Claire stood at the window and looked out over the empty beach. Where had he gone this time?
With a frown, she flopped onto the couch and stared up at the thatched ceiling. So much for seducing him. She’d done exactly what she’d told herself not to do. She’d freaked him the hell out again.
She closed her eyes. Drew in a breath, let it out slowly. She just needed a minute to think of what to do next, but before she could get a grip on her thoughts, darkness descended, a black cloud that seemed to pull her under. Something in the back of her mind warned now was not the time to take a nap, but she couldn’t stop herself from floating.
A haze rolled in, almost like fog. And through the swirling smoke, she saw images. Fantasies. Those things she’d read about in books and seen online since she’d been banished. Wicked things. Erotic things that shifted and changed in front of her. And somewhere close, a voice whispered, Oh yes, we can do that too.
She didn’t know where the voice came from, but she liked the sound of it. Liked the accent and the way her whole body tingled in response. Liked the heat consuming her skin and the flutter in her stomach that told her something was coming. A darkness she craved. One she didn’t even care could just lead to her downfall.
Her body grew light, her mind empty. The couch shifted beneath her, and then air slid along her spine, as if she were moving.
For a moment, her mind recoiled, but she couldn’t open her eyes. And then softness cradled her limbs again.
She sighed, snuggled down against the cushions, tried to stay awake but couldn’t.
Hours later—it felt like hours later—that same sinful voice echoed close. “Wake up, Claire.”
Claire turned her head, tried to open her eyes, but they weren’t working.
“That’s it, noor.” Something soft brushed her calf. “Open those eyes for me. I know you’re tired, but fight it. I promise it will be worth your while.”
Claire rolled her head the other way, tried to stretch her arms out to the side, but met resistance.
What the…?
“Come on.” Another flutter of softness, this time against her kneecap. “Come back to me.”
She knew that voice. It was rough. Sexy. She’d heard it whispering in her dream. Wanted to hear it again. She flexed her fingers, tried to shift her leg so she could roll to her side, but again met resistance.
The whisper-soft touch traced the inside of her knee, moved down to her ankle and back up the outside of her leg. Tingles ignited all along her spine.
A chuckle echoed to her ears, then the voice—his voice—whispered close, “You like that, don’t you? Open your eyes, and I promise you’ll like what you see even better.”
She fought against the haze. Finally managed to pull her eyelids open. Soft light blinded her. She blinked several times. Strained to see. Slowly, the watery image above came into view.
Wood beams. A flickering, warm light against a thatched roof. And beneath her…silk.
She was in her hut, the one she’d rented in the Marshall Islands. She tried to move her arms again. The bite of rope against her wrists brought her head up.
“There you are.”
Her head snapped around. Ashur was standing at the end of the bed, wearing nothing but the same black cotton pants he’d had on earlier. Darkness pressed in from the windows, making her wonder how long she’d been asleep, and candlelight flickered off his muscular torso. But the feather in his hand, the heat brewing in his eyes, and the menacing grin across his rugged face warned her to be careful how she reacted right now.
She tried to move her legs. Rope ground against ankles. She tugged on her arms again, but they didn’t budge, and in an instant, she realized she was tied to each of the four corners of the bed. “What—what’s going on?”
“You said you wanted to be seduced. I’m only doing what you desire.”
Her heart rate sped up, and she watched as he waved his hand over the table to her right. A series of objects appeared out of nowhere. Strange, rubber, phallus-shaped objects she’d only read about but recognized from the descriptions.
Unease shifted through her. She pulled harder on the ropes, desperate to get free. Pain spiraled up her limbs. “Um…this isn’t what I had in mind.”
He chuckled again, reached over and lifted the slim purple dildo. “No? I think you lie. I think purple was even your color of choice.”
Oh shit. She slowed her struggling. Her cheeks heated as she stared at him. He couldn’t possibly know about her fantasies. She’d never shared them with anyone. She—
Her unease jumped. “Are you…Ghul?”
