Second Touch (Emma's Arabian Nights, #2) (13 page)

He pulled back and the darkness that flitted through his gaze dissipated, a broad smile curving his kissable lips. “Sounds good to me, my girlfriend.”

For the rest of the drive back to her house she stared out the window, her mind a million miles away as she absorbed the unbelievable changes in her life. A little bit ago she’d been bordering on slipping into a soul-crushing depression, unable to think of how she could have Ryan and care for her parents, but in one fell swoop, everything changed. To say she was happy was an understatement; she was practically glowing with joy. When they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment she didn’t wait for Ryan to open the door before she ran into his arms, then grabbed his hand and dragged him after her through the parking lot and into her apartment in record time while he laughed behind her.

After tossing her keys somewhere in the direction of the kitchen, she attacked him with a kiss that was hot enough to melt iron.

She slammed him back against the wall and raised his arms over his head, holding him pinned there while she rubbed up against him and moaned. He was hard, like a steel bar behind the soft leather of his pants. The skin above his wrists was still slightly oily and she smiled at him as he gave her a rather bemused look. “Shower time.”

Giggling, she led him to the small bathroom attached to her bedroom and they quickly stripped, barely taking their eyes off each other as her heart practically sang with happiness. He was hers, really hers, and she could belong to him without hurting her parents. Once they were both nude she turned on the water, shivering as he kissed her neck while they waited for it to warm up. Once they stepped into the shower Ryan hissed and she winced. “Sorry, love, I forgot about your welts.”

He swallowed hard and shifted so the water wasn’t directly on his back. “I’m okay.”

“Hold on a sec.”

She jumped out of the shower, her nipples beading as the cold air hit them, the water dripping from her body onto the tile floor as she searched her medicine cabinet. She hopped back into the shower with a bottle.

He glanced down at the bottle then back up at her. “What’s that?”

Squirting a generous amount of the special soap into her hand she said, “Turn around.”

With an arched brow he complied and she couldn’t help but feel an odd mixture of guilt and pride at the welts covering him. It wasn’t, by far, the worst beating she’d ever given a man, but it was the first time she’d marked Ryan. Just the memory of how amazing he’d been while taking his flogging sent a renewed rush of lust through her.

“This is a special anti-bacterial soap. I bit it on a patch of ice in the parking lot last winter while wearing a skirt. Scraped the hell out of my knee and leg, and the hospital gave me this soap. It won’t sting, but it will help keep any of these welts from getting infected.”

He tried to look over his shoulder as she soaped him up. “How bad is it?”

“Not bad.” She traced her finger over the pattern of a lotus blossom in his back tattoo. “I made sure that I didn’t hit hard over your ink. Most of your welts are on this delicious butt and these yummy thighs of yours. Speaking of which, put your hands on the wall and bend forward slightly. I need to take care of your ass.”

His immediate tension made her grin, but he did as she said. Sliding her soap coated finger between the cheeks of his ass she gently massaged the still tender tissue of his anus, enjoying his groan that was part pleasure, part discomfort. Ryan had looked so fucking sexy while he ate her pussy and Chris had fucked him with the butt plug. There was something about watching two, raw Alpha males playing together that did it to her every time, but she wondered how Ryan felt about it.

“Were you okay with Master Chris playing with you?”

His butt clenched around her finger and he said in a low voice, “My Mistress’s pleasure is my pleasure.”

She gave his ass a slap with her other hand, making sure she hit a welt so it would sting. “Honesty, Ryan. Don’t try to hide behind flowery bullshit. I need to know if you enjoyed it or if it’s something you’d rather not do again.”

He blew out a harsh breath. “I don’t know.”

The vulnerability in his voice called to her and she gently rinsed him clean. “What do you mean?”

“Everything was so…intense that anyone touching me at that point would have felt good. But I don’t think I could go any further than that with a guy.”

“Understood. And what about Tanya? Did you enjoy her oral skills?”

He actually shivered and she had to fight a laugh. “That woman has no gag reflex.”

