Sheikh's Secret Triplet Baby Daughters Read online

  There were a thousand and three reasons to say no.

  Instead, Myriah laid her hand in his and felt a deep warmth flood through her very being.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Myriah

  The penthouse was a reflection of the man who owned it. It was dark and austere, expensive as hell, and gorgeous in a way that Myriah felt she couldn’t possibly be allowed to touch. As she watched, Halil pressed a button and the shutters of one curved wall parted, revealing the sparkling lights of Ealim far below them.

  Despite the excitement which threaded through her, Myriah couldn’t resist going to stand at the window, to drink in the beauty of the world around her.

  “I can’t believe I’m here with you again.”

  Myriah didn’t realize that she was speaking out loud until she heard Halil chuckle softly in her ear. He had moved so quietly that she’d barely realized he was behind her, but she didn’t turn around to him. It was too delicious to feel him standing so close to her, his chest against her back, his mouth just inches from her ear.

  “I never thought I would see you again,” he murmured. His voice sent a tickle of electricity up her spine, and she laughed a little. This all felt so intense.

  “Don’t tell me that you ever thought of me after London,” she said with a soft laugh. “It’s . . . a pretty fantasy, but you don’t have to lie to me . . .”

  “You know, there are consequences for calling the Sheikh of Ealim a liar.” The delicate menace in his voice took her breath away. She knew she should turn to confront him now, to tell him that they really shouldn’t fib to one another, but the rapid thumping of her heart refused to do anything that might pull her away from him.

  “Are there?” she said, and she could almost feel his sharp white grin at her ear.

  “Oh yes.”

  She wondered if he would elaborate on it, but then he was pushing her forward, one strong hand between her shoulder blades. Myriah made a soft sound as she was tilted toward the glass, and then he took her hands and laid them on the glass itself.

  “Are you afraid of heights?”

  “No-oh . . .”

  “Well, for your sake, gorgeous girl, I hope you are telling the truth.”

  Myriah’s stomach lurched as she gazed out over the city below her. The glass was so clear that if she wasn’t thinking about it, it felt as if she were leaning out over nothing at all, and a delicious burst of fear and excitement flowed over her.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she asked, but there was a note of eagerness in her voice that they both heard.

  “Perhaps I will teach you something about consequences.”

  Myriah tried to twist around to look at him, but he made a soft tsking sound, cupping the back of her head with his large hand.

  “No. Keep looking out over the city. Think about what it might be like if anyone could see you standing there, taking what I’m about to do to you.”

  “What you’re—”

  Her question was cut off as Halil slowly, oh so slowly, started to tug up her skirt. It was a long skirt, falling all the way to her ankles, and as he pulled it up, she could feel her long, bare legs being revealed inch by inch. When she thought of how pale they would be in this dim light, how little there was between her and Halil, she made a soft and hungry sound, her eyes drifting shut for just a moment.

  “So beautiful like this,” Halil purred. “So lovely and perfect, just for me in this moment.”

  He spread his hand over her thigh, just above her knee, and Myriah whimpered a little at the heat of it and how it warmed her. That was even before his hand started to drift upwards, his other hand tugging her skirt to lay it almost delicately along her back.

  “Oh!” Myriah whispered as Halil paused.

  “Look at how lovely you are,” he said after a moment, and she could almost feel his gaze.

  It wasn’t like she was wearing lingerie. She was working all week, and who the hell had time for lace? However, she knew that the black panties she preferred were cut high, she knew how they stretched across her rear, and now she imagined that Halil was gazing at them and how they covered (or, well, didn’t cover) her.

  She wiggled a little when she felt his hand pass over the curves of her rear. The other stayed at the small of her back, resting just comfortably enough that she could think it was meant to keep her calm. Her memories of her time with Halil were coming back, however, and she knew that hand which was resting so comfortably on her back could be just as easily moved to the back of her neck or her shoulders, could keep her in place while she thrashed and wriggled to the sensations he was causing in her body.

  “It’s still not quite right yet,” Halil murmured, and that was all the warning she got before she felt him twist his fingers in her underwear.”

  “Halil!”

  Her cry turned into a yelp of surprise when he simply tore the panties from her body. There was a brief second of excruciating pressure as the fabric cut into her plush curves, and then there was nothing as the tiny scraps of fabric fell down around her ankles.

  “You owe me a new pair of panties,” she managed to get out, and Halil laughed.

  “I’m sure I do. “Let’s see if I can make up for them in some small way . . .”

  She started to respond with something sharp and rather tart, but then she gasped as his hand came up between her thighs. She clenched her legs around his hand for a moment, more for the delicious feel of him being there with her than to stop him, and she heard him made a soft noise of disapproval, still tinged with amusement.

  “I like being able to access what is mine, even if it is only mine for a night,” he murmured. “Surely you remember that . . .”