He chuckled once more, an arousing yet dangerous sound, one that shouldn’t send a flutter through her stomach but did. “No. I hail from the Marid tribe.”
She breathed out a sigh of relief. Marid were powerful, yet reasonable when it came to negotiations. They kept to themselves, were considered honorable amongst the djinn race, and they rarely crossed into the human realm unless coerced. It was Ghuls one had to worry about. The most depraved of all djinn, they could read minds. Loved to, in fact, use that strategy to torment humans and decipher a soul’s weakness.
“But,” Ashur said, his eyes locked on her, his free hand sliding the length of the dildo, “my master has taught me a few very convenient Ghul skills.”
Her eyes grew wide as she watched him stroke the dildo as if it were his own cock, and her pulse picked up speed until it was a roar in her ears.
He’d tapped into her fantasies. That hadn’t been a dream at all.
Panic set in, spread beneath her ribs. She struggled in earnest against the ropes. “Untie me. Right now. I command it.”
He moved around the bed and leaned close to her ear, so close his musky scent overwhelmed her senses. “What was that? I don’t think I heard you right. Try again, noor. Command me.”
There was just enough venom in the way he said noor that she knew this wasn’t going to be a sweet seduction. He was pissed that she hadn’t freed him. And now he was using her fantasies to torment her. Ghul or Marid, it didn’t matter. He’d obviously learned more than just pleasure skills from his mistress.
That panic grew stronger, more intense. She willed him to back away, but he didn’t move. And then he chuckled once more. A sound that sent a tremor of fear straight down her spine.
“You’re not bound to the opal, noor. Only me. And that means your seduction is mine to choose.”
Oh shit, no…
“Relax,” he breathed hot against her ear. “This is about to get fun.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Claire’s heart raced as Ashur leaned back, that victorious grin curling one side of his lips, making her stomach cave with apprehension over what he had planned.
Wide eyed, she watched as he moved back to the table, picked up the feather and a black strip of silk and brought them and the purple dildo back to the bed.
“Easy,” he said while she struggled against the ropes. “All you’re going to do is hurt yourself.”
He was right. If her wrists weren’t bleeding already, they would be soon unless she stopped her fighting. She tried to relax, but when he leaned over with the black sash, her breaths grew quick and shallow. “Hold on—”
He ignored her plea, only chuckled again, covered her eyes and cinched the sash tight behind her head.
Darkness descended, and that fear jumped another notch. But there was something else, some craving brewing in her veins. Something she couldn’t define.
Sounds echoed through the room—the springs on the bed creaking as he eased off the mattress, the floorboards groaning as he moved around, something clicking on the nightstand, as if he’d set an object down.
Yes, she’d wanted to be seduced, but not like this. Not every fantasy was meant to be lived out. That was why it was a fantasy.
“Ashur…slow down a second. I—”
“You’re not the one calling the shots here, noor. Get used to it.” The feather brushed against her kneecap again, and tingles sho
t up her leg. Hot, sensual tingles that felt so damn good. Way better than they should. She clenched her teeth as the whisper-soft tip moved up her thigh and skirted the hem of her shorts.
At least she was still wearing shorts. “Ashur—”
“Protest, protest, protest. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were acting.”
The feather trailed up her hip, then caressed the bare skin of her abdomen. And those hot, spicy tingles shot to her hips, making her bite her tongue to keep from groaning. “I’m…I’m not.”
The feather moved over her T-shirt, sending spirals of heat all along her rib cage. “Your nipples are hard.”
“Because I’m cold.” Oh, Allah, that is not from being cold. “Ashur—”
“I think this shirt is in the way. Don’t you?” The feathery sensation left, and then something clicked, followed by the cold bite of steel against her lower belly that made her entire body freeze and vibrate with excitement at the same time. “Hold still. I don’t want to accidentally cut you.”
Cut her?
