by Sophia Lynn
"I have clothes," she said after greeting the old woman with confusion. "You've seen them."
The old woman let loose a torrent of fast Arabic, and Adnan grinned.
"She said that you have clothes that should only be worn by antiques and women with no fashion sense," he translated. "She'll dress you correctly."
"I couldn't—"
"You wanted to know more about the cultural resources of Ikkar," Adnan pointed out. "This is the best way to learn."
Bailey conceded his point, and from the table where he had set up his work, Adnan watched as she spent an afternoon having her measurements taken and then talking about colors and textures with the tailor. The conversation mostly involved the old woman giving Bailey swatches of fabric to touch and holding them up to her face speculatively, but it seemed as if they had gotten a lot done.
Then the next morning, the clothes started appearing, courtesy of the woman's grand-nephew who delivered them via bicycle, and Bailey whistled.
"All right, you're right again," she said. "This is a lot different."
"I'll manfully resist the urge to say I told you so," Adnan said smugly.
Bailey's new clothes were the same shape as her old ones; long robes with full bell sleeves and wide trousers that fell down to her ankles, but this time, they had been cut to her figure. The fabric was far lighter and filmier, and rather than the dark colors she had chosen to blend in with a conservative populace, her new clothes came in bright tones that brought out the rosiness in her cheeks and made her blue eyes look like gems.
"All right," she said, in a sea green caftan that flowed around her like water. "Now that I'm all dressed up, what in the world shall we do about it?"
"Well, I was thinking about a puppet show," Adnan said guilelessly, and to his surprise, Bailey nodded.
"Cool. I'm in."
"No questions at all?"
"Nope. You didn't say anything that involved anyone getting hurt or anything that I would find personally distasteful, so why wouldn't I be in? You like to have as much fun as I do, so let's go."
Adnan laughed.
"I keep forgetting how much you want to see and explore. And no one's going to get hurt, but you know, westerners might have some issues with the puppet show in question."
Bailey raised her eyebrows.
"All right, now I have to see this."
That evening, seated in the shade of an open sided tent, Bailey leaned in against Adnan's side.
"All right," she murmured. "I can see why someone with delicate sensibilities might have issues with this puppet show."
"But not you?" he asked with a grin.
He didn't bother to lower his voice as no one else was. The large tent shaded perhaps forty people on benches and the large sheet hung up at one end, further illuminated by bright lights from behind, showed a collection of shadow puppets that were gleefully chopping each other's heads and arms off and sending them flying. The flickering of the lights and the rippling of the sheet in the slight wind made the images look almost disquietingly real, and the people responded to it, cheering on their favorite characters and booing the villains.
"No, I love this," she said. "I think I'm following the story. The girl with the crown is the general, right? And her lover betrayed her when he ran off to join her enemies with her horse?"
"Right. It makes more sense if you know that the horse represents her cavalry. That's why she's fighting on foot."
"Oh! Right, that makes sense. And ... and now she's pregnant, is it with the baby of the man who left her?"
"No, see that swirly puppet thing at the top? It's a wind spirit that came to console her while she was grieving her love. Tomorrow, they're doing the part of the story that features her son, who's half human, half spirit."
"Oh we have to come back for that," Bailey said, her eyes glued to the screen, and Adnan felt a strange soft pang in his heart for how much she cared about this strange and obscure part of his culture.
The puppet show ended with a meal that Adnan had paid to have brought to the audience and the performers alike, and they sat long into the night, plates of food in their laps as Adnan explained the puppet theater of Ikkar to her. From time to time, some old performer came by to thank him for his patronage, and he watched as Bailey's gaze grew more thoughtful and curious.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked on the way back, and Bailey smiled a little. At some point her hand had ended up in his, and she squeezed it gently as they continued to walk in the light of the moon.
"Oughtn't it be a riyal?" she asked, granting him a soft smile. "I guess I was just thinking that this was how it was in the old days, wasn't it? Performers made their money off of the local people, but also the rich men who came and did things like this, paid them well, fed them."
"Patronage, yes. It had its benefits, certainly, but it is an uncertain way to live. What I think we're both looking to do in Ikkar is foster a little more certainty, a little more security so the art that we saw will not disappear, but instead will thrive."
"I think you did pretty well for them tonight, if that counts for anything," Bailey said with a small laugh. "But you're right. They deserve more and better."
"They also deserve patrons who won't simply see how beautiful a woman in the troupe is and carry her off."
Bailey blinked and Adnan laughed.
"It's a family legend, I'm afraid. One of my ancestors came to a puppet show just like this one in Ikkar hundreds of years ago, but instead of watching the puppets, he was instead overcome with love for the head puppeteer's daughter."
"Love," Bailey echoed. "Is that what they called it?"
"He carried her away and made her the Sheikha of Amil for all their very long lives together," Adnan said. "We could call it love."
"On one hand, I think if you scratch the surface of that story, it's terrible."
"But on the other hand..."
