Bound to Seduction

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tariq stared at Mira as her words sank in, and his pulse picked up speed.

She was willing to give up her wish all because she had standards. She wanted him—he could see it in her eyes, read it in her words—but she wasn’t going to force him. She was giving him an out, if he so chose.

Awe, admiration, and wonder swept through him once again. For a woman who was unlike any other he’d ever met.

All the resolve he’d come back here with, the intent to fulfill her wish, corrupt her soul as Zoraida wanted so he could move on and free at least one of his brothers, withered and died. How could he value one life over another?

Options raced through his mind as he stared at her. It was too late for him to free her from her wish. By calling him back, he was bound to her now until that wish was fulfilled. But…maybe there was a way to prolong it. Until, at least, he could come up with a better solution for all of them. Zoraida wouldn’t kill his brothers so long as he was here. Not when she needed Mira’s soul to strengthen her powers. And if he stayed with Mira, the witch couldn’t send Ghuls to influence Mira’s thoughts.

Staying took on a whole new appeal. Maybe they could just sit here and talk until he figured out what to do next.

“Tariq?”

Mira’s soft voice jolted him out of his thoughts, and he brushed a finger down her cheek before he thought better of it. “In my language, the word for teacher is mu’allim.”

“Mu’allim,” she repeated, drawing the word out. “I like that. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Her skin was silky smooth, and so pale next to his hand. Captivating. “You are beautiful, hayaati. And yes, I am extremely attracted to you. So much so that I left before not because I wasn’t interested, but because I knew if I didn’t leave then, I wouldn’t be able to stop touching you, stop tasting you. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop taking you.”

Heat flared in her eyes. Heat and desire and need. A need he could sate, right here and now. If, that was, he planned to corrupt her, which he couldn’t do anymore.

Keep talking. He had to keep talking so he didn’t reach for her.

“So much so,” he went on, thinking any words were better than none, “that the thought of you wanting to know how to please a man fills me with a jealous streak I’ve never experienced before. Djinn are not jealous creatures.”

A slow smile spread across her face, one that turned her from beautiful to downright gorgeous. She eased up on her elbows, maneuvered to sitting, and pulled her legs out of the way. “Is that so?”

“Yes, hayaati, it is.”

She moved before he even realized her intent. Pushed against his chest, sending him back onto the mattress. Then she leaned over him until her strawberry-blond hair fell around his face like a curtain. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

Holy Allah in heaven. No one had ever cared about pleasing him. In all the years he’d been Zoraida’s pleasure slave, his assignments had only ever cared about their own desires. His weren’t even an afterthought. “Mira—”

She brushed her lush lips against his throat. Tingles rushed through his body, speared straight into his cock. “Do you like to be kissed here?”

His resistance wavered as his eyes slid closed. “Um…”

“How about here?” She trailed her mouth up to his ear, laved her tongue across his lobe as he’d done to her.

Yes, yes. Allah, yes, he liked that. But he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be letting her kiss him or touch him at all. He should be trying to distract her. Words. He needed to use words to get things back on track.

He slid his hands to her biceps, pushed gently. “Mira—”

She ignored the move, kissed his jaw, his chin, worked her way back up to his mouth instead. “And what about here?” Her index finger trailed across his lips. “Do you like to be kissed here as well?”

Desire rippled through his chest, spread lower to engulf him in flames. “Yes, hayaati,” he whispered before he realized what he was saying. “By you, always there.”

Her mouth closed over his, just as he wanted, just as he’d dreamed. And though he knew he shouldn’t, he opened to her, stroked his tongue against hers, grew hot and achy at the need for her to touch him elsewhere. Everywhere.

With her it wasn’t forced. With her it was natural. With her it was not duty, but pure, erotic bliss. A bliss he hadn’t realized he’d missed until right now.

