by Lynn, Sophia
Myriah wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the turn the conversation had taken, and the only thing that stopped her from climbing off of Halil’s lap was the fact that he tightened his arms around her, dropping a tender kiss on her neck before continuing.
“No. How in the world could you think that? You’re unique. You’re special. And I don’t want to hurt you.”
Myriah felt a tide of relief wash over her, followed by a warmth for Halil’s concern that lit her up from within.
“For your information, I am not a virgin. I’ve slept with a man before.”
Halil probably didn’t need to know that it was really only one man, a boy, really, her prom date back in high school. It had been clumsy and silly, and while she didn’t regret it, it was hardly something that she had thought worth all the fuss. At least, she hadn’t thought it was worth all the fuss until Halil had started to kiss her.
Halil smiled at her. “I like a woman who knows what she wants. But if at any point you want to stop or to change what we are doing, if you want to slow down or do something else, all you have to do is ask, all right?”
“Why do I get the idea that you may not entirely believe me?” Myriah grumbled, but then Halil’s mouth was on hers again, exploring her with heat and this time with a bit of urgency that made her heart beat faster. Her hand, palm against his chest, felt his heart flutter, and she knew that he wanted this as much as she did.
“I want more than kissing,” she whispered into his mouth, and he chuckled. She could hear his laughter through her entire body, and she nearly purred at how good it felt.
“Good. So do I.”
To her surprise, Halil simply scooped her up in his arms and stood up. She had some idea that he was strong, but he carried her as if she weighed nothing, setting her down on the bed with a gentleness that made her blush a little.
“Can I take off your clothes?”
“Yes,” she said, slightly confused because of course she could take them off on her own. Then she sighed as he started to tug up the hem of her camisole, kissing every newly-exposed inch of her belly as he did so. The gentle kisses, warm and slightly ticklish, made her squirm, and then he was pulling the camisole over her head and starting on her skirt, working it down her legs and kissing her thighs, her knees, and her calves as he did so. The small sparks of pleasure that came from his kisses were fanning a bright fire inside her, and when she started to whimper, he stroked her bare sides, as if she were a horse he wanted to calm.
“I um, I would have worn better underwear if I had known we were going to be doing this,” she muttered.
It was true. She at least had a black bra and black panties that were at the moment sitting snugly in her chest of drawers in the closet. Instead, she had chosen a sturdy beige bra and panties that were striped green and white for some reason, faded and with some popped elastic.
Halil laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with them, but there’s no reason to keep them on any longer, is there?”
“I guess not . . .”
Halil slid her panties down her legs and then reached for her bra, undoing the hooks with an impressive amount of dexterity. Then she was naked in front of him, and her breath caught in her throat.
“Am I?”
“You’re gorgeous,” he said, and there was a breath of awe in his voice that told her he wasn’t lying or making a joke at her expense. All her life, she had felt too much this or too little that, and here in her bed in London, she knew that none of that was true. To Halil, she was gorgeous.
It was almost too much. She reached for him, because he was still too far away, and he seemed to agree because he came to lie down next to her. There was something absurdly pleasurable and reckless about touching him while he was clothed and she was so very naked, but she couldn’t get enough of it, especially not after he started to kiss her again. She opened her mouth to nip gently at his tongue, and then she exulted in his laugh at her daring.
“I want you naked too,” she murmured, tugging at his clothes. “Take them off?”
“Your wish, my darling.”
He stripped for her with an economy of motion that left him naked in a few heartbeats, and for a moment, Myriah just stared.
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, and he was.
Clothed, Halil was a good-looking man, one who could easily grace magazine covers and fashion spreads. For all she knew, given his mysterious ways, he might do precisely that. Naked, however, there was something classical about his looks, from how the broadness of his chest tapered down to a narrow waist to the thick muscles of his thighs and his calves.
Her eyes were drawn to his cock, jutting proudly towards her, and when she licked her lips without thinking of it, Halil’s breath caught, making her look up in surprise.
“You can touch me if you want,” he said gently. “It’s most certainly allowed.”
She realized with a bit of asperity that despite her interest in him and her growing need for what they were doing, she was letting him take the initiative.
She knelt up on the bed, pushing her dark hair back from her face, and reached for Halil. She realized that she wanted to know what he felt like, how his bare shoulders felt under her hands, how it would feel to run her fingers along his flanks and to touch the curve of bone and muscle that led from his waist down to his cock.
Her fingers skittered over that hard flesh shyly at first, stroking Halil’s thighs for a little while, but then she was unable to resist. She wrapped her hand around his shaft, drawing it tight before loosening her grip again. This drew a soft guttural sound from his throat that made her shiver, so she did it again, and then again. She felt a hot blush come up on her cheeks, and a low heat deep inside her. She had never thought that giving a man pleasure would feel so good.
Just when she saw a perfect bead of moisture at the very tip of his cock, Halil’s hand came down around hers.
