“You’re so big!” she replies, but can’t stop herself moving as she becomes accustomed to my size. “But it feels so good!”
Her squirming excites me and I can’t help myself; I start to thrust inside her, pumping in and out. I’m desperately trying to keep control, wanting her to come first, but her tightness, her inexperienced movements are proving a serious challenge to my discipline. Her muscles tighten, and with relief, I call out to her, “Come for me.” With a scream, she throws her head back as she comes with such intensity that her muscles clench like a vice around me and I lose it, cum bursting out from me, spurting as though I’m never going to stop. My arms tighten around her as I continue to pulse inside her, my cock hardly deflating at all. Her muscles continue to spasm as it feels like she milks me completely, but I’ll still semi-hard. As I take her mouth in mine, our tongues toying together, I thrust gently in and out of her slippery channel. It seems no time at all before my cock comes fully erect and I start to push deeper inside her. I know I’m hitting the right spot as she moans and grasps at me, her nails biting into my arms. I’m already close and hammer into her; she’s already coming, and again she takes me over the edge too. Shit! At this rate, she’ll fucking drain me. I have never known anything like this before …
When I pull out, she takes her legs from around me and shakily puts her feet on the silty bottom of the stream. I remove the overfilled condom relieved, after our previous conversation, that it appears to have survived the onslaught. I’m not sure I can say the same for my legs as they tremble while I make my way towards the sandy shore. I’m holding her around the waist and she’s leaning on me, needing support. We reach the bank and both collapse on the ground, panting for breath. I stare down at her and give a soft laugh.
“I have no control around you,” I tell her when eventually I get enough air into my lungs to be able to speak again.
She is lying on her back on the warm sand. As I speak, she turns on to her side, with her head cocked at what I’d said.
“Is that a bad thing?” she asks, innocently.
I chuckle. “I like to be in control, sweetheart.” Pulling her down to me I take her mouth in a gentle kiss. “It’s never been like this with anyone else.” I pull back, the expression in my eyes hopefully implying I’m telling her the truth. Sex has never been like this for me before. Always I’m in control; I might be rough, take a woman fast, but always with conscious thought behind what I want to do. With Cara, I’m like a schoolboy, unable to restrain myself. I’m not planning my every move; it just happens. And I fucking love it!
“Really?” She can’t let herself believe me.
I love her breathless whisper and the wonder in her eyes.
“Really,” I confirm. She rests back in the sun, and I do likewise. I wouldn’t have believed it but my fucking cock is twitching back into life again as I start to imagine introducing her to my lifestyle. She’d look lovely with nipple clamps, and the way she responded to my bite, she’ll enjoy them. I start to think about the toys she and I could play with, and realise we’re not going to be doing anything else today if I don’t get my mind on to a different subject. I get to my feet and hold out my hand to pull her up.
“Swim. Then we eat.”
We swim, eat a glorious picnic, and then make love again. Curbing my baser instincts, I bring her to completion twice before taking my pleasure. I relish the awareness that, slowly, she’s becoming less timid in my company. I move over her, gently taking her lips, and idly run my hands up her sides. I must have caught her just right as she squirms and tries to wriggle away. Smirking, I do it again.
“You’re ticklish!” Her movements almost make my depleted cock come to life again, but I still at the expression on her face; there’s a lack of comprehension there, and she’s acting as if it’s an alien feeling.
“Am I?”
I have to query that. “Haven’t you ever been tickled before?”
She just shakes her head, and something inside me cries out for her. “Not even your mother, when you were a child?”
Her eyes become shuttered, and I have to lean forwards to catch her words as she mumbles, “I didn’t have that kind of relationship with my mother. She was too worried about keeping me out of Benting’s reach to play with me.” A piece of my heart breaks for the scarred child, moved from place to place, and probably given little affection. Has she ever known love of any sort?
I react in a physical way. Suddenly my hands are all over her. “Well, we’ve got some exploring to do, haven’t we?” I tickle her sides again, and then move down the bed, tickling the back of her knees. I then grab her feet and my fingers dance on her soles. She’s trying to evade my touch, giggling and laughing, trying to push me away.
I love the sounds coming out of her and continue teasing her until at last she cries out, tears of laughter escaping from her eyes.
“No more, Nijad. No more! I can’t take it. Stop, please stop!” As I still my hands and rise up her body, she reaches out, putting her hands either side of my head and looking deep into my eyes. “OK, you’ve proved your point: I’m ticklish.” She’s smiling, a genuine smile covering all her face.
Grinning widely, I lower my lips to kiss her once more, pleased that I’ve given her this simple pleasure, and awoken something inside her. What other secrets does she hold for me to discover? I can’t wait to explore and find out. It hits me again how different she is from any other woman I’ve ever known.
She’s relaxed now, resting her head on my shoulder. We talk, as lovers do, telling each other a bit about our lives. As I probe, I begin to understand her sorry existence before coming to Amahad, and praise Allah I’ve been given the chance to bring this woman to life. As we talk, I start to see the confident woman I’d suspected was underneath beginning to emerge from her shell. I’m enjoying being with her, talking to her, learning about each other; so different from my usual behaviour when I don’t want to know much about the woman I’m with, except what turns her on during sex. I can’t remember ever feeling this comfortable with a female ever before, completely content to discuss my life with her … until she has to ask that fucking question.
“Nijad,” she starts.
“Hmm?” Lying naked on the silk cushions covering the bed in the tent, I’m feeling about as tranquil as it’s possible to be.
She leans up on one elbow, looking down at me.
“Why are you here, in the desert? Why aren’t you in the palace with your brothers?”