She paused in the courtyard of his house. The moon had fully risen on their walk, and the trees in the courtyard cast long dark shadows. What was beautiful and familiar in sunlight turned dark and mysterious at night.
"On the other hand, can you imagine what it would be like to be seen and desired and taken and given a kingdom?" she asked. "What must it be like to be desired so much, to drive someone almost mad with wanting for you?"
She looked up at Adnan, and there was absolutely no fear in her eyes at all. Instead there was a question there and the glimmers of a hunger and a strength that could match his own.
They had been circumspect with each other for the last few days. It felt as if they were on new ground, things far too fragile and new to test with what they both wanted. Something had changed in the moonlight, however, and now there was nothing in him that wanted to be careful any longer.
"I should think you know all about being desired to the point of madness," Adnan murmured, and he pushed her gently against the brick wall.
Chapter 12
The moment Adnan's hands were on her, the moment his mouth slanted down over hers, she was overwhelmed with a tide of rising need and something almost ancient, almost primal, that pulsed at the core of her being. This was who she wanted, this was who she needed, and all of her doubts and concerns fell away.
Her arms went up to circle his neck and bring him in even closer, and she tilted her head up, urging him to deepen the kiss and give her even more.
"You taste so good," she murmured. "You taste so good, and I want you so much."
"I think I have wanted you from the moment that I first laid eyes on you," Adnan whispered, nuzzling the side of her neck and then nipping the sensitive flesh. "I think you are exactly what I have wanted my entire life."
Something about the words sent a pulse of pleasure through her and she whimpered as his mouth dropped to the base of her neck, to the single jeweled button that closed the long slit that opened the garment straight down to the center of her chest.
The deep slit, even buttoned at the top, had surprised her a
little when she had tried it on, but the delicate cotton camisole underneath made it decent enough. She had seen plenty of other women her age wearing similar garments when she had looked for them, and thought nothing more of it.
Now though, her caftan was gaping to either side, and the camisole underneath, fitted so she didn't need to wear a bra, felt like nothing at all under the onslaught of Adnan's mouth.
Bailey couldn't resist the urge to thread her fingers through his dark hair as he drove her slowly wild, his mouth heavy and warm and perfect against her skin.
"I want all of you right now," he murmured. "Perfect woman. If I had caught sight of you a thousand years ago, if all I knew was how you looked and how you moved and how you looked at me..."
"Would you have taken me away, too?" she asked, her voice catching as he knelt down to run his sharp teeth over her belly. "Would you keep me all for yourself?"
A low laugh rumbled through his frame as his fingers snagged the elastic of her waistband, tugging it just slightly away from her body.
"What makes you think I won't do that now?" he asked, and then she cried out as he pulled her trousers down, kissing the skin that was so newly revealed.
"Oh ... oh, Adnan," she murmured, digging her fingers into his hair and pulling gently. "I want you, I want you so much..."
"You'll have me, but first you're going to give me exactly what I've been dreaming about for weeks now."
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what that was, but then she whimpered as he spread her legs, forcing her stand with them apart as her back was braced against the wall. There was something oddly exposed about the position, though her caftan was still on, still covering most of her.
But it's leaving some parts very strategically uncovered, she thought, a blush of pleasure on her cheeks.
Adnan knelt in front of her, and then he was spreading her open with his hands. His touch was as soft and tender as it had been when they had last been together at this very house, as hot as it was in her dreams, and all she could do was gasp as he leaned in to taste her.
His mouth was gentle at first, gauging her reaction and her need, but then Bailey could feel the hunger surge through him as surely as it surged through her.
There was something ravenous about the way he went after her pleasure, his lips and tongue and even his teeth working to give her the pleasure she so craved.
"Oh Adnan, I can't, I don't know if—"
"I think you can," he said, still pressed against her. "I think you're going to."
Her cry echoed through the tall walls of the courtyard as she gave into the pleasure that was winding her so tightly. It raked at her with hot claws, sweeping through her and leaving her nothing more than a pile of sensations, nerve endings that had never quite known what they were for before.
It was so good that she threw her head back against the brick, her eyes shut tight and unable to do anything besides let the waves of sensation wash over her.
Then...
Oh god, but he wasn't stopping.
His mouth had stilled on her flesh long enough to let her gather her breath. If he hadn't, she likely would have had to shove him away or grown too oversensitive. However, he hadn't pulled away, and now that she was beginning to relax a little again, he nuzzled her gently as if seeing what she could bear.
"Oh... oh please," she murmured, leaning back against the wall, and slowly, with aching care, he resumed his motions.
He was, she thought dazedly, a little gentler this time, as if he had been sated by the first torrent.
The pleasure this time came slower, as if her body had to decide what it was capable of taking, what it was capable of in general, and she whimpered as it slowly mounted, slowly started to pull her down.
"I don't know if I can," she confessed, and Adnan laughed, the intoxicating tremors translated through her skin.
