Secrets of the Oasis

by Abby Green

  That night, after another elaborate dinner, which had been held in their own hotel this time, Jamilah accepted an invitation from the Sultan of Al-Omar’s aide to go for a drink to the bar. She’d always felt guilty about how she’d run out on him at the Sultan’s party the previous year, after that tense meeting with Salman.

  At least that was the justification for her agreeing to the drink. In truth she’d been avoiding Salman all day, still too raw to be able to deal with him and that penetrating dark gaze now that she knew the reason for the shadows behind it. But she’d known where he was at every moment, and she’d seen how his eyes had flashed when he’d noticed her leaving with Ahmed just minutes before.

  Earlier that evening she’d been ready before Salman, and had gone down to dinner without him. She’d congratulated herself, having managed to successfully avoid him yet again. But when he’d arrived at dinner he’d raked her whole body across the room with a look so hot she’d been surprised little fires hadn’t broken out over her skin. She’d thought her dress was modest enough—vee-necked silk, with a tight waist and full skirt to the knee—but one look from Salman and she’d feared he’d melted it right off her.

  ‘Jamilah.’

  Jamilah flinched and looked at Ahmed, and smiled apologetically.

  ‘I’m sorry, my mind is miles away…’ She put a hand on his arm. It wasn’t fair of her to be here with him when she couldn’t concentrate on their conversation. ‘Look, I think we should take a raincheck. I’m not great company this evening.’

  Ahmed smiled ruefully, and Jamilah wished that she found the perfectly nice-looking man half as attractive as she found Salman.

  ‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with Salman al Saqr, would it?’

  Jamilah coloured as Ahmed stood up and waited for her to stand, too.

  He said as they walked out, ‘Don’t worry, it’s not that obvious, but I’ve been in close proximity to you two before, if you remember.’

  Jamilah went hotter when she recalled Ahmed finding them in the corridor, with tension crackling between them. She couldn’t lie as she followed him out of the bar and to the lifts. ‘He’s got a little to do with it, I guess.’

  In the lift Ahmed turned to her and said, somewhat stuffily, ‘I know you won’t want to hear this, but he has got a reprehensible reputation with women.’

  Jamilah just managed to stifle a hysterical laugh. Poor Ahmed didn’t know the half of it. But she appreciated his concern. He walked her to the door of the suite and she smiled at him, feeling sad. And then something rose up within her—a sense of desperate futility as she thought of Salman and the impossibility of their relationship. Perhaps if she just gave someone else a chance…

  She moved closer to Ahmed and asked, ‘Can I kiss you?’

  The other man looked comically shocked, and his glasses practically steamed up as he blustered, ‘Yes…of course.’

  He moved forward awkwardly, and in that moment Jamilah knew it was all wrong—she shouldn’t have said anything. But it was too late. His hands were around her waist, gripping too tightly, and then he was bumping her nose, aiming for her mouth before planting a fleshy wet kiss on her lips.

  In a move so fast that she didn’t know which way was up Jamilah heard a door open and found herself being pulled back and out of Ahmed’s hands. Her relief quickly disappeared when she realised that it was Salman who now gripped her waist. She could feel his tall, taut strength behind her and her body reacted accordingly. Poor Ahmed was clearly terrified.

  He backed away and said a garbled goodnight, then fled. Salman whirled Jamilah around in his arms, and all she could do was open and close her mouth ineffectually. The difference between this man and Ahmed was comical. Her body was rejoicing as if it had just found its long-lost mate. Her hands were fists on his chest. He was still in his ceremonial robes, no tuxedo tonight, and she was very aware of his body through the insubstantial flimsiness of her silk cocktail dress.

  He tugged her into the room with him, and her back thudded against the door when Salman slammed it shut. He crowded her, his hands by her head, eyes blistering down into hers. ‘What the hell was that about?’ He mocked her voice. “Can I kiss you?”’

  Jamilah welcomed the surge of anger at his arrogant behaviour. It helped to distract her from dealing with the fact that facing this man made her feel so exposed and raw and emotional. ‘It’s rude to listen at doors and spy through peepholes. And who gave you the God-given right to order Ahmed off like that?’