A ribbon of guilt wove through him. He thought of his brothers locked in their cells. Of Ashur being beaten. Of Nasir’s split lip and malnourishment. Why had he complained about his imprisonment? Their torture was a thousand times worse than his. Especially now, when he was being kissed by the most amazing creature he’d ever met.

She skimmed a hand down his chest while he explored every corner of her lips, her mouth, her teeth and tongue. Her fingers tangled in his shirt as he cradled her face. She tugged the shirt up, breaking the kiss long enough to drag it over his head, then closed her lips over his once more.

She threw the cotton on the floor at her back. Smiled down with that sexy, heated, all-consuming look. And desire bunched in his stomach as he watched. Followed by a swift slap of reality.

Words weren’t going to work anymore. She wanted him. As much as he wanted her. If he tried to stop things now, it would only result in her feeling rejected.

He never wanted to hurt her.

Indecision rippled through him. Power was something he’d been forced to relinquish long ago to Zoraida. But even with his assignments, he still maintained control. He gave them what they wished, but he did so at his leisure, tempted them in a way he knew would corrupt their souls just as Zoraida wanted. This time, though, he could give that control to Mira. If he played his cards right, he could give her what she wanted and protect her soul from Zoraida at the same time.

She slid down his body and pressed her lips to his chest before he’d even made up his mind. “I love how smooth your skin is here. I love how muscular you are.”

He closed his eyes as she kissed his pecs, as she lowered and laved her tongue across his left nipple, then his right. Electricity arced through his body, shot into his groin, made him harder than he was sure he’d ever been.

“Do you like this?” she asked, trailing hot, wet kisses down his abdomen. “Do you like my mouth on you?”

Allah, did he. “Hayaati—”

She moved lower, pushed her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. Then tipped her gaze up so seductively, a wicked shot of desire made him lift his hips and rub his aching cock against her breasts. “I want to taste you, Tariq. I want to feel you harden against my tongue. Is that okay?”

Okay? Okay? She wanted to know if that was okay?

He ground his teeth against the raging need but couldn’t stop himself from pressing up on his elbows so he could watch while she slid to the floor and maneuvered between his legs. Somehow, he found the strength to say, “I am yours to do with as you wish, Mira. Anything. Everything.”

Confidence burned in her eyes. A confidence that hadn’t been there before. She popped the button on his jeans. Slid the zipper over his erection. Looked up again with that sinful, sexy, seductive expression. “I want you to tell me what pleases you. Right now, I want to learn how to make you come.”

Just her words was enough to make him do nearly that. His erection twitched as she pressed her hands inside his jeans, ran them down his hips, pulled the garment from his legs, and let it drop to the floor.

She sucked in a breath when his cock sprang up, hard and pulsing and hot. Then licked her lips as if in anticipation of a wicked taste. “Commando. I like that. Tell me what to do, mu’allim.”

The word sounded dirty on her tongue. Nasty. Hotter than hell. His pulse grew faster.

This was about her, he reminded himself. About letting her have control, letting her take what she wanted. It wasn’t about him.

“Touch me,” he managed.

When her hand closed around his length, he nearly jumped. Her fingers were so dainty, her skin like silk. She moved her hand up, tightened at the head, then stroked him slowly.

“Do you like that?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Do you want more?” she said as she circled the head again, and tremors ran through his flesh. When he nodded once more, she added, “Tell me.”

He was in so much trouble here. He pushed his hips against her hand, groaned as her fingers slid down his length. “Taste me, hayaati.”

She smiled again, that Cheshire-cat grin he was growing to enjoy. And pleasure gathered in his groin as she leaned close, as her tongue flicked out to lick the tip, as the warm wetness of her mouth closed around his cock.

His eyes slid closed. He dropped his head back. Shuddered as she lowered and drew him deeper. Her tongue stroked the underside of his cock, her lips closed tight around his length. And when she suckled, he saw stars. He didn’t have to show her what he liked; she instinctively knew. Her hand stroked the base while her lips and tongue drove him completely mad. Then she drew him so deep he brushed her throat. He groaned in pure ecstasy.