Scissors snapped. A rasp echoed to her ears, followed by warm air rushing over her abdomen and the erotic realization that he’d just sliced her shirt open.
“Ashur—”
“Be still.”
She sucked in a breath while the scissors moved up her stomach, cutting away what was left of the thin garment. When he reached the top, the cotton fell open, and the gentle breeze washed over her bare breasts, making the tips even harder, sending a shockwave of arousal straight to her sex.
He chuckled again. “Oh, I think you’re definitely enjoying this.” A click echoed, as if he’d put the scissors on the bedside table; then the tip of the feather tickled her breastbone. “Tell me, noor, are you wet?”
She trembled against the sheet. She didn’t want to admit that she was, that what he was doing was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced, and that the longer it went on, the harder it was for her to think straight. Because she needed to think straight. She was the one who was supposed to be doing the seducing and commanding, not the other way around. “Ashur, I don’t want—”
He trailed the feather to her right breast, circled the entire areola. “You don’t? Then use your powers and free yourself.”
She stilled. And her breaths quickened as his words permeated the sexual haze settling over her. “I don’t have any powers left. I told you that.”
“Then you truly are mine to do with whatever I want.” His warm breath washed over her other breast, and then something wet and soft—oh…his tongue—circled her nipple. “Do you want my mouth here? Like it was earlier? Remember how good that felt?”
Oh, she did. She hitched in a breath and reflexively arched toward his lips.
His mouth curled in a smile as he pressed soft kisses along the underside of her breast. “I’m going to make you beg, noor. Have you ever heard of erotic denial?”
She had trouble processing his words. Because all she could focus on was the wicked sensations in her breasts, the jolts of electricity they were sending to her sex and the need for him to suckle her as he’d done before.
The feather trailed down her bare stomach, over her shorts, then brushed the soft skin of her inner thigh.
Her sex quivered, and she arched her back. She didn’t even care anymore that he’d tied her down. She just wanted more of that heavenly mouth. Wanted to finally feel his entire body against hers. Wanted him to taste her. Everywhere.
He chuckled again, and heat flooded her veins in response, as if her entire body were on fire. “Answer me, noor.”
“No.” She twisted her head against the mattress, closed her fingers around the ropes leading to the bedposts. “No, I haven’t—”
The feather trailed down her inner thigh, then came up again, this time closer to her sex. She groaned, tightened her stomach, tried to lift her hips higher—to get away? To get closer? She wasn’t sure—but the ropes kept her in place. His tongue continued to tease a path all around her nipple but never touched it. She couldn’t help it. She groaned. Why wasn’t he suckling her? Why wasn’t he taking her shorts off? Why wasn’t he giving her the release he knew she craved?
He kissed her breastbone, dragged his lips down to her belly button and circled the indentation with the tip of his tongue until her clit throbbed. She groaned again. Arched higher. Gripped the ropes tighter. “Ashur, please—”
“It’s a heightened state of sexual arousal where release is repeatedly denied,” he said. “It can go on for hours, even days.” He continued the soft touch at her inner thigh, the brush of his lips at her lower abdomen, right near the waistband of her shorts. “Trust me, noor, I’ve been trained in all forms of desire. Before this night is through, you’re going to wish you had released me.”
A chill spread through her, and though her body still hummed with heat and need, slowly, the sexual haze cleared. Until thought reformed, and reality settled in hard.
This wasn’t about seduction. This was about torturing her until she finally let him go. About corrupting her soul, just as his master wanted.
I can’t let him go. I still need him…
A buzzing echoed close. Followed by his sultry voice. “Let’s see how hot we can make you with this.”
The scent of rubber rose up to her nose. Then something pressed against her shorts, right over her mound.
Wicked vibrations rocked her entire body. She cried out. Lifted her hips. Her frantic thoughts spiraled away, until she couldn’t grasp them anymore. Until all she could focus on was the tingling pulses consuming her sex.