  Salman grimaced. ‘I didn’t say a word. He knew he wasn’t wanted—just as he wasn’t wanted last year. He looked like he was about to drown you in drool.’

  Jamilah shuddered at the memory, even though she tried to hide it.

  Salman went very still. ‘I disgust you now. That’s it, isn’t it? Your head is full of awful images and I put them there.’

  To Jamilah’s surprise, Salman released her from the cage of his arms and swung away, energy blistering from him. Instinctively Jamilah reached out and took Salman’s arm. ‘No—no, Salman. Of course you don’t disgust me.’

  He wouldn’t turn round, and said tautly, ‘I felt your reaction just now. You’d prefer to be kissed by that toad than me.’

  Jamilah’s brain was blank for a moment, and then she remembered her reaction to the thought of being kissed by Ahmed, the violent shudder that had run through her. She came and stood in front of Salman. He looked so proud and handsome. How could he possibly think…?

  Salman still battled the jealousy that had ripped through him like corrosive acid when he’d watched Jamilah walk out of the ballroom with that man. He shook with it. And when he’d seen them kiss just now he’d gone blind with rage. He couldn’t even look at Jamilah as she stood in front of him now. He’d never felt so exposed and weak in front of anyone. Not even those soldiers had reduced him to this.

  Jamilah burned as she looked up and saw the intensity on Salman’s face, the way he avoided her eye. Anger had turned into something much more ambiguous and explosive within her. A treacherous tenderness was rushing through her—exactly what she’d been afraid of all day. She would have to make the first move, to show him, prove to him, that she wanted him, and she could no more deny him that than stop breathing.

  This was their moment of reckoning. She knew that much. A reckless exhilaration was thrumming through her blood now—and it had been from the moment he’d replaced Ahmed’s hands with his own. In her head she finally capitulated to her most base desires and threw caution to the wind, saying, ‘If you can’t see that my reaction was for Ahmed, and not you, then you’re losing your touch, Salman. You don’t disgust me. Quite the opposite, in fact. So why don’t you just shut up and kiss me?’

  She’d shocked him as much as herself. She could feel it in the sudden tension in his body. He looked down at her and she wound her arms around his neck, for the first time feeling a little in control of the situation. She went up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to Salman’s. And then, when he didn’t move, she pulled back and said, ‘What’s the matter, Salman? Can’t you handle a woman taking the initiative?’

  His hands went to her waist and burned through her clothes. ‘Oh, I can handle it, all right, but I just want to know this: are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

  Jamilah shut out the cacophony of warning voices in her head and pressed even closer to Salman, exulting in the feel of his hard erection between them. ‘I know exactly what I’m doing. I can take care of myself. I have been for a long time now.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SALMAN smiled, and it was feral, and it made something deep inside Jamilah shiver with anticipation. ‘I think I like you even more when you’re dominant and bossy.’

  Before she could make a retort Salman was walking her back until she felt herself thud against the door again. His head descended, and nothing but delicious heat and sensation concerned Jamilah any more. She held him close, fingers tangling in his hair. Their tongues duelled fiercely, as if the
y couldn’t get enough of one another.

  She’d hungered for him for too long. Desire was overflowing and all-encompassing, and she didn’t have a hope of resisting—not that she could have after her provocative little speech. Jamilah had no idea where that confidence had come from, but knew she’d gone that route in a bid to feel as if she was the one in control.

  But that and every other coherent thought fled when she felt Salman’s hands on her back, pulling down the zip of her dress. His mouth left hers and followed the line of her jaw down to her shoulder, where she could feel him pulling down the strap of her dress. Her breath came jerkily, her hands dropped, and she sagged back against the door, her legs trembling. They’d gone from zero to a thousand in thirty seconds on the arousal scale.

