Bound Hearts 01-12

by Lora Leigh

  Turning, Abram stalked from the room Khalid’s mother had once shared with his own mother for a short time. His own suite was above it with a private entrance to the secured quarters that had once held Azir’s harem.

  Abram moved up the stairs with a deliberately calm pace. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides while the tightening of his teeth actually had his jaw aching with a hard burn from the stress of the pressure.

  He needed to regain control. He needed to still the rush of adrenaline and come down from the high of the black icy fury that had filled him while he was with Azir.

  He had to do it before he made it to his suite, before he saw Paige.

  Because there was another side of the black ice.

  There were consequences to the thaw of that icy rage.

  And if he didn’t get a handle on it, then it would be Paige that felt the full force of it.

  Chapter 6

  The other side of black ice.

  Abram had been forced to learn to hold back that killing, murderous rage the day he found his mother beaten to death, and knew it had been Azir’s fists that had killed her.

  He remembered feeling it. Freezing, like shoving his entire body into an icy black nothingness and forcing himself to stay there rather than trying to find the man he called father to shove the knife his mother had given him straight into his black heart.

  How many times over the years had he wished he had done exactly that?

  Retribution would have been taken. He would have been punished severely, maybe even killed himself. But had he taken that punishment then so many other lives may have been saved.

  The Mustafa lands would have been saved for Abram as Azir’s legal heir, and Ayid and Aman would have been sent away to be raised by aunts and uncles who would not have pampered their criminal habits nor risked their own families to aid their terrorist proclivities.

  That icy nothingness had enveloped him, allowing him to see past the fiery, brutal pain and into the logic of his actions.

  Punishment for Azir would be so thorough, so perfect, if only he could follow through with it.

  Abram would be free of the land and the land itself would return to the monarchy and be given back to tribal control.

  But allowing Azir to live was becoming harder by the day. And today. He stopped as he reached the top of the stairs and stared down at the fist his fingers were still formed into.

  Today, he’d almost given in to the impulse.

  Today, he had almost become a murderer and God knew that wasn’t what he wanted. Not now, not this close to freedom. Because if he killed Azir, the monarchy would have no choice but to punish him. Jafar and his men, supposed members of the Mustafa family, would eagerly step forward and demand his punishment.

  Because Abram had plotted and worked against Jafar and Azir, and even though Khalid had taken responsibility for both Ayid’s and Aman’s deaths, there were those that suspected Abram had killed Aman.

  And they would have been right. Fortunately, there were very few who knew the actual truth, but if his half-brother’s co-conspirators had a chance to strike out in such a way, they would eagerly take it.

  There was no doubt that he had run out of time. He would have to find a way to get both Paige and Tariq out of Saudi Arabia and into America and take his chances there.

  He didn’t know what the hell Azir thought he could accomplish by kidnapping Paige and gifting him with her, or by “ordering” Tariq to aid him in whatever manner Abram required in bedding her. One thing was for damned sure, it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart.

  More likely, the minute he made his vow to the emissary both Jafar and Azir would have the authorities waiting to arrest him, Paige, and Tariq for sexual misconduct. And that was a killing offense.

  Tearing the keffiyeh from his head and bunching it in his hand, he inhaled deeply and moved slowly to the securely locked door of his bedroom suite.

  The electronic security was the only defense he possessed in the fortress now. There were less than half a dozen of the men that had once been loyal to him and Tariq. Those men couldn’t be identified or step forward publicly if anything happened because of their own families.

  He couldn’t trust the guards, and he couldn’t trust the men he had grown up with, or those he had attended college with who had returned to the Mustafa lands after him.

  Throughout his life there had only been Khalid, Tariq, and Paige that he could depend upon to accept him as he was. And two of those, Tariq and Paige, were awaiting him now.

  He was moving closer to the door, closer to the woman he hungered for with an irrational strength.

  Reaching the door to the suite he keyed in the code to the security lock, waited for the click to indicate the locks had disengaged, then stepped inside.

  The other side of black ice.

  The second he closed the door it kicked in.

  The black ice was cracking and burning inside him, heat whipping through his body as fiery, burning lust sizzled through the dark emotionless protective layer.

  In a single, blinding second the adrenaline switched gears. Murder wasn’t an option, but sex was.

  He couldn’t squeeze the life from Azir’s corrupt body, but he could allow Paige’s tight, hot little pussy to squeeze the release from his dick.

  Paige was there.

  Lush.

  Exotic.

  Sensual.

  With the sheet still her only covering, she was curled at the corner of the couch as Tariq sat in the chair opposite her. He leaned forward, his entire demeanor protective.

