Seduced by the Sultan Read Free Page A

molten flesh and she writhed a little as he pleasured her, before he withdrew one glossy finger and started licking it—with a slow eroticism which set her senses sizzling.
    ‘Oh,’ she said, her disappointment evident as he moved away from the bed.
    ‘Be patient, my little pussy Cat. And let me lose this damned suit.’
    Catrin squirmed with anticipation as she watched him undressing, revealing the magnificent body beneath. The olive-skinned perfection of his torso was marred only by a scar which arrowed across one side of his abdomen. When she had first seen it, she had run wondering fingers along the raised ridge and asked him whether he had sustained a wound in battle. And he had responded rather drily that it was the legacy of a childhood appendectomy, performed at the children’s hospital in Qurhah’s capital city of Simdahab.
    The rest of his clothes were quickly discarded and she saw just how aroused he was—his erection completely dominating her line of vision as he joined her on the bed. She could feel its hardness pushing against her belly as he leaned over her and ripped open her brassiere with a hunger he didn’t bother to hide.
    She told herself she should be despairing that yet another costly piece of lingerie would now be unwearable—but right then she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything except feeling him inside her again.
    What did he do that made her feel like this?
    What did he do that made her love him so?
    ‘Murat,’ she moaned, brushing her mouth over his jaw and feeling its rough graze beneath her lips. ‘Oh. Murat.’
    ‘What is it, my sweet?’ His deep voice shuddered with undisguised pleasure. ‘Tell me.’
    She wondered what he would say if she told him the truth. If she told him she wished he would confound the gloomy expectations of her mother and make a decent woman of her. She wondered how he’d react if he knew that night after lonely night, when he was back in Qurhah and she was lying alone in this great big bed—sometimes she allowed herself to fantasise about marrying him. About him taking her back to his desert country as his bride...his Sultana— where she would learn to speak his language and bear him fine, strong sons and live with him to the end of her days.
    She guessed that he would probably recoil with horror—and then she wouldn’t see him for dust. Because after more than a year of her being Murat’s mistress, any sign of commitment was just as distant as it had been when he’d plucked her from the valleys and brought her to London, quivering with passion and innocence and a fierce sexual hunger.
    He’d said from the start that there was no future in this relationship and that marriage was never going to happen. She’d known that when he took a bride, it would be one as unlike her as it was possible to be. And even though she’d told herself she was fine with that, sometimes she wondered if she was just kidding herself. Lately, she had found herself longing for some kind of commitment. For the comfort and security she’d never really had.
    But that was a waste of time and energy.
    ‘Would you like me to tell you how much I missed you?’ she said eagerly.
    ‘You may tell me whatever you please, my beauty—just as long as you let me reacquaint myself with these magnificent breasts of yours,’ he said, disposing of the now tattered brassiere with a careless flick of his fingers. ‘For I have been dreaming about licking them like this.’
    Catrin stifled a moan. ‘So have I.’
    ‘Shall I play with your pretty nipples?’ he continued. ‘Shall I lick them and suck them and make you wet in lots of different places?’
    ‘Oh, yes, please,’ she breathed.
    ‘And is there anything else I should do?’ His hand began to move down over the concave dip of her torso. She felt the exploratory caress of his palm as it skated over her belly, a forefinger briefly circling the faint dip of her navel before it continued its journey. ‘Anything else