“She used to, but Master Chris taught her how to suck dick. That’s why she’s so good at it, she learned from the best.”

Ryan grunted and she smiled as she knelt to wash his legs. “Master Chris also taught her how to lick a man’s ass until he comes from that stimulation alone.”

“Are you trying to hook me up with Master Chris?”

She stood and gently turned him, getting an eyeful of his thick erection before lacing her arms around his neck and rubbing her hips against his, trapping his cock against her stomach. “No…well, maybe. But don’t worry, it’s more of a fantasy than anything else. If it doesn’t turn you on it won’t turn me on. I think it’s a matter of enjoying the forbidden, the taboo. In this case, a very straight guy being seduced by a skilled bisexual man.”

He grunted and she could read the war between desire and uncertainty in his dark, expressive eyes. Water beaded on his sinfully long eyelashes and her gaze fell to his full lips. “How did you like Tanya sucking me off, Mistress? I take it you weren’t jealous?”

“Oddly enough, no. If it had been Moira or any of those envious bitches that were watching I might have snatched them bald, but Tanya? She’s different. She loves sex for the sake of sex, but she is completely devoted to Chris and Moira.”

“Are they a couple?”

“Who? Chris and Moira? No, not at all.” She laughed. “Whatever that chemistry is that people that are attracted to each other share, they have none. Moira once said that when she tried to kiss Chris it was like kissing her brother and Chris said pretty much the same. They just aren’t attracted to each other even though they’re both highly sexual people in their own right.”

“So Tanya is like the glue that binds them together?”

“Yes.”

He lifted a bottle of her vanilla body wash from the shelf and squeezed it into his hands, lathering up before he moved her back so he could begin washing her. “What about when they want to get serious? Like what if Chris wants to marry Tanya and have little pink haired babies?”

She grinned then shrugged, enjoying the wet glide of his hands over her breasts, the brush of his calloused palms against her nipples. “I don’t know. They aren’t traditional by any means and I don’t know if that conversation has ever come up. I can tell you this, I don’t think I can ever picture Moira donning a white dress and trotting down the aisle.”

His touch slowed as he soaped up her hand, taking it in both of his and massaging the pad of her thumb while he washed her. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

His gaze met hers and her breath caught in her throat as she read the intense emotions there before he looked away again. “Think you could ever wear a white dress?”

“If the right guy asked me, after we spent a good amount of time dating, I might.”

Releasing her hand he gently turned her so he could wash her back. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen. Think I might have a chance to get up inside it someday?”

She shivered as he ran his hands over her buttocks, enjoying the proprietary squeeze he gave them. “Only after I take you first so you know what to do.”

The warmth of his laughter washed over her like the water, and he pulled her back against his body, cupping her breasts and rubbing the tips with his thumbs. “Mmmmm, I can assure you that I know what to do. I can make it so good for you that you’d be begging me to put my cock in your round butt, pleading with me to fuck you harder, deeper.”

“Really?” She’d meant for her voice to come out as sarcastic, instead it came out breathy with desire.

“I promise.” He moved her wet hair to the side and licked the water off the banging pulse of her neck. “I’d spend at least a week working you up to taking my cock, using my fingers, toys, and my tongue to get you ready for me.”

“Hmmm.” She melted back into his embrace, enjoying his strength and the way his lips moved over her skin.

With a soft chuckle he moved her to the side so he could turn off the water. “Come on, Mistress, let’s get you in bed.”

They quickly toweled off and he gave her the bad boy grin that made her heart race. “Can I stay the night? Please?”

She hadn’t intended on him leaving, needed him here with her, craved the feelings of his arms wrapped around her while they slept, but she wasn’t going to let him know that.

“Do you snore?”

“Nope.” He grinned again. “Do you?”

“Nope. Do you hog the sheets?”

“Nope. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll just have to make sure to keep you close to me so you share.”