  Long, silken, red-gold curls cascaded around the bruised side of her face. The abraded, darkening flesh almost had him turning around and completing the murderous act, imagining Azir gasping for air as his eyes began to glaze in death.

  Emerald green eyes stared back at him in defiance, and always, always, in hunger. In that instant, just that fast, his cock was brutally hard, the need to fuck thundering through his body with a force nearly double what the drive to kill had been.

  This was the fallout. The other side of the brutal ice-encased fury was this overwhelming, desperate need to push every sexual boundary. To make his lover touch that point between pleasure and pain. To fuck her until none of them could move. And once his third had caught his breath, to begin again.

  And there was Paige. The object of every sexual fantasy he’d had since she had turned eighteen.

  The one woman he knew he should never touch.

  He was going to touch her.

  He was going to touch her in ways that would shock her, that would send her juices spilling hot and sweet from the swollen folds of her cunt.

  “Abram?” Tariq rose warily to his feet. “Is the situation being resolved?” Will Paige be sent home? Abram could see the question in the other man’s gaze. The worry and the concern. Oh yes, they both knew what Azir was doing, and they were going to have to figure out a way to put a stop to it.

  “I may need a third,” Abram answered, his gaze on Paige as her eyes widened in shock.

  She knew what he meant, and she knew exactly what he was going to need.

  She didn’t protest though, and she didn’t argue, she just stared back at him, wide-eyed and silent.

  And hungry.

  Oh hell yes, he glimpsed the sensual, sexual need that darkened her eyes and flushed her face and breasts.

  They had been dancing around this since the day she turned eighteen. He had stayed as far away from her as possible rather than introducing her to a hunger, a passion that he feared she wasn’t ready for. And now, there was simply no way to save her from it.

  “Leave,” he ordered Tariq, his tone guttural.

  It was an order Tariq was expecting. Abram was going to need a third, but this first time, this first touch, was all his. He shared his lovers, but still, he was a possessive bastard. He secured their affection as well as their arousal before he ever brought his t
hird into the bed.

  He waited, listening as Tariq strode across the room, opened the door, and stepped out.

  He would be going no farther than his own room across the stone hall in case he was needed.

  Paige’s fingers tightened on the sheet as though she feared he would jerk it away from her.

  “Abram?” She questioned when he didn’t say anything.

  She rose slowly to her feet, facing him, not just with a hint of wariness but also a blaze of need that rivaled his own.

  God help him, he hadn’t wanted it to come to this. Not here, and definitely not now.

  “You and Khalid shared Lessa, didn’t you?” she asked when he said nothing for several moments.

  “We shared Lessa,” he admitted. “And that is a subject we don’t need to discuss tonight, Paige.

  Tonight, there is only us.”

  And he believed that explanation was all she had to hear? She let her lips curl into a mocking, defiant smile. “You asked Tariq to be your third, Abram. I’m not a child, and I’m not completely ignorant of your sexual lifestyle. Don’t think you’re going to just push something like this on me and we won’t be discussing it.”

  He grimaced tightly. “This isn’t the best time to discuss anything, Paige,” he told her. “And I notice you’re not refusing.” His brow arched. “Do you think I’m not very well aware of the fact that if you weren’t dying for it then you’d put me in my place so fast it would make both our heads spin?” At least he knew a few of her incredibly talented abilities.

  She stared back at him warily though. Abram could never be accused of being predictable.

  “I’m not ready to allow anyone to touch you but me,” he stated. “Before we go further than you and me, we’ll discuss it, I promise. But now isn’t the time to do it. Now is the time to take that damned sheet off.”

  “Make me.” He was entirely too arrogant for his own good, and if she was going to handle even the most distant relationship with him then she would have to establish her own boundaries quickly.

  “What did you say?”

  She had heard him though. Shock filled her voice. It widened her eyes again, but her response flushed her face and her nipples were just barely detectable beneath the sheet over her chest.

  “Drop the sheet, Paige,” he growled, stepping closer to her, unable to keep any distance between them.

  He expected a fight. He thought she would curse. He was certain she would rage.

  What he didn’t expect?

  “Kiss my ass,” she scoffed. “Why don’t you try putting me on a plane home first? Then we’ll discuss the subject.” A graceful shoulder shrugged as she stared back at him challengingly.

  He had known she wouldn’t come easy. But that was just fine. Because he sure as hell never cared much for easy.

  “Then I guess I’ll just have to remove it myself.”

