He sighs deeply and lets it out, clutching me close. “For me, too. That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Do you remember asking me if I have ever been happy?”

“Yes.”

“I am happy now. You have given me happiness.”

I see his eyes shine and shimmer, and his arms tighten around me and I see a tear streak down his face. “You’ve made me happy, too, Rania, and I didn’t think I could ever be happy again after my parents died.”

“We can be happy together.”

“Yes, please,” he whispers. “I’d like that.”

HUNTER

We sleep after making love, and I wake up with the most raging hard-on of my life. Rania is nestled against me, spooning me, her back to my front, and her ass cradles my achingly hard cock. She is so soft in my arms, so warm, so fragile and small, yet I know she is strong, so unbelievably strong.

I don’t care who she has been, what she has been. I know some guys wouldn’t be able to get past the fact that she was a prostitute, but that doesn’t matter to me. What matters is she loves me so completely, and she doesn’t hide it or hold back.

I thought I would die of sheer ecstasy when she slid down my body and pushed my c**k into her hot, wet pu**y. I did die, I think. I died and went to heaven, and to remain still while she found herself, while she learned to let herself feel, that was the hardest thing.

Like, ever.

I wanted to plunge into her, hard and wild and desperate, but I couldn’t. And I am so, so glad I didn’t. It took an age, it seemed, for her to understand the joy of making love, for her to open up her heart and her mind and her body and let me love her truly, but she did, and she rocked my world.

And now I want to do it again.

My palm slides of its own volition up her thigh, then in across her belly, up to her br**sts. Dim gray light streams in through the window and gives us a gentle glow of lightening dawn. I cup her breast, gently toy with the nipple. She moans in her sleep, shifts. I slide my hand down between her thighs to the tight triangle and she moves, just a little, loosens her clamped legs.

I’m not sure I should push this, but I can’t help touching her, wanting her. My middle finger reaches the top of her cleft and slides in. Now she is waking up, her eyelids fluttering to grant me glimpses of her chocolate eyes.

“Hunter?” Her voice is thick and sleep-muzzy.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “You’re just so sexy when you sleep, I couldn’t help touching you.”

She smiles, brushes a stretching hand across her face, groaning as she flexes and tenses her muscles languorously, like a cat. Her br**sts arch up and out, and I slide my hands across them, and then, when she is at the peak of her stretch, I lean in to suckle her nipple, flicking it with my tongue.

She moans, an impossibly erotic sound. I snake my fingers down to her slick pu**y and slide my fingers into her, sudden and without warning. She giggles and writhes, pulling me over onto her. The sound of her laugh, true, innocent laughter…it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard.

I’m above her, poised between her thighs, weight on my elbows, lips inches from hers, and her laughter fades. I hadn’t meant to land on top of her; it just accidentally happened. My c**k nudges her entrance, and I have to tense every muscle in my body to keep from plunging into her.

Her eyes are wide, her laughter gone, but her hands are on my shoulders, still and not trembling. I move to get off her, but she shakes her head.

“No, please. Just wait.” Her voice is so gentle, so hesitant, so innocent.

I wait. While I wait, I kiss her. She seems to find some kind of courage, some kind of solace in my lips on her skin. I begin at her shoulder, the round arch where arm meets shoulder, and then move to her clavicle, her throat, the hollow between throat and chest. She whimpers but does not move, does not speak. I venture a risk, kiss the swell of her breast, one and then the other, then take her nipple in my mouth and tongue it erect, one and then the other.

Her arms slide around my neck while I kiss her br**sts. Then I move up to kiss her lips, and her hands glide ghost-soft down my back to cup my ass.

“Look at me,” she says.

I look at her eyes. She is afraid again, but I see determination in her expression.

“Rania. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

She shakes her head. “Not to you. To me.” She caresses my ass, small, hesitant circles. “This was Sabah’s place, on her back. I want to make it mine, Rania’s. Ours. I do not want to let Sabah steal my pleasure.”

We share the silence for a long moment, and then she pulls at me, gently urging me closer. Her small, warm hands on my ass urge me into her. I pause before entrance.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

She nods. “Yes. Just…slowly. And kiss me.” She touches my lips with hers, and then says, “I need your kisses to make the memories disappear.”

This time, it’s me. I have to make this perfect, make it right.

I breathe in her scent and kiss her sweet lips. I kiss her with all the tenderness, all the bone-deep love, all the soul-shaking passion welling up in me for this woman. There is so much. I had no f**king clue I could feel this way, this much. It’s like some deep well opened up inside me, and now all the love in all the world is being poured through me into her.

She pulls at my ass, insistently now, and I adjust my weight, spread my knees slightly, and move into her. I enter her with a slowness at once excruciating and delightful, so slow it is almost not motion at all. She whimpers again, high in the back of her throat, and as I slip deeper her whimper is drawn into a moan.

Our bodies meet and her back arches as I bury myself to the hilt inside her, and now it’s my turn to groan. “God, Rania…you feel so amazing. I love being inside you.”

“Please, more,” she whispers. “More, more.”

I give her more, but slowly, gently. I try to make love to her as softly as I kiss her, not as if she’s fragile, but with tenderness. I go so slowly that each slide in, each slip out seems to take an eternity, an infinity of heaven.

She clutches my ass, pulls me against her, and I move a little faster, a little deeper. I alter the rhythm of my thrusts, a slow thrust in, a slightly faster withdrawal. She moans, gasps, and clutches me, breathing harder and harder. I feel a sheen of sweat slick across her body, mingling with my own sweat.

“Hunter,” Rania gasps, “I love this, with you. Don’t stop. It feels so good, so right. Please, give me more, a little more.”




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