was a thousand times worse than his. Especially now, when he was being kissed by the most amazing creature he’d ever met.
She skimmed a hand down his chest while he explored every corner of her lips, her mouth, her teeth and tongue. Her fingers tangled in his shirt as he cradled her face. She tugged the shirt up, breaking the kiss long enough to drag it over his head, then closed her lips over his once more.
She threw the cotton on the floor at her back. Smiled down with that sexy, heated, all-consuming look. And desire bunched in his stomach as he watched. Followed by a swift slap of reality.
Words weren’t going to work anymore. She wanted him. As much as he wanted her. If he tried to stop things now, it would only result in her feeling rejected.
He never wanted to hurt her.
Indecision rippled through him. Power was something he’d been forced to relinquish long ago to Zoraida. But even with his assignments, he still maintained control. He gave them what they wished, but he did so at his leisure, tempted them in a way he knew would corrupt their souls just as Zoraida wanted. This time, though, he could give that control to Mira. If he played his cards right, he could give her what she wanted and protect her soul from Zoraida at the same time.
She slid down his body and pressed her lips to his chest before he’d even made up his mind. “I love how smooth your skin is here. I love how muscular you are.”
He closed his eyes as she kissed his pecs, as she lowered and laved her tongue across his left nipple, then his right. Electricity arced through his body, shot into his groin, made him harder than he was sure he’d ever been.
“Do you like this?” she asked, trailing hot, wet kisses down his abdomen. “Do you like my mouth on you?”
Allah, did he. “Hayaati—”
She moved lower, pushed her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. Then tipped her gaze up so seductively, a wicked shot of desire made him lift his hips and rub his aching cock against her breasts. “I want to taste you, Tariq. I want to feel you harden against my tongue. Is that okay?”
Okay? Okay? She wanted to know if that was okay?
He ground his teeth against the raging need but couldn’t stop himself from pressing up on his elbows so he could watch while she slid to the floor and maneuvered between his legs. Somehow, he found the strength to say, “I am yours to do with as you wish, Mira. Anything. Everything.”
Confidence burned in her eyes. A confidence that hadn’t been there before. She popped the button on his jeans. Slid the zipper over his erection. Looked up again with that sinful, sexy, seductive expression. “I want you to tell me what pleases you. Right now, I want to learn how to make you come.”
Just her words was enough to make him do nearly that. His erection twitched as she pressed her hands inside his jeans, ran them down his hips, pulled the garme
nt from his legs, and let it drop to the floor.
She sucked in a breath when his cock sprang up, hard and pulsing and hot. Then licked her lips as if in anticipation of a wicked taste. “Commando. I like that. Tell me what to do, mu’allim.”
The word sounded dirty on her tongue. Nasty. Hotter than hell. His pulse grew faster.
This was about her, he reminded himself. About letting her have control, letting her take what she wanted. It wasn’t about him.
“Touch me,” he managed.
When her hand closed around his length, he nearly jumped. Her fingers were so dainty, her skin like silk. She moved her hand up, tightened at the head, then stroked him slowly.
“Do you like that?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Do you want more?” she said as she circled the head again, and tremors ran through his flesh. When he nodded once more, she added, “Tell me.”
He was in so much trouble here. He pushed his hips against her hand, groaned as her fingers slid down his length. “Taste me, hayaati.”
She smiled again, that Cheshire-cat grin he was growing to enjoy. And pleasure gathered in his groin as she leaned close, as her tongue flicked out to lick the tip, as the warm wetness of her mouth closed around his cock.
His eyes slid closed. He dropped his head back. Shuddered as she lowered and drew him deeper. Her tongue stroked the underside of his cock, her lips closed tight around his length. And when she suckled, he saw stars. He didn’t have to show her what he liked; she instinctively knew. Her hand stroked the base while her lips and tongue drove him completely mad. Then she drew him so deep he brushed her throat. He groaned in pure ecstasy.
“Allah, Mira. Just like that. Deeper.”
Her mouth was like nothing he’d ever felt. And the fact she was doing this for him, when she didn’t need to be, only amped his arousal. Her free hand brushed his thigh while she suckled, moved to his lower belly. The touch sent shards of electricity racing along his nerve endings. His balls tightened, and pleasure zinged down his spine. And when she groaned around his cock, sending vibrations through every bit of his flesh, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.