“Enough!”
Fingers in her hair, he dragged her off his thick length. Winded, she couldn’t catch her breath to protest. Ariq dropped to his knees. Without warning, his mouth captured hers, his kiss hot and slick and slow, but his body tightened spasmodically, as if fists pummeled his stomach.
His breathing was harsh when he lifted his head. “My steel will is a blade of grass with you.”
So he’d come anyway. His seed painted the front of her dressing gown. She stared at the glistening strands, suddenly grateful that he’d pulled her away. She wouldn’t have been prepared.
“There’s more than I expected,” she said.
Ariq barked out a laugh. “Years of waiting for you.”
Years? “How long has it been for you?”
“Before I left the rebellion.” But he must have had less interest in previous lovers than Zenobia did. Tilting her chin up, he dipped his head and nipped gently at her throat. “Is it my turn?”
Was she ready?
Heart racing, Zenobia gripped his shoulders. “Yes.”
No more waiting. He stripped away her dressing gown and let it fall to the mat. She wore only her thin shift when he lifted her, and though this was nearer to what she’d imagined, nothing she felt was. His kiss was just as sweet and hot, his arms as strong, but along with the pleasure and the heat were her hope and trust. Oh, she loved him. Her whole heart was in this kiss.
Across the chamber he carried her, behind the screen where their bed lay. Moonlight through open shutters struck the pale linens. She was shaking again, no nerves now, just undeniable need tearing through her with every stroke of his tongue past her lips.
Breathless when he knelt and laid her on the bed, she reached for him. But instead of covering her body with his, he gripped the neckline of her shift and tugged it down, baring her breasts, her belly, leaving the linen bunched over her hips.
His back to the moonlight, his face was in shadow as he lowered his head. A shiver raced over her skin when his breath feathered across the sensitive tip of her breast. His long fingers skimmed up over her knees, dragging the hem of her shift upward, urging her thighs apart. The only sound was the quiet rustle of cloth, the pounding of her heart, and the rough possession in Ariq’s voice.
“My wife.”
“Yours,” she whispered, then caught her breath as his tongue leisurely circled her nipple. Oh, no no no. She couldn’t survive leisurely. Her hands fisted in his hair. “Don’t go slow. I need you in me.”
Ariq looked up at her. His smile briefly appeared before his lips slowly closed around the stiffened peak. Watching her face, he gently began to suck. Zenobia cried out, and her hips bucked, as if his mouth had plucked a string of nerves running from his mouth to her sex. His fingers slid higher.
Not high enough.
Panting, she tugged at his hair. “God! Please, Ariq.”
With another slow lick, he released her nipple and moved up to lie on his side. Braced on his elbow, he loomed over her, his erection prodding at her hip and his left hand still rising between her thighs. He said gruffly, “It will take time before I can finish again. Let me please you until then.”
So he would wait until nearer to coming again before taking her? She wanted his mouth. She wanted his hands.
But more than that, she wanted to know what she’d been waiting for. “Then spend that time inside me.”
At her response he laughed, but the sound was tortured and ended on a groan. He watched her for a long second, then his head lowered, and he said against her lips, “I’ll make you ready first.”
I am. But before she could respond his lips were coaxing hers open to the thrust of his tongue. Oh, she loved his taste. The pure pleasure of kissing him drew a moan from her throat, a moan that quieted when his hand began moving higher again. Her body stilled, and Ariq’s did, too, not kissing anymore, but simply breathing raggedly, her mouth open against his.
He reached the juncture of her legs, fingertips whispering over silky curls. Tension quivered through her thighs.
Ariq murmured soothingly against her lips, then his fingers slicked through aroused flesh. Anticipation splintered into sharp pleasure. Her back bowed, and she cried out, pushing against his hand.
With a ravenous moan, he sucked her lower lip between his teeth, then released her to growl, “So wet, my wife.”
And ready. But she could only moan in helpless need when he cupped her in his palm, the heel of his hand grinding softly against her clitoris, his longest finger sliding between her saturated folds to tease at her entrance.
“Move with me,” he demanded roughly, then his mouth covered hers again.
Excitement mounted. Bending her knees, she braced her feet against the bed and rocked with the grinding of his hand. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him tight as she sucked on his tongue, and she gloried in his shudder and his moan.
And froze again when the blunt tip of his finger breached her entrance. He pulled back to watch her. Chest heaving, she stared up into his eyes. This was odd. Not painful. Just strange to feel something where nothing had ever been before.
Gently his hand pumped, pushing his invading finger deeper.
“All right?” His voice was hoarse. “You’re tight.”
Or his finger was just big. Then she thought of his penis, so much longer and thicker, and she should have bolted to her feet and run, but the madness came over her again. Soon this sensation would be his penis. And imagining that, what had been odd suddenly felt so very good, and she gasped as her body clenched around him.
“And now tighter,” he grated, and his eyes had that glazed look again, his features starkly drawn.
“I’m all right,” she said breathlessly, then pulled his mouth to hers.