He was using the dildo on her. She thrashed against the bed. Lifted her hips, dropped them, tried to rub against the toy. Yes, yes, yes… She wanted to feel it against her bare sex. Wanted him to press it inside her. Wanted the orgasm that was barreling closer with every second.
A sharp ring echoed through the room. Ashur lifted his head from the breast he’d been torturing and pulled the dildo away from her mound. She groaned in frustration as seconds passed in agony.
Finally, he whispered, “Just your phone. Where were we?”
The dildo pressed against her mound once more. Then every muscle in her body went rigid as his teeth pulled the snap free at her waist.
Oh… It was descending again. The haze that made thinking nearly impossible. The dark craving for his sinful touch. The desire to let go, to stop fighting, to give him anything he wanted.
Maybe you’ll enjoy it…
Oh, but she was enjoying. Too much. She was on the brink of doing whatever he commanded, giving him anything, promising everything if he’d just slide his hands into her waistband, drag the shorts down her hips, and take her.
A click resounded through the room, followed by, “Claire?”
Her answering machine. Someone was leaving a message. Someone Claire vaguely recognized but couldn’t place because every cell in her body was focused on Ashur’s wicked tongue now running beneath the waistband of her shorts and that damn dildo pulsing against her clit, making her sweat.
“Oh,” she whispered, lifting her hips again to alleviate the ache consuming every inch of her skin.
“Claire?” the voice went on. “It’s Tariq. I heard from Nasir. The bottle’s been found and opened. Zoraida is free. Mira and I need to talk to you. If Ashur’s still alive, Zoraida will most likely be sending him here. We need to formulate a plan. Call us back as soon as you can.”
The vibrations suddenly stopped, and the mattress bounced; then air rushed over Claire’s overheated skin, making her nipples even harder. The blindfold was yanked from her eyes before she realized what was happening.
Confused, she blinked several times against the flickering light. Looked up and around. But it was Ashur’s face hovering above her that brought everything into focus.
“What the hell was that?”
She was having trouble processing. She just wanted him to go on touching her. Why was he stopping when she was so close? “My…my answering machine.”
“Not the stupid box,” he snapped. He leaned close until his face was centimeters from hers. His enraged face. “What is my brother doing calling you by name?”
* * *
Her eyes grew wary. “Your…your brother?”
Grinding his teeth, Ashur pushed from the bed and moved away from her. The desire he’d been fighting back while he’d teased her was gone, replaced with a fury that filled the empty place beneath his breastbone and made his blood boil. He didn’t trust himself to touch her at the moment. His brother, who’d abandoned him to torture and death and betrayed their race for a human fucking woman, had just left a message on Claire’s answering machine.
“How do you know Tariq?” he growled. “What in all of Jahannam is going on?”
Her face paled. “I…I…oh, shit. He’s your brother? I…” Her eyes slid closed. “I didn’t know.”
Yeah, right. “Where is he?”
Her eyes popped open. He couldn’t read her expression, but he saw the worry lurking deep inside.
For herself? Or for Tariq? His fury rose higher. He moved back to the bed, leaned over her, willed himself not to snap like a Ghul. “Tell me!”
Her breasts rose and fell with her shallow breaths, but her eyes were wide and—this time—determined. “Release me first.”
He stared at her while his blood ran like a river of lava through his veins. She didn’t have any powers left—he’d figured that out in the last few minutes—so, bound or not, he was still in control. But at the moment, he didn’t give a flying rat’s ass about Zoraida’s punishment should he fail her so-called test. The revenge he’d been plotting for the last six months was at his fingertips.
He reached for the ropes at her ankles, untied the knots, then moved to her right arm. As soon as her wrist was free, she jerked it toward her body, rubbing the tender flesh against her stomach. He moved around the bed and freed the other side. Ropes dropped to the floor. She sat up and massaged the red marks at both ankles and wrists, then grasped a pillow and tossed it over her body to hide her naked breasts.
POSSESSED BY DESIRE Page 5
