WARNING! A Five-Chili Steamy Scene Lurks Below!
If you aren’t ready for your phone to catch on fire, click away.
What would be better in October than two doctors fleeing from a mummy’s curse and succumbing to an unexplainable chemistry in their hotel?
🌶️ Mummy Hunters
🌶️ Awkward Heroine
🌶️ Determined Hero
🌶️ Past Loves Coming To Life
Tarek and Emma stumbled to their feet together. Her palm slipped from his back and curled against his ass on its own. A gasp of glee escaped against his kiss. She wanted to knead that taut round cheek like a cat, but Tarek had plans of his own.
Tugging on the hem of her sweater, Tarek guided Emma around the room with his hips. At first, she obeyed, shuffling back to wherever he wanted. But when her top flew off and he pressed his palm deep into the small of her back, she froze, but not from a fear that she was about to foolishly faceplant or stumble backwards on her ass.
Those hips, with only the professional sheen of cotton between them, brushed against hers in their awkward dance. She felt him, the full ecstatic and hungry breadth of him, ready for her, and it short circuited her brain. How could someone like him, someone clearly carved by the gods themselves to be the messenger of Eros, want her? Tarek nuzzled her shoulder, tossing away the fallen curls that tickled down her naked back, and jolting Emma into this moment. A soft moan punctuated his hard kisses up her neck.
He thrust once against her hips, no doubt trying to guide her to the bed. But some other being inside Emma wrapped her hand around his cock, pants be damned. This confident stranger, who didn’t turn beet red and rush to turn out the lights, rolled her palm over the guiding crown of his cock. A groan of delight slipped from Tarek’s scorching lips, encouraging her.
Without pause, Emma spun around and pressed Tarek against the wall. His eyes opened wide when his back struck, but a rapturous smile flickered in place with every aching stroke from her. “You are the hottest man I’ve ever…fondled.” Crap. She felt herself slipping. Whoever that confident dominatrix, who believed she could jack a man off through his pants, had been, she’d vanished.
Her chin dropping, Emma blushed to her hairline. A finger caught her chin, lightly cupping the edge. “And you,” Tarek whispered, his voice rich with need, “are the most breath-taking woman to ever fondle me.”
The kiss flew through her, burning away the last of the fear. His fingers rolled over her back to work off the bra, but Emma’s only goal was finally seeing what he kept under his suit.
Stupid men’s buttons. Her fingers nearly failed her, trying to undo them in the wrong way every trip down. But with each button finally popping free, she traced her pinkie against the emerging skin below. Warm—of course. Taut—certainly. Tempting her to sin her brains out—hell yes.
Nails scraped down her back, revealing that he’d undone her bra. The cups dangled over her chest, free but still in the way. That didn’t seem to be Tarek’s greatest concern as he brushed the heel of his palms over the entire terrain of her back. “There is so much ink spilled over a woman’s captivating form,” he whispered, his lips pressing every syllable against hers. “But never enough about the elegant curves of her back. How it parts inward, like the flow of a river.”
He trailed both of his hands to her waist, resting their heels right at the top of her hips. Licking her earlobe, Tarek let his bottom lip almost tickle the hollow below. “And the promising bounty…” Diving under the waistband of her jeans, he clamped both hands around her ass. “Below.”
Kneading with all the vigor of a deep tissue massage, Tarek pressed and released her buttocks. He pulled Emma tighter to his body. The shirt she’d attempted to free him of dangled loosely to frame his chest, but all she cared about was the cock pressing into her.
She wanted him to rip off her jeans. Use a knife if necessary.
No. She needed him to spread her ass and take her from behind.
Balancing her weight on one palm, Emma found her way back to his cock. She ached to take him in her mouth.
Tarek’s touch slipped from his invigorating massage as Emma bent down. His face twisted into pain, until he watched her take to both knees. Crossing her arms like an Egyptian prepared for burial, Emma tugged down her bra straps, freeing herself before him.
A low moan rose from the man above her as she exposed her ample and sightly lopsided curves. Tarek curled a palm under one breast, taking his time to caress a finger over her nipple. Fire trailed his touch, igniting the simmering in her thighs. When a moan escaped from Emma’s lips, Tarek squeezed both her breasts. He kneaded her, his wide palm straining to take all of her on, before drawing his fingers forward to tweak her nipples. Every little yelp of joy from her caused the cock in her hand to twitch.
Slowly, she finished unbuttoning his pants, her head tipped back to watch his eyes darkening with need. Emma cupped her hand under his balls, holding them upright as she tugged on the zipper. It was only a tiny pull, but the sound impacted like a bolt of lightning. Tarek groaned, his balls rising from her palm. She tenderly stroked them back in place, holding tight while unzipping his fly.
Every half an inch, she’d pause and kiss right below his belly button. Hotter than his lips, the skin right above his lush pubic hair smelled of long afternoons languidly screwing in the back of a Turkish spa. Emma trailed lower, drawing the tip of her long nose through the black hairs thick with his scent. Sweet as a fig, wilder than an untamed horse, tempting as an oasis pool.
She reached the end of his fly, welcoming the full weight of his naked cock in her hands. For a moment, fear took hold. No way could she handle that veiny, pulsing length without choking to death. It was darker than the rest of him, save the head that appeared even wider thanks to its lighter hue.
As it swung free of the confines of his trousers, Emma’s gaze trailed. It jerked up once, then again, and her need to taste him chased away the fear. With the tip of her tongue pointed, she licked from the base of his shaft almost up to the head.
A small gasp slipped from him, guiding Emma back to trailing her tongue up his cock from the left, then the right. Every time she avoided his crown, watching it turn pink and widen. Fingers knotted into her hair. Tarek clung tight as he lightly thrust to chase her wily tongue.
“Do you delight in torturing me so?” Tarek muttered, his voice straining with the eruption of another sigh of pleasure.
Curling her palm under his balls again, Emma began to rotate them while she increased her licking. But still not the head. “Doesn’t the fruit taste all the sweeter…?” she said, starting once again at the base. Right before she reached the top, she paused and stared up at him.
It seemed to take a moment for Tarek to realize she’d stopped her slow tease. His eyelashes fluttered, and he turned to stare down at her.
Emma cupped her hand around his long shaft. “When it’s ripest?” She plunged her mouth around him, circling her tongue around the pulsing crown of his cock. Tarek twisted his fists around her wild curls. He started to thrust inside her mouth, but Emma pressed on his hips to stop him. His cock slipped from her lips, looking all the juicier as it danced from his heavy panting.
Sticking her thumb out, she bent lower and once again licked up his shaft. Tarek’s hold fell from her hair to her breasts. He tugged tenderly on her nipples and kneaded her while she licked him. But the moment she took the whole of his crown in her mouth, he hung onto her head. When he tried to thrust, or cry out in nearly reaching orgasm, she pulled back.
At every sputter of bliss from Tarek, Emma pulsed her thighs together. She savored the heat and wetness pooling where she longed for him to enter. Where this sex queen came from, she had no idea. With any other guy, she was ‘an under the covers, let him fumble around and hope it all connects’ girl. But she wanted to make Tarek squirm and plead for her, to make him drop to his knees and swear there’d never be another he loved.
Her mind blanked as two incongruous thoughts ripped it apart. One knew him to be a near-stranger, a man from another country who’d just happened to save her from a mummy. The other was harder to form into words, casting only sensations across her soul. The pound of feet running into a lover’s embrace. The warm serenity of his head resting on her naked chest. The taste of wine dribbling down his stomach. And through it all, the smell of sycamore trees.