“Allah, Mira. Just like that. Deeper.”

Her mouth was like nothing he’d ever felt. And the fact she was doing this for him, when she didn’t need to be, only amped his arousal. Her free hand brushed his thigh while she suckled, moved to his lower belly. The touch sent shards of electricity racing along his nerve endings. His balls tightened, and pleasure zinged down his spine. And when she groaned around his cock, sending vibrations through every bit of his flesh, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.

“Mira…” He threaded his fingers in her long hair, rubbed her skull as she continued to push him closer to the edge. Her free hand slid down his hip and brushed his inner thigh, then gently squeezed his balls.

“Mira—”

He tried to pull free of her mouth, but she clamped on tighter with her lips, sucked harder. And then it was too late. He couldn’t do anything except shudder and groan as pleasure slammed into him and stole his breath.

The pressure eased around his cock. She continued to stroke him slowly as he came down the other side of the best orgasm of his life, her teasing tongue flicking the head, making him shudder all over again. When she finally let go, he blinked several times, looked up, and watched as she swallowed, then grinned with the wickedest of smiles.

“Did I do a good job? Did you like that?”

He answered by levering up off the bed, closing his arms around her, taking her down to the mattress, and kissing her flushed, swollen, insanely erotic lips.

She groaned as she opened to him, as she wrapped her arms around his back and eased her legs apart so he could sink against her body. He tasted himself and the wine she’d sipped earlier. And a hunger like nothing he’d tasted before.

Thought fled. Need consumed him. He pushed her shirt up, palmed her breast. Loved that she wasn’t wearing a bra under the thin cotton T-shirt. She arched her back, kissed him harder. But she was wearing too many clothes. There wasn’t nearly enough skin.

“Mira.” He pulled back, dragged her torso off the bed, and stripped the shirt over her head, then threw it on the floor. “Need you naked.”

She giggled, reached for him as soon as her shirt was gone, and brought her mouth back to his. “Yes,” she whispered against his lips, lifting her hips as he pushed his hand into the waistband of her jeans and slid it around to cup her ass. “Naked.”

He kissed her again and again, squeezed her ass, pressed his renewed erection against her mound. He wanted to draw out the foreplay, to make her writhe as she’d made him writhe, but all he could focus on was getting inside her. Finding out if she was as tight and wet as he knew she’d be.

He dragged his mouth from hers, kissed her ear, her throat, breathed hot against her breasts as he flipped the button on her jeans and dragged the denim from her legs.

She was as beautiful as he remembered. Pale, soft, her hips flared just right, her waist trim, her breasts the perfect size for his hands. For his mouth.

He closed his lips around her right breast, suckled the tip. Shuddered when her fingernails scraped his skull and she dropped her head back, arching toward him and groaning all over again.

“Have to be inside you, hayaati.” He moved to her other breast.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Want to feel you come around me.”

“Oh yes.” She lifted her hips.

“I want you on your hands and knees, offering yourself to me.”

She trembled, groaned, squeezed her knees against his sides. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He was too far gone to think. To stop. To wonder why she was willing to do anything he wanted. He eased away, flipped her to her stomach. Brushed her hair to one side and pressed his lips to the nape of her neck.

She shuddered, moaned. Pulled her knees up under her and pushed up to her hands. And when she looked back over her shoulder with nothing but lust in her eyes, the last of his resistance broke.

He knelt on the bed behind her. Trailed his hand down her spine. She closed her eyes, pushed back against him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her upper body back flush with his. His cock pressed against the cleft of her ass as she gripped the wrist at her waist to balance herself. He kissed her ear, nipped at the lobe. Whispered, “Spread your knees.”

She did as he asked, and he skimmed his free hand down her stomach, into her curls, then finally brushed his fingers across her sex.