“You feel too good,” he said, and there was a slight tremor in his words that made her smile.
“Should I stop?” she asked sweetly, and he laughed.
“Another time, I’ll let you do that however much you like, but I think turnabout’s fair play, don’t you?”
Before she could figure out what he meant by that, Halil pushed her onto her back on the bed, coming to kneel between her legs with an impressive amount of dexterity. She made an outraged sound to be deprived of her fun, but then that squeak turned into a long and unraveling sigh as she felt his fingers slide along her most private flesh.
She hadn’t been entirely truthful, perhaps. She might have had sex before, but this was the first time that anyone had touched her with this kind of consideration and care. His fingers sought and found the wet warmth inside, and that warmth was pulled back up to her clit, making it easier for Halil to rub her there.
She had never been touched like this before, and Myriah’s cries spiraled up in pleasure and in need. She had grabbed great handfuls of the sheets underneath her, desperate for something, anything that might anchor her and keep her steady during this barrage of sensations.
“Oh . . . oh Halil!”
“Stop?” he asked, and she shook her head.
God, she would die if he stopped. She would kill him if he stopped. All that mattered right now was the way he was touching her, the sweetness of it, and the hint of roughness that felt like exactly what she had always craved. Her hips were riding to meet him, and one leg wrapped heedlessly around his waist because she needed him closer.
The pressure in her lower belly that had begun when they kissed in the park rose up to spread through her entire body, and it didn’t matter what she was saying because it felt as if she had become a being of pure need. The only person in the world, she was certain, who could answer that need was Halil, and when she looked up into his dark eyes, she felt as if she were tumbling headlong into the space between the stars.
“Oh, oh Halil!”
The moment she cried out his name, her body arched like a bow
and it was as if she was being lit up from behind. She shook hard, and this time, she flung her hands up to hang on to Halil, digging her fingers into his shoulders. She needed the pleasure he was giving her, she needed the strength and solidity of him, she needed him to anchor her to the world while still allowing her to go flying.
Then, just when she was at her peak, just when she thought that surely he couldn’t make her feel anymore, he deliberately stroked her clit one more time. Somehow, instead of being far, far too much, it was just perfect, and it made her gasp at how good it felt, nearly crying as she called out for him again.
When Myriah drifted back down to reality, she realized that Halil had come to rest beside her, laying the sweetest most gentle kisses on her face.
“Are you all right, darling?”
She started to respond, but then she had to laugh helplessly as her voice cracked. Her voice was dry, and she had to swallow several times before she could speak properly.
“I’m amazing,” she said. “I didn’t . . . I never thought it could be like that.”
Halil laughed as he leaned down to nuzzle her face gently.
“It should always be something like that for you, darling. Something perfect and sweet and wonderful.”
She started to snuggle against him, and then she felt his cock, still hard, snugged against her thigh.
“But . . . what about you?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Halil started, but Myriah leaned up on her elbows, looking at him earnestly.
“But I want to worry about it,” she said, feeling oddly fragile but utterly invincible in that moment. “Like you worried about me, right? Or maybe worry isn’t the right term?”
“When I saw you, all I wanted to do was to make you feel good,” Halil admitted, and she grinned.
“Then show me how to make you feel good,” she said. All of her worries about being inexperienced were gone, and in its place was a need to please the man who had pleased her so very well.
Halil looked at her with a mixture of pleasure and wonder, and he nodded.
“All right, Come here, darling . . .”
She made a pleased noise when Halil lay down on his back and lifted her so she straddled his thighs. His cock rose up proudly between them, and Halil made a soft pleased sound when she wrapped her hand around it again.
“Show me,” she said, her voice soft and husky even in her own ears. “Show me what you like.”
She decided that she quite liked the helpless sound that Halil made when he cupped his hand over hers, tightening her grip and making his hips move underneath her.
She continued like that for a short time, but soon enough, she could see that it wasn’t going to be enough for Halil. There was a fine sweat that covered his body, and the look on his face was growing increasingly desperate. There would be other times where she could tease him, Myriah decided, but right now, what she wanted was to be with him, to be as close to him as her body demanded and her heart cried for.
“I need you,” she whispered, and her voice was so full of desire that Halil groaned. She knew in that moment that there was nothing he would deny her. His hands landed on her hips, and he was lifting her over him, moving her forward so that the blunt tip of his cock pressed against her swollen womanhood.
“Yes?” he asked her, and she nodded, without even the breath to respond.
That was all the warning he gave her before he pressed her down, arching his hips up to meet hers. He didn’t move quickly, but there was no hesitation at all as he brought their bodies together. Myriah was still so warm and wet that the single smooth motion took her breath away. It felt absurdly good, and that was even before he started to move. Halil was strong enough that he could lift her up and thrust up into her, making her whimper with pleasure. She braced herself with her hands on his chest and she did what she could to move with him, to arch her back and press herself closer, to rock against him as he thrust up into her body.
