Black Keys (The Colorblind Trilogy #1)

by Rose B Mashal

  It was heavenly good.

  “Princess,” he breathed into my ear before kissing me right under it at the edge of my jawline. “Beautiful, beautiful Princess.” His whispers were as hot as his hands that I wanted to feel even more of. I wanted to feel him, all of him.

  “What should I do to you, My Beautiful Princess? What should I do to you?”

  Kiss me.

  Hug me.

  Touch me.

  Oh, please, touch me.

  I could only moan in response. In the next moment, the prince’s hands were running over my sides, tightening a bit as he moved me slightly away from his lap. I was about to protest and demand the same closeness again, only to have him push me gently over onto my back, bringing his body to hover on top of mine, as our lips stayed busy with another burning kiss.

  The feel of his body over mine was something I couldn’t describe. I already knew I’d never felt as safe or as protected as I felt in his arms, but this...this was way beyond feeling safety and protection. This felt as if I was outside on a rainy night in the cold and finally found shelter.

  He was my safety. My comfort. My protection. And my shelter. My very secure and care-filled shelter.

  His lips were on my neck again, kissing, licking and sucking tenderly, but with enough pressure to tell me exactly how much he desired me. Maybe just as much as I desired and wanted him, though his arousal that was grinding the slightest bit on my thigh was enough to make me aware of how turned on by me he really was.

  My hand reached for the ends of his shirt and I pulled it up and over his head, wanting to touch more of him, and to feel his bare skin with my hands. He helped me with it and then threw it to the floor before returning to his sweet assault on my neck and collarbone.

  I enjoyed the groans that he let out every time I moved my hand over his back, chest and abs. I enjoyed feeling him so close to me. I enjoyed hearing his whispers, ‘Princess, Princess, Princess.’ And I loved it when he panted, ‘My Princess.’ It made my stomach flutter, my heart beat faster, and my need for him grow stronger.

  “Is this–” he panted, “Is this okay?” His hand was touching the top of my shoulder where he had pulled my dress aside a little to bare it a bit and taste it with his lips and tongue. Now he was tugging at the dress a little more, asking my permission first before going any further.

  I let my eyes do all the talking before I finally confirmed it by nodding my head. It earned me a passionate kiss from him as his hand went to the side of my left breast, and I felt him fumbling a little before I realized that he was pulling down a thin zipper that I hadn’t even known was there, releasing it when it reached my side by the edge of my ribcage. His eyes were hungry and lustful as he looked down at my purple lace bra, which was doing very little to hide my erect nipples.

  “So beautiful,” was all he said before his lips sucked on the skin at the swell of my breast, causing my eyes to roll back in my head. Then, when he pulled down my bra cup and his tongue touched my nipple, I just couldn’t control my moans any longer.

  “Oh, God! Yes!” I gasped.

  He swirled his tongue around my nipple before he sucked it into his mouth while his hand fondled my other breast, only leaving it to do the same to my other nipple, making me moan even louder. My hands pulled his head closer to my chest, arching my back to feel him even more–if that was possible. I brought my left leg up and put it around his back, because I couldn’t help but want to feel his arousal somewhere other than on my thigh and leg. This way, I had him right where I wanted him the most. Once he felt what I wanted him to feel, he grunted around my nipple and bit it, causing me to cry out in pleasure and to pull on his hair even more.

  His hand found the side of my bare thigh, where my dress had ridden up when I put my leg over his back, and he started rubbing it softly, stroking my skin and kneading my flesh with his hand while spreading kisses all over my jawline. My nipples were over-sensitive from his assault on them and rubbing against his bare chest as he ground his arousal right over my center.

  I was close. So close. And I didn’t want him to stop. Ever.

  His hand touched the string of my thong over my hip, and he was just about to pull it down. He had it in his hand and everything, he only needed to tug a little and it’d be down my legs, but then his hand, his lips, his grinding...everything just stopped.

  He stopped. Just like that, he froze in place.

  I opened my eyes to look at him, my vision unclear and my body calling to him, only to feel him lifting himself off of me, saying a word under his breath that I couldn’t understand because, though it was too quiet, I was sure it wasn’t even English. He sat back on the couch and looked down at me, his hair wild from my hands and his lips reddish from my own. His eyes held an expression I’d never seen in them before, or maybe I had. Was that...guilt?

  I sat up and held my open dress over my chest, covering myself. We were both still panting and our chests were heaving with the gasping breaths we took. My eyes questioned his own guilt- and shame-filled ones, but he only replied to me by completely removing himself from the couch after murmuring, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” That was about all he said before disappearing into the bathroom.

  What the…?

  I turned on the couch, touching my feet to the floor, with my hand still clutching the dress to my chest, my mouth agape, my eyes wide and mind confused. I stared at the closed bathroom door. For ages.

  What on earth was that? We were–… And he was–… And I was just so–… What’s his problem?

  When I felt like I’d wondered enough and there was no point in pondering it–even more because everything led to a dead end when I searched for an answer or an explanation for his actions–I got up, adjusting my bra back into place only to have my dress fall to form a pile around my feet, leaving me wearing only my bra and panties.