  Myriah whimpered as his foot came forward, nudging her feet apart. She was slightly startled when she realized how wide he wanted her stance, and then when his hand came up again, she wasn’t surprised at all. With her legs so far apart, her thighs slightly straining, there was no way for her to close herself against him. She briefly felt a small chill against her most private flesh, felt how cool the air was against her, but then his hand came up to cup her intimately and she forgot everything else.

  At first, Halil was slow and almost shockingly gentle. All he did was cup her, his fingers tickling at the scanty hair there. There was no urgency about his touch at all, nothing that made her do more than shift back against him, sighing at that simple pleasure.

  It had been so long since she had been touched like that, since she had even touched herself like that. The warmth of someone else’s hand, someone else’s tenderness, struck to the very heart of her being, and she looked blindly out over the city, Halil’s city.

  “So soft and beautiful to touch, my gorgeous girl . . .”

  Slowly, almost as an afterthought, he started to glide one finger along her slit, finding it and tracing it back to front. Sooner than Myriah herself would have thought possible, she was moving with him, shifting back against his hand and even pressing down against the slight pressure he was offering.

  Soon though, she knew that it wasn’t enough. The light touches, tantalizing at first, were now almost maddening as the need that Halil had kindled so very expertly inside her grew stronger and brighter.

  “I want more,” she said, only realizing how very imperious she sounded after she heard her own words.

  “Do you?” Halil asked with interest. Despite the humorous sadism of his words, she could hear a tremble underneath it, and she knew as she knew her own name that he wanted her, wanted her so very badly.

  “I do,” she said, swallowing hard. She gazed out over the city, because she knew turning to look at Halil would only take her words away, make her moan with need for him.

  “I want you to see how ready I’m beginning to get for you. I want you to touch me, to remember me, to make me feel good because I will make you feel so very, very good . . .”

  Halil’s breath caught in his throat, but his fingers continu
ed their steady course.

  “Myriah . . .”

  The way he said her name was like a warning and a plea, and somehow, somehow, Myriah managed to open her legs just a little wider. This made Halil’s fingers drift just a bit deeper, and they both moaned when he touched her sleeker depths.

  “You feel like paradise,” Halil murmured, and all Myriah could offer was a soft groan in response.

  She could almost feel him trembling with need behind her, almost feel the hardness of his cock as he pressed closer to her, the firm flesh hot against her bare thigh even through his trousers. Still, despite all of that, he kept touching her with that relentless gentleness until she was gritting her teeth and pressing her palms hard into the glass.

  “I think . . . I want you more bare than this.”

  She started to ask him what he meant, but then he was pulling her up and dragging her to him. There was a moment where everything was a blur of motion. She saw a flash of his dark and tumultuous gaze, and then he was kissing her, one hand knotted in her hair, his mouth on hers as though he could not breathe without it

  She caught her breath as his tongue swept into her mouth, and she groaned because oh yes, she remembered this. She remembered how it had been with him, and more than that, her body remembered. It felt good, so achingly good that she cried out in a panic of loss as he pushed her back.

  “I have to have you,” he growled. “I need all of you.”

  She might have asked him what he meant by that, but then his hands went up to the collar of her dress. There was a rough purring sound of ripping fabric, and it fell down to the ground around her feet. One moment, she was clothed, and the next she was naked. It was simple. Why was life so simple when she was with him? Why did things make so much sense when he had his hands on her?

  “Your bra,” he growled. “I would tear that off of you as well, but I remember that you had feelings about that . . .”

  “Damn straight,” Myriah retorted, aware of a breathlessness in her voice. “These cost good money, and they’re kind of hard to find in my size . . .”

  She could tell that Halil’s patience wouldn’t last forever, however, and she worked the hooks free with trembling fingers. She didn’t want to be clothed, not with him, not in front of this man. When she dropped her bra away, she stood in front of him, and a silence came across them.

  Myriah was aware of herself in a way that she hadn’t been a moment before. When she was bent over and pressed against the glass, she had been nothing but a pile of sensation, nothing but nerves strung end to end. Now, in the soft light of the penthouse, she became aware of how different she was from the last time they had made love.

  One thing that was the same, however, was the heat which seemed to consume the way Halil was watching her, how the hunger strung through his muscular frame would allow for nothing else.

  “Don’t be shy, my darling,” he said, his voice a rough growl. “Not now. Not when you are so exposed to me . . .”

  “I’m . . . different . . .”

  “You are you, and that is beautiful. That is what I want most.”

  She wondered at the honesty in his voice, but then when he reached out to drag her close to him again, the heat came up, and all the doubts and fears she might have had went up in smoke.

  His mouth was delicious and familiar, and she didn’t realize she’d spent so very much time missing it, missing the weight of his body against her and relishing the strength of him. When Halil crushed her to his muscular frame, she gasped a little at the roughness of his clothes against her skin, but all that really mattered was being enveloped by him, being held so close and so tightly by Halil that nothing else in the world mattered. Nothing could reach her, nothing could hurt her, and she clung to him and his blissful intoxication.

  She whined a little when his wet mouth traced its way down her throat, and then to her shock, he was kneeling in front of her, his hands touching her everywhere, cupping her breasts, sliding over the dip of her waist to land on her thighs.

