Page 132 of To Tango, with Desire

It was his turn to shudder, and I realized he was holding back. His need was just as intense as mine.

“Amira,” he whispered. Dragging me down, his kiss was passionate and wild. When he ran his hand up my spine, fisting my hair in that way of his, I cried out. I missed this. I missed him.

“I’m gonna fill you up, my queen. Then when I’m done, I’m gonna eat you out, then do it all over again.”

“Holy shit.”

I shoved at his chest when he attempted to rise. “Lie back,” I commanded.

“Bossy. I like it.”

He hooked his hands beneath his head, muscles bulging. He looked every bit the satisfied male, and my heart squeezed at the sight.

Slowly, I lowered myself on his thick length, gasping with every glorious inch. It felt different. I couldn’t explain it, but the sensation of him buried inside of me was magnified. Was it because I was pregnant? Was it because of my feelings?

Rising over him, I took my time.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, lifting up on his elbows to suck on my nipples. I shuddered at his confession. It was as if every inch of my body had come alive at his touch.

“I don’t think I can hold on.”

“Then don’t, sweetheart.”

Arching back, I buried my fingers in my clit, desperate for release. And then I was shaking. Legs, body, soul shaking as I came. Sparks of light danced behind my closed eyelids, and all I could feel was the pulsing pleasure between my thighs.

In seconds, I was on my back. “Hook your legs around my waist.”

I did so, heart racing.

“I want to watch you when I make you come twice.”

It wasn’t bravado talking, but fact. Zane knew how to drive me to multiple orgasms. He could hear the increasing wetness, knowing just the right amount of pressure to apply to make me squirt.

He drove into me, hard and to the hilt, punishing in his pace and rhythm. The sounds of sex filled the room, and every thrust brought me closer to orgasm.

I gripped the bedsheets, my legs locked around his waist.

I was so slippery, so wet, I knew that I wouldn’t last very long.

Shifting the angle, Zane placed my legs on his shoulders, his palms on either side of the mattress.

“I can hear you, Amira. That sound . . . such a fucking turn-on.”

I was mesmerized by him, by the possessive look in his eyes, the sounds of pleasure from his lips. And that sound, that pure male groan of appreciation was all it took for me to come a second time. I gripped his biceps, succumbing to that need, to him.

“That’s it, my queen, come over my cock. I can feel you . . . so fucking hot.”

Wrapping my legs around his waist once more, he curled one arm under my back, holding me close. With his face buried in my neck, he pounded into me. I could feel the frenetic beating of his heart, my connection to him overwhelming.

And when he came, pulsing inside of me, I felt like nothing in this world could tear us apart.

I loved him.

Utterly. Completely.

I was so in love with him, I was sure it was written all over my face. But I didn’t care. At that moment, I couldn’t.

I held him close, not wanting this to end. I knew that whatever happened in this marriage that I would always remember this moment. Nothing in the world could take away this feeling.