  I was too pissed to care, to be honest, and just kicked the dress away and walked over to the bed, hiding under the covers and getting lost in my thoughts and feelings.

  I felt...rejected, and I had no freaking clue why he’d just stopped that way, feeling all guilty, then apologizing before disappearing into the bathroom and taking his sweet time inside. It felt like it had been hours since he’d gone in there.

  I lay on my side and stared straight ahead at the window. The night was dark, and the slight wind was ruffling the light curtains slowly.

  I kept thinking of all of the possible reasons why he’d acted that way, coming up with one scenario after another to answer the questions in my head.

  I thought that maybe he’d thought I wasn’t okay with it? But how could he think that way? I was the one who’d started it, I was the one who’d straddled his lap, and I was the one who gave him her ‘Yes’ when he asked for permission. How could he think that I didn’t want it, and that he needed to apologize for it? No, that couldn’t be it.

  My mind tried to think that maybe he hadn’t liked doing that with me. Maybe I felt wrong to him? Maybe he wanted someone else? Something else? But, no. I’d felt it. I’d felt how much he desired me and how much he wanted me.

  Just thinking of the possibility that he might really still be engaged, to that girl who looks like an angel but speaks like the devil, tied my stomach in knots, because the guilt in his eyes had no other explanation than that he felt as if he was cheating on her with me, or something along those lines. The thought of how good he was, how it was very clear that it wasn’t the first time he’d touched a girl that way–his hands and tongue belonged to an expert. The fact that he knew of a zipper in my dress that I didn’t know anything about, and how he might have dealt with something like that before, made my chest tighten and ache at the same time. It wasn’t a nice feeling...at all.

  I knew he’d never had sex with anyone before, because he told me it was a grave sin in his religion to have sex outside of marriage and he wouldn’t do that. Just the thought of him fooling around with someone else almost made me lose my mind with the amount of jea
lousy I was feeling–which was very stupid of me–but I couldn’t help it.

  I hated that I might not be good enough for him. I hated that he might not be able to trust me after what I’d done, even though he’d said he understood my reasons. I thought maybe he needed someone of his race and beliefs, even if he was very open-minded about our different cultures and religions. Maybe he needed someone who spoke his language, someone who addressed him with ‘Your Highness’ and ‘Your Majesty’ while meaning it, and not actually mocking him like I once had.

  Maybe it was just that...he loved her.

  My stomach twisted even more, and I swore I could feel my heart as it clenched in my chest. I started biting the inside of my cheeks, a nasty habit that I’d always had when really, really nervous about something I couldn’t control. After what felt like two years and three months, the prince came out of the bathroom.

  I didn’t move.

  I heard him as he opened the door to the closet, and went in there, staying for longer than anyone would need to get dressed, and I realized he must be praying – though he wasn’t praying in there that much anymore, nor had ever taken so much time...or maybe he was just avoiding me.

  I hated that idea. I hated that what had happened, which I thought was so sweet and lovely, had turned us all awkward around each other, or worse, caused me to deal with his silent treatment or whatever. I hated it.

  Sometime later, I heard knocking on the door. Surely it was Mona, and I had no doubt that she was here to take the unfinished dinner dishes away, but I was too frustrated, pissed off, and confused to even find the heart to reply to her. I thought maybe the prince would do it. But he didn’t. Mona knocked two more times before she gave up, and I didn’t hear anymore knocking after that.

  Later, the prince finally came out, going to the couch where he had slept more than one night, and where we were just making out, lying there while I pretended to be sleeping.

  It upset me. A lot.

  Somehow, somewhere in the back of my mind, I wished he would sleep in the bed with me. After all, it was a king-sized bed, too big for only me, and was made for the two of us. But I figured that after the first time I’d woken up here to find him in bed with me, and how I’d reacted to that, was enough to scare him away from ever sleeping on that bed again.

  I sighed softly and hoped for sleep to come soon, so my mind would stop going in a million directions just for a few hours.

  “Princess?” I heard the quiet voice calling. “Princess, please wake up.”

  “Hmm?” I replied with closed eyes. Sleeping felt so good, I missed it and wanted to go back to it right away.

  “Princess?” the voice tried again. “I have to go in a minute.”

  That woke me up.

  “What?” I asked sleepily, my voice harsh from sleep. “You have to go?” I saw that the prince was dressed the same as he had been when he first met me, the same as the wedding night: all in white with the white-and-red thing he wore on his head.

  “Morning, Princess,” he smiled tenderly. “Yes, it’s Friday and I have to go to pray.”

  I sat up, ignoring how his eyes drifted away when my bra-covered chest was on full display as the covers dropped down when I moved. “What? Why can’t you do it here?” I asked, holding the covers to my chest so he would look at me again. I tried my hardest not to feel so bad about the fact that he didn’t even want to look at me that way, as if I were a stranger to him, feeling the panic as it started to make its way to my heart at the thought of him leaving the wing.

  “It’s an obligation, Princess. We must go to pray and listen to a lecture every Friday,” he explained, his eyes looking into mine again.

  “What about the seven-day rule?” It was only the sixth day.

  “No rule comes before God’s laws.” he said quietly.

