a red flag before the bull, and now she knew how the matadors of Spain felt.
"That is what you wish?" he asked, his voice intent and low. After a moment, she nodded, her tongue tied and her throat dry.
As she watched in an agony of anticipation, he stalked towards her. She backed up until she hit the wall behind her, and could go no farther. Still he came on until he was lightly pressing her to the wall with his bulk. She whimpered a little as he touched her chin, making her lift her face to his.
Without a word, without a warning or anything else, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kisses that they had enjoyed before were rough and hurried things, powerful for their speed and strength. This kiss, however, was powerful simply due to the slowness and deliberation of it, to the sweetness of being able to enjoy each other.
As Rasul kissed her, Berry lost all of the fear and hesitation that she had been harboring. Instead, under his masterful touch, she gave herself up to the kiss and to the power of his need that made hers rise up so high. He kissed her the way that she had always wanted to be kissed, and when he pulled back, she looked at him with a small degree of shock.
"Rasul?"
He smiled slightly. She saw with a fascinated glance that his lips were red with what they had done, and she knew that hers must be the same.
"That is just the start of what I want to do with you," he murmured, "but before we do anything, I want you to be sure. However … I have started to wonder if part of the misunderstanding between us is how you want to move forward."
"How I want to—"
"It is a simple thing," he said with a slight smile. "For the next twenty-four hours, you may say no to anything that you wish. If you tell me no, than I will stop. However, I am free to do as I like until you say no. Is that clear?"
For a moment, she was so struck by the sheer eroticism of his plan that she was silent. Then Berry nodded. "Yes," she said, and if her voice came out huskier than she thought it should, neither of them commented on it.
"Good," he said.
For a moment, she thought that he was going to start in with their strange experiment that very moment, but then he stepped back to the refrigerator.
"It is a bit late for breakfast, but perhaps you would like an omelet for brunch?"
For a moment, she didn't realize what he was asking, but then she heard him and laughed. "Yes, eggs sound very good," she said.
What had she been thinking, after all? No matter what her fantasies were, Rasul was a real man who lived in the real world. She couldn't expect her erotic fantasies to take over completely.
At least, that was what she thought until he gave her some green onions and a knife and directed her to a cutting board at the kitchen island. She was thinking of nothing more than getting the onions chopped for their meal when he came up behind her, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.
"I do not think that you have any idea how beautiful you truly are," he whispered. "I do not think that you understand how very much any man seeing you would want you."
"I … I think I have had many men look at me and decide that they didn't want me," she whispered self-consciously. "I'm tall, and my hair is dull and I'm so flat …"
"You are elegant," he corrected, "and your hair shines like a rare wood and as for your figure …"
She held her breath as his hands wandered up her sides to cup her small breasts in his hands. The tingles from his touch were enough to make her gasp, and then he squeezed gently, making her press back against him for more. Her mind was filled with the idea of him sweeping the onions aside, bending her over, lifting her skirt, and …
To her intense regret, however, he stepped back. "The men who turned you down were fools," he said decisively.
And then, as her face was flushed with heat for him and as she was close to whimpering with want, he returned to the heating skillet.
"I can tell you're looking at me," he said calmly.
"That is what you wish?" he asked, his voice intent and low. After a moment, she nodded, her tongue tied and her throat dry.
As she watched in an agony of anticipation, he stalked towards her. She backed up until she hit the wall behind her, and could go no farther. Still he came on until he was lightly pressing her to the wall with his bulk. She whimpered a little as he touched her chin, making her lift her face to his.
Without a word, without a warning or anything else, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kisses that they had enjoyed before were rough and hurried things, powerful for their speed and strength. This kiss, however, was powerful simply due to the slowness and deliberation of it, to the sweetness of being able to enjoy each other.
As Rasul kissed her, Berry lost all of the fear and hesitation that she had been harboring. Instead, under his masterful touch, she gave herself up to the kiss and to the power of his need that made hers rise up so high. He kissed her the way that she had always wanted to be kissed, and when he pulled back, she looked at him with a small degree of shock.
"Rasul?"
He smiled slightly. She saw with a fascinated glance that his lips were red with what they had done, and she knew that hers must be the same.
"That is just the start of what I want to do with you," he murmured, "but before we do anything, I want you to be sure. However … I have started to wonder if part of the misunderstanding between us is how you want to move forward."
"How I want to—"
"It is a simple thing," he said with a slight smile. "For the next twenty-four hours, you may say no to anything that you wish. If you tell me no, than I will stop. However, I am free to do as I like until you say no. Is that clear?"
For a moment, she was so struck by the sheer eroticism of his plan that she was silent. Then Berry nodded. "Yes," she said, and if her voice came out huskier than she thought it should, neither of them commented on it.
"Good," he said.
For a moment, she thought that he was going to start in with their strange experiment that very moment, but then he stepped back to the refrigerator.
"It is a bit late for breakfast, but perhaps you would like an omelet for brunch?"
For a moment, she didn't realize what he was asking, but then she heard him and laughed. "Yes, eggs sound very good," she said.
What had she been thinking, after all? No matter what her fantasies were, Rasul was a real man who lived in the real world. She couldn't expect her erotic fantasies to take over completely.
At least, that was what she thought until he gave her some green onions and a knife and directed her to a cutting board at the kitchen island. She was thinking of nothing more than getting the onions chopped for their meal when he came up behind her, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.
"I do not think that you have any idea how beautiful you truly are," he whispered. "I do not think that you understand how very much any man seeing you would want you."
"I … I think I have had many men look at me and decide that they didn't want me," she whispered self-consciously. "I'm tall, and my hair is dull and I'm so flat …"
"You are elegant," he corrected, "and your hair shines like a rare wood and as for your figure …"
She held her breath as his hands wandered up her sides to cup her small breasts in his hands. The tingles from his touch were enough to make her gasp, and then he squeezed gently, making her press back against him for more. Her mind was filled with the idea of him sweeping the onions aside, bending her over, lifting her skirt, and …
To her intense regret, however, he stepped back. "The men who turned you down were fools," he said decisively.
And then, as her face was flushed with heat for him and as she was close to whimpering with want, he returned to the heating skillet.
"I can tell you're looking at me," he said calmly.
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