All of the pleasure that she’d felt with him earlier came flooding back, and though a few minutes ago, she would have said that she was too sensitive for it to feel good, this was incredible. It was as if her body had taken in that pleasure and was multiplying it, making her shake even as she cried out Halil’s name over and over again.
Distantly, she was aware of him saying something, but it was in Arabic, she couldn’t understand except that she could, and in every syllable he spoke, she could hear her name and the emotions that were coursing through both of them.
Suddenly, Halil froze and then with a deep growl in his throat, he thrust into her one last time, filling her and making her cry out. His pleasure tipped her over the edge as well, his large hands closing tight on her hips, her thighs trembling with the tension of being held above him. It was like letting everything fall down into gleaming shattered pieces, her entire body lighting up with need and with pleasure as she clung to him.
Myriah had no idea how long they stayed like that, but some eternity later, Halil pulled away from her, his gentleness making her whimper with pleasure. For a moment, he was gone, but then he was back with a warm damp towel and a glass of water.
“Hope you don’t mind that I went rummaging,” he said, his voice throaty and soft, “but I thought you might want this.”
She gratefully took the water from him, but then she nearly spilled it when he spread her legs to press the warm towel between them.
“Halil!”
“So I don’t think you’re lying to me. You’re far too honest for such a thing after all. But it does occur to me that I might have put you through a workout you don’t usually get so . . . I’ll just take care of you, and perhaps you will let me, yes?”
He raised an eyebrow at her, and she giggled.
“Yes, I would like that very much.”
The warm towel between her legs made her sigh with pleasure, and the idea that it was Halil touching her so intimately made her squirm a little as well. As if he could read her mind, Halil pressed her legs down to the bed so he could keep on with his task, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Shush, darling. We can do more in a little bit, if you wish.”
“Can we?” she asked, and then she blushed because God, she sounded like a kid in a candy store. That was how felt, however, and when Halil laughed, there wasn’t a spec of meanness in it.
“Yes, we can. Whatever you want.”
Apparently, however, what she wanted was a nap. When Halil got rid of the towel and the glass, he came back to lie in the bed behind her, one arm wrapped around her as if they slept like that every night.
Myriah wanted to stay awake, to talk with Halil, to tease him, to touch him more, and to make sure that he had loved what they did as much as she did. Instead, she drifted off to sleep, and in the months to come, she would sometimes find her mind wandering back to puzzle over what had changed, what had happened while she was in dreamland that created what happened next.
***
Myriah awoke from a shallow sleep to find the bed empty. For some reason, that felt strange, but then she woke up the rest of the way and realized Halil was no longer in bed with her. For one awful moment, she thought he had sneaked out while she was asleep, but then she saw with relief that he was pacing in the far end of the flat, talking in a soft voice in Arabic to whoever was on the other end of the line.
Her relief was short-lived when he looked up to see that she was awake, and his expression clanged shut like a wrought iron gate. She had never seen him look like that before, and almost instinctively, she reached for the blanket. Before, being naked with Halil was a pure pleasure, and now, why did she feel so suddenly vulnerable?
“Halil? What’s the matter?”
“I’m leaving,” he said abruptly. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I should even have stayed this long, but I wanted to . . .” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters now.”
“Halil? What’s happening. Please, talk to me..”
She stumble
d out of the bed, dragging the blanket with her. She tripped on the edge of it, and she would have landed on the ground, but then Halil was there, his strong arms wrapped around her, setting her right again. She was still shaking off the confusion from her dreams, and all she knew was that Halil felt like a stranger even as her heart cried for him to keep on holding her. Instead, he pressed a soft and regretful kiss to her forehead before stepping back.
“I’m so sorry, Myriah. I need to go, and I can’t tell you why . . .”
“Why not?” She could hear the high note of panic in her voice. This felt wrong, all wrong, as if Halil were running from something dangerous, but what in the world could that danger be? What could possibly make him leave her after he had held her so tenderly, made her feel so good?
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
What stopped her was the shattered look in his eyes. It looked as if the words were being forced past his lips, as if he were a man with no choice at all in front of him. In the end, it was only that she did not want to cause him more pain that stilled her, that made her quiet as he turned.
Walked out of her apartment.
Walked out of her life.
Later would come the tears and the questions, and much later after that would come the morning sickness and the queasy realization that her blissful months of passion with Halil would have some very far-reaching consequences.
Now, Myriah allowed the blanket to drop to the ground as she walked to the blue-tinted window. It was dark outside, and the tinting on the window was thick, but she could just make out Halil’s form on the street below. His shoulders were held tightly, and there was something almost militaristic in his stride. No sooner had he stepped onto the pavement below but a long, dark car that she was certain she had never seen before pulled up to the curb, and he got in. Then, he was gone.
Chapter Sixteen
Myriah
Myriah awoke from her dreams with tears on her face. She touched them with her fingertips, and there was a dark humor to it.
This is how I used to wake up all the time, she thought blearily.