  Paige saw the battle raging within the rich black depths of his gaze. The taut expression of his face was primal, sensual. His lips had a more sexual, erotic curve. He suddenly looked like a sex god ready to seduce and ravish.

  A sensual, dark aura seemed to suddenly surround them, washing through her senses and sensitizing her, preparing her for his touch.

  She’d never felt anything like this at any time. She’d been dating for years. She’d dated some of the most arrogant, most dominant men in the world, but Abram had always had them all beat.

  Her hands tightened on the material of the silk sheet between her breasts. His gaze dropped to her fingers as he gripped the clasped ends at the front of his tunic-like robe and pulled at it, parting it to shrug it easily from his powerful shoulders.

  Dark, toughened skin stretched over powerful muscles.

  He kicked his boots off as he reached for her, then stood, simply staring down at her for long, heated moments.

  She expected seduction. Perhaps a bit of teasing. She should have known better.

  She didn’t expect what was coming. Before she realized his intentions he’d jerked her to him, lifting her, his lips coming down on hers with surprising gentleness. The certain, determined lick of his tongue against the seam of her lips surprised her into parting them. A quick indrawn breath, a wealth of pleasure, and he was inside.

  His lips slanted over hers, his head tilting as a moan escaped her throat and Paige knew she was on the losing end of determination this time.

  But this was Abram. She couldn’t say no to him, she had no idea how to do it.

  As his lips and tongue caressed and cajoled, she felt him holding her against him, her feet off the floor as he moved to the huge, silk-covered bed on the other end of the room.

  She had to force her eyes open as he laid her back on the bed, his hands catching her wrists as he forced them above her head. Holding her wrists to the mattress, his knee pushed between her thighs, parting them, the soft cotton of his loose trousers caressing the bare skin of her inner legs as he stared down at her with hungry demand. His knee pressed upward against her pussy, rubbing and grinding against her clit.

  The strong, heavy muscles were heated as she gripped the sides of his leg and arched to him.

  Each stroke against the swollen bud made her weaker, made her want to sink into the pleasure and never come up for reality.

  She felt her heart racing. Blood thundered through her veins, throbbing in her clit as she struggled against the hold he had on her.

  His head lowered once again, his lips careful in case her lips were sore. Thankfully, Azir had backhanded the side of her face, not her lips.

  He didn’t give her a chance to protest or enough breath to say no, and he made certain she was unable to outright reject him.

  Did she want to protest?

  Did she want to reject him?

  How was she supposed to know? He wouldn’t give her a chance to speak or a chance to think.

  But he let her feel.

  Paige moaned, the sound seeming torn from the depths of her soul as his lips rubbed against hers, possessed hers. Licks and nips and his tongue pumping into her mouth, stroking against her tongue and sparring with it as she strained to get closer and to take control of the sumptuous pleasure.

  The pleasure. She’d always wanted the pleasure of his touch, the exquisite ecstasy of his kiss.

  She swore pure white-hot flames were licking at her sensitive flesh and the delicate tips of her tight, hard nipples.

  Her clit was swollen, throbbing. She wanted to rub against the power of his heavy thigh, to ease the agony of need pounding at the bundle of nerves.

  His kiss was like a drug. It was addicting. She wanted more and he wasn’t giving it to her.

  Paige struggled against the hold on her wrists. Arching closer to the hard hips settling between hers, she cried out into his kiss as the thick, heavy length of his cock pressed into the folds of her pussy.

  “Oh God, yes. Abram, yes, please.” Tearing her mouth from his she gasped for breath, her head arching back as she rubbed her clit against the heavy head pressing into it.

  He was so hard and hot.

  Her pussy creamed heavily, her juices easing along the clenched muscles of her vagina and spilling to the thin, cotton-covered wedge of his cock as his hips rolled against her.

  Curling her fingers in pleasure as he continued to restrain her wrists, Paige lifted one leg, her knee bending to move closer and clasp his hip as he rubbed against her again.

  Her thighs clenched and tightened. The hunger for the rising orgasm was building inside her like a flaming conflagration she couldn’t control.

  And she didn’t want to control it. She wanted it to keep racing out of control, to keep burning through her and leaving every inch of her body so sensitive that each touch was rapture.

  Forcing her eyes open she stared up at him as his free hand caressed up her side to cup the curve of her swollen breast. The touch of his calloused palm had her nipple tingling almost painfully until the pad of his thu
mb stroked across it.

  “Oh yes,” she moaned as sensation raced straight to her womb where it clenched and sent a surge of electric ecstasy racing through her pussy.

  Each stroke of the roughened flesh against the tight bud of her nipple was an agony of pleasure.