  Salman pulled the strap down her arm and she could feel her dress gaping open at the back. Nothing could stop it from falling down now, and exposing one bare breast. In the dim light he pulled back for a moment and looked his fill. All Jamilah could do was concentrate on not passing out with the intensity of the desire pulsing through her. She felt her breast grow heavy, and its peak tightened unbearably. She bit her lip to stop herself from begging Salman to touch her there.

  She felt so wanton, and almost cried out when Salman cupped the fleshy weight and said throatily, ‘So beautiful…I’ve dreamed of this, Jamilah. I’ve dreamed of you.’

  His thumb passed back and forth over the throbbing peak, and when he bent his head and licked around it before sucking it into his mouth she did cry out, holding his head with her hands.

  Desperation mounted through her as the memory of the bliss only he could evoke was awoken within her core. ‘You…’ she said breathily. ‘I want to see you.’

  Salman stopped his luxurious lavishing of attention on her breast and stood up. With sheer sensual grace and ease of confidence he tugged off his outer robe, and then the thinner under-robe. He kicked off his shoes, his eyes never leaving Jamilah’s even though she couldn’t help but look down and take her fill of his magnificent broad chest. He’d changed since she’d last seen him naked. He’d filled out even more and was truly a man. Broad-shouldered and leanly muscular.

  The loose pants barely clung to his narrow hips, and his hands went there to undo the tie. Within seconds they’d fallen to the floor and he stood before her naked and proud, his erection making her eyes go wide. She’d forgotten how big he was.

  He came close again, and tipped up her chin with a finger. Then he slid the other strap of her dress down the other arm until her dress fell to her waist. With a gentle tug from his hands it joined his clothes on the floor. Now all she wore were black lace panties and her high heels. Salman looked down her body. Jamilah could feel little fire trails wherever his eyes rested, and between her legs she was aching for his touch.

  He reached and took the pin out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders, and then he said huskily, ‘Are you wet for me, Jamilah?’

  Jamilah groaned softly in eloquent answer as Salman trailed his index finger down and through the valley of her cleavage. She’d been wet for him since the moment she’d heard the helicopter bring him back to Merkazad.

  And then she groaned even louder as Salman dropped to his knees before her and slipped one shoe off and then the other, looking up at her, black eyes glittering wickedly. ‘I want to taste you.’

  He pulled her panties down over her hips, down her legs and off. Then he gently pushed her legs apart before taking her right leg and hooking it over his shoulder, opening her up to him.

  Jamilah was gone beyond any point of return, and had to put a fist to her mouth when she felt his breath feather through her dark curls. His tongue lashed out and laved her secret inner folds, finding where her clitoris throbbed for attention. She was a helpless captive to this sensual onslaught. She bit her hand, her body spiralling towards the most intense orgasm she’d ever had as Salman licked without mercy until everything exploded around her and went black for a second, her whole body throbbing in the aftermath.

  He held her legs when she would have collapsed in a heap, their support completely gone. When she’d recovered enough to focus again, he rose up in a smooth move and lifted her into his arms. Jamilah was boneless. But being held in Salman’s arms with her naked breasts against his chest was making little tremors of arousal start up all over again.

  This was how it had been between them—intense and furious. Every time. Salman laid her down gently on his bed and stood up to look at her for a long moment. His intent gaze made her feel sensual and womanly. His obvious arousal made a heady pleasure wash through her in waves. But then she couldn’t stand it any longer. She held out a hand. ‘Salman…I want you.’

  To her relief he came down on two hands over her and said gruffly, ‘I want you, too. So much it hurts.’

  She twined her hands around his neck and pulled him down on top of her, relishing his heavy weight and that potent hardness between her legs. She spread her legs wide and said huskily, ‘Show me where it hurts and I’ll kiss it better.’ She wasn’t unaware of the symbolism of her kissing away his hurts, of wanting to heal him, and emotion made her chest full.

  He touched a finger to his mouth. ‘Here…’

  Jamilah reached up and pressed her mouth to his, her tongue darting out to lick and taste, teeth nipping gently at his lower lip.