"Try," he suggested, and her eyes drifted shut.
She hadn't thought she could, but as he licked and kissed and opened her, as he made encouraging noises that seemed to go to the very core of what she wanted, she started to shake again, her body primed for pleasure and somehow already ready for more.
The second time, she cried out softly, whimpering as she was consumed. It felt as if she was falling with absolutely no fear of hitting the bottom.
For a moment, Bailey thought that Adnan might stay where he was, but he stood and was kissing her again. She could taste her own need on his lips, and she wanted more of him, more of everything they could do together.
"I need you," she managed, and Adnan's smile was clear against her lips.
"Who knew I had such an insatiable woman?" he asked, and Bailey arched her bare hip against his body, riding up against his erection and making him moan.
"I think you're the insatiable one,” she responded. "And I think maybe you're tired of waiting."
It was as if there was a crack in Adnan and she had bounced on it, snapping it under her weight. One moment, he was entirely at ease, and the next he had spun her around so she was facing the brick, her palms braced on the wall, his hands on her hips to drag them back a little.
Adnan pushed her caftan up to her shoulders, and suddenly that combined with the trousers that were pooling around her ankles made her gasp at how bare she felt.
"I think that if you want to sate me, you are going to have to work for a very long time, my darling," Adnan purred, nuzzling the back of her neck. "I've been so very hungry for you."
She wiggled with impatience as she heard the foil of a condom wrapper crinkle, and a moment later, she gasped as the broad blunt tip of his cock slid against her opening.
"Look at how wet you are for me," Adnan murmured through gritted teeth. "Look at how much I want you."
She cried out when he entered her, fully, swiftly, in one thrust. She must have sounded a little panicked because he paused.
"Bailey?"
"Don't stop," she gasped. "Never stop."
"I assume we will for water and food, but all right..."
She almost laughed at his joke, but then he was thrusting into her, his movements slow and heavy. She could feel how long and thick his cock was, how it filled her perfectly. It was as if they were made for each other, his body pleasing hers in every way that she desired. She felt made for him, and that sent another shiver of sweetness through her as well.
For a short time, she was quiet under his thrusts, bracing herself against the wall to receive them, but then she began to push back, arching her back and undulating her hips to encourage him to reach the same thunderous climax that she had found.
When he came, it was with a groan that sent a dull pulse of renewed pleasure through her, and then he was pulling out of her carefully after laying a gentle kiss on the small of her back.
“Was I too rough?” he asked, and she straightened up, shaking her head against the slight dizziness that the change in position evoked in her.
“No. Never.”
There was something on the verge of blooming in her heart, and when it did, she realized that there was nothing she could do to stop the words from spilling past her lips.
I love him, she thought helplessly. I love the care he takes, I love the way he wants to look after the people of Ikkar, I love his smile and the way he touches me, I love him. I love all of him.
Adnan disposed of the condom before returning to take her hand, and something about watching him do it struck a chord that rang through her. They had always used a condom. Every time after the first, there had been a condom involved. She had dismissed it because, well, there was too much going on, but right now, she felt a chill go through her body.
“Shall we go inside?” he asked. “I mean, we could continue out here, but…”
“Inside is good,” she said, and her own voice was tinny in her ears, her smile surely too wide to be seen as real. “Only … do you mind if I crash out a little early? I've not been sleeping well, and I think you just wore me out.”
Bailey was
amused to see Adnan puff up a little at her words, but she also caught the brief moment of disappointment at her decision even as he nodded with understanding.
He led her back into the house, pausing for just a moment in front of the door to her suite. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it with the most gentle care imaginable. It sent a tingle through her body that made her thoroughly regret spending the night in her own room, and then she said goodnight and shut the door behind her because, God, she was not meant to deal with that kind of temptation.
Safely behind the door, Bailey’s mind raced, and she thought back to the previous weeks, how her appetite had been so incredibly unreliable, and how very emotional she had been.
One time, she thought in fascination. One time, is that all it takes? Could that night have changed everything for us forever?
Tentatively, she set her hand on the curve of her belly. It was still flat; there was nothing there to give her any confirmation one way or another. There was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to go to Adnan, to share her news, but what if it was nothing? Hell, what if it was something?
He was the Sheikh of Amil, and she... she was just herself.
She winced. She was the woman who was working with him at the moment and had certainly worked against him in the past.
No. She needed more information. She couldn't proceed until she knew at least a little more than she did now.
She forced herself to shower and to put on her pajamas, but lying her bed, her hands clasped lightly over her stomach, she knew that that wasn't where she wanted to be.
Chapter 13
Adnan spent a restless night in his bed, tossing and turning. Every few minutes, it seemed as if he was reaching for someone who wasn't there, and then he would wake up suddenly startled by the cool sheets under his hand.
There is nothing wrong with her wanting to sleep alone, he told himself. There is nothing wrong with Bailey wanting space, wanting time to herself. She is a grown woman, and she has fought hard for her independence.