She led him to her bed with a laugh, and turned on the low light on the side table. Her queen size bed actually took up most of the space, allowing room only for a narrow dresser, but she loved it. The brass headboard had been her grandmother’s and the pink, green and white star pattern quilt that her mother had made her covered the bed. Ryan traced his fingers over the pattern. “Did your mom make this?”

She looked up at him as she tossed the decorative white lace pillows to the floor. “Yeah, how did you know?”

His gaze grew distant and he gave a sad smile as he traced the pattern. “You probably don’t remember this, but my mom and your mom were part of the same quilting circle. I recognize the pattern.”

She could vaguely remember her mom having a group of women over to the house a couple times a month for a quilting bee, but since it hadn’t interested her, she never really paid much attention. “I didn’t know that.”

He shrugged, then gently pulled the quilt back and slid beneath the white sheets with a sigh. “Nice. Why is it that women know how to make their beds so comfortable? I swear no matter what I do I can’t get the same feeling in my bed.”

Picking up the last decorative pillow she whacked him. Then she took a clean towel and laid it over her pillow before turning off the light and joining him. “I don’t want to hear about you in other women’s beds.”

“Come here,” he tugged her to his side and she spread her damp hair over the pillow.

She curled up next to him and lightly traced the muscles of his chest with her fingertips, at once keyed up and exhausted. “Did your mom ever make you a quilt?”

His laughter vibrated through his chest and against her cheek. “Oddly enough, no. My mom made quilts for people who needed them.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother was adamant about giving back and helping those who’d fallen on hard times. Back in Saudi Arabia my mother’s family was very active in their local community helping out the poor, especially widows. It’s hard for us to understand here in the States, but over there if a woman doesn’t have a man heading her household it is very difficult for her. Women aren’t even allowed to drive.”

“Is it a religious thing?”

“Yes and no. I’d say it’s more cultural than religious.” He sighed and lifted his arm to stroke her shoulder. “I’ve only been to Saudi Arabia a couple times with my mother and while it’s a different world, it is also very beautiful and very patriarchal. That’s part of the reason my grandparents came to the United States. My grandmother is a strong woman and she was getting in trouble with the local authorities for being too domineering. Her first husband died and her father-in-law tried to claim guardianship over her and the business she helped her late husband run. In order to avoid this she married a boy from her tribe that she’d been in love with since they were children, but had been unable to marry because she’d been betrothed. Fortunately, her new husband liked the fact that she was a strong, independent woman so he gave her a lot more freedom than was allowed at that time, which got them in trouble with the local
mutaween
.”

“What’s that?”

“They’re like the religious police in Saudi Arabia. In theory, they make sure people are following Islamic law. Because
sharia
is so open to interpretation, and because absolute power corrupts absolutely, they are more often a hindrance than a help. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but my grandmother was publicly beaten for breaking one law or another.”

“For real?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why didn’t your grandfather stop them?”

“If he had interceded, he could have gone to jail and then things would have gotten much, much worse. So in 1968 my grandparents packed up their house, their kids, and sold everything they could, then moved to Michigan where one of my great uncles was already living. There they opened their own grocery store which is still run by my family to this day.”

“Wow, your grandmother sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She is, but she’s also a total ball buster.” He laughed, then yawned. “I’d like to take you to meet her, to meet all of my mother’s family, though I will warn you some of my uncles are assholes. They won’t like you because you’re very much an American woman and they believe I should find a nice Saudi girl to marry.”

“Every family has their share of assholes. Shit, I’m sure I have family members that won’t like you because you have a Middle Eastern background even though you grew up in the same town I did and are about as American as apple pie.”

He turned to his side and tugged her closer until they were pressed together and she twined her legs around his thickly muscled calves. “Emma, thank you for tonight. Thank you for letting me sleep with you, and thank you for giving me a chance. I was afraid you were never going to see me again.”

Unable to face the intensity of her feelings, she cuddled closer so her cheek rested against his chest. “I wanted to see you, but I was having a really hard time dealing with trying to balance my work and you.”