He’d given lots of pleasure during his years in prison, but this was the first time giving pleasure brought pleasure to him. He felt every wicked burn of desire as he slid his fingers along her wetness, circled her clit, then dipped lower to press inside.

“You are so tight, hayaati,” he whispered in her ear as he pushed in with one finger, felt her clamp on tight, then slid out again. She dropped her head back against his shoulder, moaned, and rocked her hips against his hand. “Do you like that? Do you like me fucking you like this?”

“Yes, yes. God, yes.”

“Do you want more?”

She swallowed. Nodded. Gripped his wrist tighter at her waist.

“Tell me.”

“I want all of you, Tariq. I want you inside me.”

He closed his mouth over hers, kissed her deep, then let go. She fell to her hands on the mattress. He moved in closer, palmed her ass with one hand while he stroked her sex with the other. When she moaned and pressed back against him, he wrapped his hand around his cock and guided it toward her sex, stroking her with the tip until she shuddered.

Heaven. It was the only thought he had as he sank into her wetness. As he pulled out, then pushed in again. Her whole body tightened. She shifted back to meet his thrusts. Groaned again and again as their coupling picked up speed.

He felt himself slipping. Felt his control loosening. And knew—for the first time ever—what it was like to be on the other side. To be the one who was tempted, influenced, driven to do things he wouldn’t otherwise do. A blinding desire to take her harder, to use her in any way he wanted overwhelmed him. To disregard her wants and needs in favor of his own. This was what he did to the humans he granted wishes. This was the way he corrupted. By giving them a taste of something erotic, then twisting it until that desire consumed them.

The realization slammed into him, stole the air from his lungs. He gasped, pushed away from Mira, tried to slow his racing pulse as he dropped back to sit on the side of her bed.

Mira turned, looked at him with half lust, half surprise. “Tariq? Is everything okay?”

No, everything was most definitely not okay. His chest was strung tight as a drum, his ears were ringing, and he was pretty sure those were spots firing off behind his eyes. Not to mention, every soul he’d ever corrupted was flashing in his brain. “I…I’ll be fine. In a minute.”

Mira scooted closer. Soft fingers brushed his bare thigh. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t do anything. It was me. I—”

His words cut off when he looked at her—really looked at her—and saw her for the first time. So honest. So real. So unlike any other person he’d ever met. It was as if he could see her soul for what it was. And it wasn’t tainted. It wasn’t black. It was…pure.

“You what?”

“I…” His brow dropped low. “Who are you, Mira Dawson?”

A slow, winsome smile spread up her face. “I’m just a woman.”

But she wasn’t. She was more than that. For whatever reason, she was special.

He kissed her. Slowly. Gently. Unable to do anything but touch his mouth to hers. She groaned against his lips, slid onto his lap, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

He opened to her, didn’t try to stop her when she pushed him to his back, when she levered herself over him. When her hand stroked his cock and she positioned it back at the entrance to her body.

“Mira,” he whispered.

Slowly, she sank down, and they both groaned as he filled her. Arousal flushed her cheeks a warm pink. She rocked against him, pressed her hands to his chest. Never once looked away as she rode. And as his orgasm barreled close, he brushed the hair back from her face and knew, wherever he went, no matter how long he was chained to Zoraida, he would always remember this moment. Of finally being wanted. Not for what he could do but for who he was. Of finally doing the right thing in the sea of all the bad he’d ever done.

“Tariq…” Her rocking picked up speed. She grew tighter, hotter, wetter.

He sat up so he could taste the pleasure from her lips when it hit. “Yes, hayaati. Ride me. Take me. Come for me.”

Her mouth dropped open. A long groan echoed from her chest. He captured it with his mouth, kissed her deep again and again as he lifted his hips, as he thrust deeper, as he tried to milk every inch of desire from her before it was over.

Electricity raced through each cell in his body while she rode the wave. And before he realized it was coming, his own orgasm slammed into him. Stole his breath. Made those stars he’d seen earlier explode in a mountain of fireworks. Everywhere. Until want and need and dreams and wishes all condensed into a hot, burning point of light that sucked up everything in one giant vortex of pleasure.