  She pulled back and Salman’s eyes glittered. He pointed to his chest, ‘Here, too…’

  Jamilah ran her hands down the sides of his powerful torso, feeling a shudder run through him, and pressed her open mouth to his chest, moving down to find a blunt nipple and licking him there before tugging gently on the hard nub.

  He shifted back and his erection slid tantalisingly along the moist folds of her sex. Jamilah’s hips lifted towards him instinctively. She ached for him so badly that she moaned in despair when he moved away for a moment to don protection.

  But then he was back, pressing down on top of her, kissing her hungrily. With a powerful move he thrust into her, making her gasp at the sensation. It had been so long for her that she was tight, and she shifted to accommodate Salman’s length.

  As Salman started to move, though, the tightness eased, and she could feel that delicious tension building and building. A light sweat broke out on her skin. She wrapped her legs around Salman’s back, causing him to slide even deeper, and she felt his chest move against her breasts with his indrawn breath. With ruthless and relentless precision he brought them higher and higher, until there was nowhere else to go. For a second Jamilah felt a moment of fear at the intensity of the climax about to hit, and when it did all she could do was cling on to Salman until she felt him tense, and then the powerful contractions of her orgasm sent him over the edge, too.

  For a long moment there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing and the pounding of their hearts. Salman eased his weight off her and she felt suddenly bereft, and hated herself for feeling like that. She remembered from before that Salman had never really indulged in post-coital tenderness, so she was shocked when he reached for her and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her, cradling her bottom with his thighs. She could feel him, still semi-hard, and blushed.

  She lay there for a long time, listening to Salman’s breaths deepen and even out. She couldn’t sleep. She was too wound up in the aftermath. She recalled her blatant provocation of Salman and winced. He might have shown her a more vulnerable side of himself than she’d ever seen, and he might have revealed that he hadn’t intended to be so cruel in his rejection of her, but she knew that he would not welcome recognising that. He was too proud, had been invulnerable for too long. And he would lash out.

  Wanting to be gone when he woke, dreading seeing his mocking visage at her easy capitulation, she carefully extricated herself from his arms and reached for a robe that was at the end of the bed. She pulled it on and tied it with shaking hands. She looked at Salman, lying sprawled on the bed like a marauding king or a pirate, and before he could wake
walked out of the room and straight to her own, where she went into the bathroom, dropped the robe, and stepped into a hot shower.

  She willed the tears not to come, hating herself for her weakness. Suddenly all her recent bravado was gone and she was the same soft-hearted naïve Jamilah, who hadn’t learnt a thing about self-protection. Suddenly she heard a sound, and whirled around to see a naked Salman standing at the door of her shower. Ridiculously she covered her breasts and spluttered, ‘What the—?’

  He was grim. ‘I’d bet money right now that you haven’t slept with anyone in a long time. You were almost as tight as the first time we slept together.’

  Water was getting into Jamilah’s eyes, and humiliation nearly made her feel nauseous. She spluttered again. ‘That is none of your business.’

  ‘Well, if it’s any consolation, I haven’t been able to sleep with anyone since I kissed you at the Sultan’s party last year.’

  Salman stepped into the steam of water and it sluiced down his olive-skinned body. His admission took the sting out of Jamilah’s humiliation. ‘You haven’t?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Not until I saw you again have I wanted to touch anyone.’

  ‘But…the blonde woman in the castle that morning?’

  He grimaced and said curtly, ‘She followed me and wouldn’t get out of my room. I hadn’t slept in nights, and I was too exhausted to carry her out.’

  He hadn’t touched her yet, and Jamilah’s hands were still over her breasts. Salman reached out and took them down. His eyes turned sultry and dark, and all Jamilah’s recent feelings of recrimination dissolved like ice on a hot coal. She was mesmerised by his statement and by him.

  He took some soap and started to lather it up, and then his hands smoothed over every part of her body, soaping and washing. She leant back against the wall, her eyelids heavy, and could only watch as Salman became more and more visibly aroused. He turned her round and came up behind her, snaking arms around her to cup her soapy breasts in his hands, his fingers trapping her nipples until she squirmed against him, his erection sliding tantalisingly between the globes of her bottom.