  I swallowed, frowning, wanting him to stay, but not knowing how to tell him that I was scared of him leaving me alone. I only felt safe with him close by. I just looked at him with longing, begging him with my eyes to stay, to understand what I wanted without me telling him so.

  “It’ll only take two hours maximum, Princess,” he said, reassuring me and promising, as if he was able to read my mind and what I wanted to tell him. “There are guards all around the outside of the wing, it’s completely secure and safe. Don’t worry, okay?”

  I nodded slowly, still not liking him to be away.

  “If you need anything, just tell Mona,” he said and got up, my eyes never leaving him. He then bent down and kissed my hair, not even my forehead, not even touching me with his hands, and it was upsetting. He smelled so good, I wanted to hug him and beg him to stay, just like a little kid. “I’ll be back before you know it.” His smile was soft, sweet, but the elephant in the room was too huge not to make him all awkward around me, as he was now.

  I nodded again, still too upset to talk; watching him leave the bedroom almost brought me to tears. It was silly. Sure, I could go two hours without him. Or at least, I would try.

  “Mona!” I called, moving my hand down my hair and rubbing the back of my neck.

  “Yes, Princess,” she smiled brightly once she stepped into the room. “Can I get you anything?” She brought me fluffy slippers from underneath the bed and put them beside the bed on the floor, near where I would put my feet once I got out of bed.

  “What time is it?” I asked, stretching, not caring about my nudeness in front of her.

  “Eleven-thirty.”

  “Ah! I overslept,” I said, getting out of bed. Mona hurriedly brought me a silky blue robe that was on the hanger beside the window. As she helped me put it on, I noticed that her eyes were on the bed, looking closely as if she was searching for something.

  I shrugged it off and asked her, “Prepare me a bath, please.”

  “Of course,” she said and started making her way to the bathroom before she stopped and turned. “Um, do you wish me to put some herbs in the tub, Princess?” she asked, a soft smile on her lips and a pink blush on her cheeks.

  I frowned. Why would I want herbs in th–…Oh!

  “No, Mona, that won’t be necessary,” I replied, realizing that she thought I’d had sex with the prince last night, and that was why she’d been eyeing the sheets a minute ago–maybe because of how I was dressed, or because I’d ignored her knocks last night, or whatever.

  Nothing happened! Was what I told her between my words, and I knew she heard it well, because her smile fell before nodding and going to make me the bath.

  “Is the masjed far from the palace?” I asked Mona, as I sipped on my coffee. It had only been half an hour since he’d left and I already wanted him back.

  “No, Princess, it’s not far, you can see it from the sunroom, if you wish,” she told me, as she finished making the bed.

  I nodded as I chewed my food hurriedly so I could reply to her. “Please!” I said eagerly.

  Inside the sunroom, I stood beside Mona in front of one of the glass walls on the side, watching as she pointed out the enormous building that was the masjed. It was nearby, standing at the corner of the garden that surrounded the palace from the inside. We watched as a large number of men entered the main door. It looked like our church on a Sunday, and that made me smile, disliking the fact that I had missed it last week because it was the day of the wedding. I had no idea if there were any churches here, but doubted I could’ve understood anything anyway even if I’d managed to get to one.

  I had to ask, “Is it only men who are allowed there?” because I couldn’t see any women entering.

  “No, Princess, we are. It’s just...it’s mandatory for men, but it’s the women’s choice if they want to go or not.”

  “Oh! I see,” was my reply.

  “Ah! Finally!” Mona said after a minute of silence, making me frown and look where she was looking.

  “Finally what?”

  “The princesses are leaving the palace,” she pointed toward the other side, and I could see a few women covered from head to
toe in black. “They’ve been sleeping over since before the wedding,”

  I giggled. “How can you even tell they are princesses?”

  “Oh, trust me, Princess,” she said, and then pointed, “Do you see the one in the front who’s just about to get into the car?”

  “Uh-huh…?”

  “That is Princess Talia, always showing a part of what she’s wearing underneath her cloak as she walks. Nobody does that except her, and she always has her younger cousins following her like sheep,” she said, seemingly not fond of her–which I liked a lot.

  Talia! That was the devil’s name, I remembered.

  “Uh, the prince’s fiancée, right?” I asked, my heart in my throat as I waited for her answer, because God knows if the prince had lied to me about that…

  Mona looked at me as if I’d grown two heads. “Fiancée? Of course not! She wishes!” was Mona’s reply, which caused me to start breathing again. “Who told you that she was?”

  “Um, when I was in the king’s wing waiting for the prince, I told Prince Fahd I didn’t want to stay alone, and he said he’d bring one of the princesses to keep me company, an–”

  “And of course Princess Talia volunteered so she could bother you,” Mona interrupted, finishing my words for me while assuming correctly.

  I nodded, twisting my lips to the side.

  Mona shook her head. “She’s not his fiancée. Yes, it’s an unspoken rule that they should marry since her father is the next in line if–God forbid – the king passes away without his sons having an heir. It would offer the two princes the role at ruling a state or region instead of nothing if they didn’t marry his daughters, but it didn’t happen–and thank God for that!”