Mira collapsed against Tariq and tried to drag air into her lungs. His chest rose and fell with his own rapid breaths, and both their bodies were coated in a sheen of sweat. Sweat that felt way too good.

Pleasure still radiated everywhere—even in her fingers and toes—and she smiled as she remembered how easily she’d made him come with her mouth. How easily he’d made her come with his body.

“I…I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Tariq’s voice vibrated from his chest into her ear, and she pushed back, smiled down at him. Her heart turned over as she stared into his eyes. A reaction that both surprised and confused her. “No, you didn’t hurt me. In fact, I think you might have fixed me.”

He darted a look around the room, and the way his eyes changed from lazy to on guard brought a rush of worry that chilled her skin. Were those Ghuls back? Had he seen something?

He rolled her to her back, pushed up on his hand. A wave of disappointment washed over her as he slid from her body. “Don’t say that. Not yet, hayaati.”

She still didn’t know what “hayaati” meant. She’d have to look that up. And she wasn’t sure why he didn’t want her to say he’d fixed her. But as he climbed off the bed and pulled on his jeans, the fear in his voice registered. Followed by an understanding that dawned bright in her mind.

If her wish was complete, their time together was over. He didn’t want it to be over.

Warmth replaced the chill. She slid to the end of the bed, reached for his T-shirt from the floor before he could pull it on. “I didn’t say I was done with you, Tariq.” She tugged the shirt over her head, let it drop to her thighs. Loved how it smelled like him. “I said you might have fixed me. Not that you did.”

He stopped. Looked back at her. Then a relieved smile spread across his face, just before he eased down and kissed her, pushing her to the mattress once more and driving her wild with his mouth. When he eased back, she saw approval in his dark eyes. “You are unlike any woman I have ever met.”

She liked that. Liked it a lot, actually. She fingered his bicep. He was so muscular. Cut. Hot. “I think there’s still lots more I need to learn. This was great and all, but I don’t think I’ll be done with you until I know I can pleasure you without you having to tell me what to do.”

“That could take a while,” he teased.

“Could take a long while.” She smiled. “I’m thinking we might need another session right now.”

One dark brow lifted. “Right now? Are you ready for that so soon?”

She brushed her hand down his spine and gripped his ass through his jeans. “I’m definitely ready for it. The question is, are you? You’ve already had two orgasms. You might need to gather your strength.”

He chuckled. “I am djinn, hayaati. Can’t you feel that I am ready?”

She did feel it. He was hard against her thigh already. Arousal tingled between her legs once more.

She lifted her head. Pressed her mouth to his. Mumbled, “You dressed way too quickly.”

He chuckled again. Slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her deeper. She opened to him, drew his tongue into her mouth. Groaned at the slick, dark taste of him all over again. “I want you to stay with me tonight, Tariq. All night.”

His eyes flashed in approval, and he pushed his hips against hers in a wicked way that made her downright crazy. “I’m yours. Anything you want. Everything. You only have to ask.”

She smiled. Lifted to kiss him again. But as her lips met his, something changed. She felt it in the way he pulled back. Saw it in the surprise in his eyes. Smoke spiraled in the room. He looked down as it whipped in a tornado around his body.

“Tariq?” She pushed up from the mattress as he was lifted off her.

“It’s all right, hayaati,” he said in a calm voice. A too calm voice. “I’m being called back.”

Called back? No, that wasn’t part of her wish. “Tariq—”

“I will return, hayaati.”

She reached out to him, but the smoke rose over his head, covering him from view before her fingers could reach his. And then it spun so fast, the force of the wind blew her hair back from her face.

In seconds, he was gone. Nothing to show he’d ever been there except for the thin blue T-shirt she was now wearing.

That and the ache between her legs. The one that only left her wanting more.