Desperately she moved with him again, her hips rising and falling with the rhythm of his hand. He slid a second finger to join the first, but the stinging pain barely registered—just the delicious sensation of being filled where she’d been empty. Crying his name, she writhed against his hand, trying to take more. Ariq groaned, and despite his claim that he would take a long time, that he’d already been satisfied, his kiss was rougher now, the thrust of his fingers more frenzied, as if his arousal was as violent as hers.
Abruptly he rose over her, his knees pushing hers wide, his fingers still pumping into her slick heat. Forearm braced beside her shoulder, he rasped harshly against her parted lips, “Need to be inside. Need to feel you around me.”
Please, please. But she couldn’t even say it, her body already at the edge, everything within her constricting as his hips settled into the cradle of her thighs, his fingers still thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. Sweat gleamed over his skin. Her hands clenched frantically on his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. Her back was arching even as his weight spread her wider, as burning pressure replaced his fingers.
Grasping her hip, Ariq rocked against her and groaned, his head bowed, his teeth gritted. “You’re even tighter.”
A sobbing breath escaped her. “Because I’m about to— I’m about to—”
Ariq cursed sharply, and she broke off with a cry as his slick fingers returned to her clitoris. The pressure at her entrance built, because he was pushing inside her, inside her; it was such insanity and he was going to be hers. Then his fingers swirled over her throbbing clit and she screamed, her body shattering into a thousand white-hot pieces, of curling toes and clutching fingers, her head thrown back and neck straining, and Ariq pushing deeper and deeper, her inner muscles convulsing around his thick shaft. He filled her, too full, the stretch was unbearable, and perfect, and already she was coming again, shuddering as her hips tilted and he drove in to the hilt.
Embedded deep, he remained there, lifting his head as aftershocks wracked her frame. His curled fingers drew her tangled hair from her face, and he softly kissed the corners of her eyes, and she didn’t realize that she’d wept until he returned to her lips and she tasted the salt.
His kiss was
leisurely again, as if he gave her time to adjust to his size, time to recover. When she moaned, and her knee slid up the length of his muscular thigh to hook around his back, he gently released her lips.
Though quietly spoken, his voice was like gravel. “Slower now?”
Because he was going to last a long time. Heart racing, she nodded.
His dark gaze searched her face. “And my seed—should I come inside you?”
Inside her. She wanted that, too. To take more. No matter what came of this time with him, whether it lasted a moment or a lifetime, she wanted everything he had to give her.
“Yes,” she said.
Fierce triumph raced across his features. Roughly his mouth found hers again, and he moved inside her on an endless stroke. Raw pleasure rolled through her body on an sensual wave, no longer a raging storm but a rising tide.
Oh, and there was so much more to discover. His scent mingled with hers and the humid night air, creating the most luscious perfume. The slick muscles of his back flexed beneath her hands and her fingertips explored the valley of his spine. She hadn’t known that there would be laughter here, but she found it in the sheer joy of being with him, in the sweet madness of it all, and he quietly laughed with her before murmuring in Mongolian against her lips. This time she understood everything he said, because it was murmuring within her, too, indelible as ink, as if his name had been tattooed beneath her skin.
“Ariq,” she whispered, and his kiss was hotter, the storm coming again after that long, intimate lull. He swept her up with it, surging deep. Clinging to his shoulders, her legs wrapping his waist, she rode it out, his touch the lightning, her heart the thunder.
She cried out when it broke, crashing through her in shattering waves. Back arched, her body quaking, she heard his groan. Mouth hot at her throat, he pounded into her before stiffening, his powerful arms braced by her shoulders, his body a strung bow. The pulse of his release within her swollen channel made her shudder again, and the sight of him above her, head thrown back and his muscles carved from stone.
Then he was flesh again, kissing her, rolling to his back and bringing her over. Gently, he withdrew from her body. Warm seed trickled between her thighs, but getting up was impossible effort for now. Drained, she lay upon his heaving chest.
There was so much to say. So much. But she had no words left at all.
Chapter Twenty-four
Through the window, the stars still ruled the sky. Aside from the distant sound of the ocean below, all was quiet. Ariq didn’t know what had awakened him until he heard Zenobia’s sigh.
Wearing her nightdress, she lay against him with her warm bottom tucked against his stomach, her head pillowed on his left biceps, and her breast cradled in his right hand. Mara and Cooper had told him that she never slept well. Apparently not even in his arms—not even after the night they’d spent, turning to each other again and again. Even Ariq had been worn down by the end.
Worn down, yet full of hope. She hadn’t only let him into her bed; she’d accepted his seed. His wife was far too practical to risk a child if she didn’t intend to stay.
And her walls were crumbling.
Not quickly. She hadn’t declared herself yet. Perhaps she’d decided to wait until her brother arrived before fully committing—following her sensible plan to learn more about each other first.
Ariq knew all that he needed to, but he could be patient. Zenobia Fox was well worth waiting for.
Her soft nipple hardened against his palm. She suddenly lifted her head and looked back at him, as if realizing that he’d woken. Long strands of hair tickled his ribs as she turned in his arms and slid her slim thigh between his. Shadows concealed her expression, but a flash of teeth revealed her smile. She angled her face up and gently kissed him.
“Good morning,” she whispered, then laid her head on his arm again.