  “Halil!”

  “Lean back against the glass, legs open,” he growled, and there was no way in the world that she was going to deny him, not when there was such a rough promise in his voice.

  Myriah gasped at the cold of the thick glass against her back and her shoulders, but then Halil was spreading her legs even wider, making sure that he had enough space to kneel between her feet.

  “What are you—”

  “I should have thought it would have been obvious, beautiful..”

  All of the deliberate teasing he had done before was gone. Replacing it was an intense need, and he leaned in to lay a rough kiss between her legs.

  Myriah was glad that he had not told her to keep her hands to herself, because now they came forward to twist in his dark hair, clinging and needy and doing their best not to pull too hard.

  “Halil . . .”

  Whatever she was going to ask trailed off as he went to work in earnest, nuzzling to the very core of her and licking greedily at her.

  Myriah groaned as the heat that had suffused her before rose, and along with it came a flood of wetness and warmth between her legs, a tightening deep in her core that there was no way to deny.

  Now she could smell her own arousal, and instead of making her blush, it only made her need Halil more.

  He was showing her no more mercy than he had years ago. She knew that if she didn’t stop him, he was going to use his hands, his mouth, his very breath, to drag her into a screaming climax.

  And why would she want to stop him?

  Every part of her body was inching towards a release, crying for it needing it, but still she held herself back.

  “Halil, Halil please . . .”

  There was something different about her voice then, something that made Halil look up. That raging need was still on his face, but there was concern there as well.

  “What? What is it? Did I hurt you . . .?”

  “No . . . no, nothing like that. It’s just . . . I don’t want to do this without you?”

  The ghost of a smile whisked across Halil’s face, but he nodded, rising to his feet. God, he was so much taller than she was, so powerful that he could make her feel small and strangely delicate when she knew herself to be no such thing.

  “Believe me, I had no intent of denying myself, but you want something besides this, don’t you?”

  There was a slight challenge in his voice, and Myriah, who still felt as if her body were as hot as the surface of the sun, as though the trembling he had caused inside her would never stop, lifted her chin proudly at him.

  “I want you with me,” she said, her voice only trembling a little bit. “I want you . . . with me, and inside me and shaking just as much as I am and . . .”

  “Strip me.”

  She blinked, and he grinned at her. “Show me how much you want. Take my clothes off.”

  Myriah wasn’t strong enough to tear his clothes off as he had done with hers. However, she was fast and dexterous, and she reached for his clothes with an intense need and focus. She fumbled with buttons, she swore softly at sleeves, but she wanted him naked so much that she couldn’t pause to be careful.

  She discarded his clothes as carelessly as he had discarded hers, and the moment he was naked in front of her, he swept her up in his arms again. This time, the potent sensation of his skin sliding against hers made them both shake, and she clung to him.

  “Now,” she whispered, feeling the heat and power of his erection against her thigh. “Now, oh now, please don’t make me wait anymore . . .”

  Myriah whimpered as he pressed her against the glass, the cold smooth surface still shocking her. For a moment, she imagined how shocking her body writhing against the glass would be if anyone were high enough to see it, and then nothing else mattered as Halil growled at her to wrap her legs around his waist.

  “Hold on to me,” he commanded, and the desperate hard sound in his voice made her heart beat faster. She threw her arms aroun
d his shoulders and pressed her face against his neck as he drove into her with one swift, smooth motion.

  “Oh Halil!”

  It was everything she didn’t know she wanted. He filled her with the power of him, and the differences between their bodies made her want to weep with the beauty of it all.

  Then he started to move inside her, and all that mattered was the pulsing heat inside her core.

  The pleasure rose up with every thrust, and then he shifted slightly, moving just enough that she felt his body open hers just a little further, allowing him to put just a little more pressure on her clit . . .

  Myriah unraveled in one long and desperate cry. It was too good. It felt far too good, and her body shook. She needed to find some kind of stability, some place where she could stand, but there was nothing in the world they had built but Halil, nothing but his body, their bodies together. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and acting on an instinct that was older than human civilization, she bit him, her teeth sinking into his neck.

  It didn’t matter. Nothing stopped him from thrusting into her, from sending that pleasure spiraling higher, and then Myriah was utterly, completely lost. The fire that she had almost been holding at bay escaped her grasp entirely, and then she went up in flame, the sensations shaking her so hard that it felt as though it would certainly be a miracle if she ever came back together again.

  She didn’t realize that she was actually talking until the sensations and the pleasure pulled back from her body just a little bit.

  “I want you, I need you, so good, just so good . . .”

  Her throat was dry from the sounds she had been making, and she felt her entire body start to calm even as Halil started pushing into her more ferociously.

  With every thrust, he sank into her deeply, and the pleasure was still there, if muted and sated. Myriah felt a kind of wonder rise up in her when she realized she could tell when he was trembling on the edge. Just as she had done, he tried to put it off, and just as she had experienced, he was unable to do so.