Though there was no one else in the chamber to wake, his reply was as quiet as hers. “Good morning, wife.” If the heavens smiled on him, he would say it every morning for the rest of his life. “You can’t sleep?”
“No.”
“Why?”
She shrugged a little. “Thinking.”
And it troubled her enough to keep her awake? “Of what?”
“How to kill someone. Whether it should be quick—or more affecting to let him suffer for a while. And if I should make it obvious who murdered him or reveal the truth later.”
Her story. Before she’d fallen asleep the previous night, she’d laid her notebook and pencil by the bed. Now he understood why. As soon as she discovered her answers, he expected that she would be scribbling them down.
She shifted her weight, wriggling closer to him—and stilled. “Are you ready again?”
For her, he’d always be ready. But although his cock had been stiff since waking, he hadn’t been thinking of taking her again so soon.
Not until she’d suggested it. Immediately his erection hardened further, began to ache. His palm slid down her back to grip her hip.
“Do you want to?” Upon her hesitation, Ariq realized he’d asked the wrong question. “Are you sore?”
“A little.”
“Then we’ll wait.”
She shook against him with a muffled laugh. “I thought yesterday would be the end of waiting. But now I’ll be desperate for tonight to come.”
Ariq would, too.
Her forefinger trailed down the center of his chest. “You don’t mind?” she asked.
“That you’ll be desperate?” Not at all.
“That I put you off.”
“No.” If she couldn’t enjoy it, he wouldn’t either. “We’ve promised to accommodate each other’s customs.”
She came up on her elbow. “And?”
“I can take many wives. So if you can’t see to my needs, I’ll marry another.”
“I see.” With a disdainful sniff, she lay down again. “Where I come from, I’m allowed to take fifty husbands. All of them richer than you. And with bigger penises.”
How could he love her more? Yet he did. It filled him until his chest burned, and a long moment passed before he could tell her, “Marry them, then. They’ll never have you in bed.”
“Will you fight them all?”
“I won’t need to. If their cocks are bigger than mine, they’ll never get into you.”
She sucked in a strangled gasp, then hid her face against his chest as she laughed. He grinned, then caught her chin and kissed her.
But this was something she should know, too. “Never,” he said softly. “I will never touch another.”
“I wouldn’t, either.” She looked up at him, her fingers idly tangling in his hair behind his ear before her chest lifted on another sigh. “Helene said she’ll visit today. You’ll be out?”
“Yes.”
“Should I remind the ambassador that you can’t eat with the mask on? Or will you come back at midday?”
He’d gone longer than a day without eating. But he kissed the top of her head and promised, “I’ll try to come back.”
To see her, if for no other reason.
She nodded, then asked, “Is the war machine so very terrible? The Horde has so many. I can’t believe that one machine is so important that the admiral and the general would risk all this. Is it big?”
“Yes.”
“How big? This tower has twenty levels. If the machine stood next to it, which level would it reach? The tenth? Eleventh?”
“If it stood beside this tower, you could look out that window and still only see the machine’s base.” At her gasp, he said, “They called it the Skybreaker because my father wanted a machine that could tear Khan Tengri from his seat in the Eternal Blue Sky.”
“Good heavens,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“How did such a thing remain secret?”
“When my father was killed, most of those who knew of it were killed with him.” And their heads mounted on pikes. “If there were any aside from my
mother who lived, they must have decided to stay quiet as well. You don’t ask me where it is?”
He’d thought she would. She asked about everything else.
She shook her head. “I know what it is to have lives depend on the secrets you keep. I do wonder. But it’s dangerous knowledge, isn’t it? Your town is threatened because of it. The whole western coast. So although I’m curious, I don’t need to know.”
If she ever did, Ariq would tell her. He gathered her closer.
Head nestled under his chin, she slid her hand over his ribs and up to the back of his shoulder. “When do you expect word from Krakentown?”
“Within two days. Blanchett should arrive this morning.”
“So they’ll know all that has happened here.” When he nodded, she said softly, “Did you see the Empress’s Eyes when you were visiting with the clans? Are they truly everywhere?”
The clockwork devices. Tension stiffened his body. “Yes. Do they bother you?”
Ariq wanted to smash every one of them.
“Yes. But what can be done?”
Nothing. Now.
As if sensing his frustration, she smoothed her hand down his back. “What do you think they are?”
“They watch people. Or make the people think they are being watched.” Which could be just as effective. “Dissidents wear the plague masks.”
She looked up at him. “What?”
“One of the men we met with said he wasn’t surprised to see a rebel in a mask. It was a joke. But it told me why there’s still a quarantine. If dissidents use the masks to hide from the Empress’s Eyes, the masks could become a symbol of rebellion.”
“But instead a mask still means that someone is an outsider,” she said slowly. “A foreigner.”
And so it would seem that any trouble or uprising was started by outsiders, too. Potentially diseased outsiders. Not her own people.
With a sharp little breath, Zenobia rolled out of his arms. She reached for her notebook.
Ariq laughed and waited for her to return. When she did, he pulled her close. “Will you be able to sleep again now?”
The Kraken King Part VI Page 6