I swear under my breath; I’m not prepared for that question, though I should have expected it. Getting to my feet and leaving her lying on the cushions, I move to the tent entrance, needing the space to gather my thoughts.
“Marriage to me is supposed to be a punishment,” she starts hesitantly, as if only just realising the fact. She swallows and clears her throat. “Why?”
My back straightens as I turn to look at her.
“Is this punishment, Cara?” I wave at the cushions, indicating where I have just been lying. “What we did just now … did that feel like punishment?”
She shakes her head but is unable to let it drop.
“But that’s what it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?”
I turn back and stare out into the valley. Then I take a deep breath and return to her side. I settle back on the cushions and take her into my arms.
“I did something that I’ll regret for the rest of my life,” I tell her gently, willing her to believe me. “And to make retribution, I was banished to the desert and have to obey the commands of the ruler. My father. One of those demands was that I marry the woman of his choice.”
Her eyes narrow. She’s not stupid. She knows I’m holding back. But I just don’t want to admit everything, although she’ll find out in time. I don’t want to scare her. For just a little fucking time I wish to forget the nightmares, to stop thinking about what I’m capable of. Maybe, just maybe, it won’t happen again. Cara is not Chantelle. I’d never hurt her … would I? I la
y my head back, resting it on my arm, and decide to tell her a bit of my past.
“I was sent to school in England when I was ten. My brothers were at the same school but they were older and we didn’t mix there. Although I would come back to visit, Amahad quickly began to feel alien, not really a home. After school, I went to Oxford, and then Cambridge where I took a post-grad degree. My visits home became less frequent. I got involved with a new crowd, made friends. I didn’t seem to have anything in common with my family, except my brother Jasim.”
“That explains why you speak such good English.”
“And French, German, Spanish, and a few others.” I grin at her. “I didn’t stay in England after university. I moved around.” I frown a little as I grow serious again. “I suppose I was a typical playboy sheikh. More money than sense and, as the youngest son, no real likelihood of being involved in the running of the country.” I pause and add, “While I had a distinct lack of interest in the country, I couldn’t avoid my duty. I was called back to do my time in the military. And that’s when I was exposed to the harsher side of life.”
Her hand tightens against mine. “That’s when you got your scars?” she whispers.
“No, I earned those the first year after I arrived here. I was, perhaps, a little too enthusiastic when I came to the desert in the beginning.” The terrible guilt I had been forced to live with had made me reckless. I scowl as I remember how, for a while, I hadn’t cared whether I lived or died. Then, slowly, it had dawned on me that death was the easy way out. I’d come to realise that my penance was living.
She seems interested, and gestures for me to continue. Now I’ve started it’s becoming easier to tell her about my life. “I did the minimum time I could in the army. I left after a year. I went back to Europe, but the violence I’d seen meant I couldn’t settle back into the lifestyle I’d previously enjoyed.”
Now I’ve come to the part I am going to gloss over. “There was a scandal. The family called me back. They suggested I come to the desert to lead the border forces.” I hesitate and then continue. “It seemed a good option. I was ready to take responsibility.”
And here, in the depths of nowhere, I was unlikely to hurt anyone I shouldn’t. I acknowledge to myself, but don’t admit it out loud.
She knows I haven’t answered her question, and presses me. “Will you tell me what you did? And why you did it? To help me understand?”
There’s a hesitancy in the way she’s asking me which tells me she’s wary of the answer. What would she do if she knew the truth? She can’t run away, but it would kill our developing relationship before it has a chance to grow. I’m fucking sure of that. I’m not ready to make a full confession.
“I brought shame on my family,” I reply evasively. “Can we just leave it at that?” I sit up, leaning over to her, looking into her eyes, compelling her to believe me. “It’s over and done with, and I’m not the same man, now.”
She swallows, and I realise words are not enough. I’m going to have to prove by my actions that I’m sincere. I look away, staring out through the open flap of the tent, seeing the beauty in the scenery outside contrasting so greatly with the blackness of my soul. Why was this gentle woman sent to me? She doesn’t deserve this; she was already broken.
She touches my arm to draw back my attention. I have to say something, but all I can offer her is a vague response that will tell her absolutely nothing. I take a firm hold of her shoulders, my fingers curling into her skin, gripping her tightly enough to hold her attention.
“I’m not that man any more, Cara,” I reiterate. “I’ve changed.” I shrug. “I suppose you could say I’ve grown up.” I need to end this conversation now. Deliberately I change the tone of my voice, making it soft, velvety, pitching it low. “I need you to trust me.”
She’s staring at me. The changes in her pupils tell me my voice has registered with her, that she’s aware I don’t want to talk any longer. I can see thoughts warring in her head, pulling her between continuing her interrogation, and accepting that we move it on to a more physical plane. My face feels taut as I wait for her response. When she raises her hand and strokes my cheek, I know she’s going to give me a reprieve.
I watch as she takes a breath. “I trust you,” she murmurs. And then she takes the initiative and pulls my head down to hers, moving her lips against mine, her tongue demanding entry. The relief I feel is immense, but I have to regain control. Quickly, I take over the caress, deepen it, and turn it into something more. We’re communicating, but without words. I’ve never felt this close to a woman before, never known the need to kiss until neither of us can breathe any longer, feeling emotions that I have no fucking business entertaining. I feel like I’m stepping off a cliff as I reach for yet another condom, then start to make love to her again. And with no urgency, just a poignant gentleness. We’re not just fucking, and I’ve never had any experience like it. She comes apart in my mouth, and with my cock inside her.
The heat of the day and the exertion makes her relax beside me, still curled round my body, my arm under her head. Her body is limp, exhausted, and I know she’s about to go to sleep. I need to tell her the one thing that will keep her safe, hoping she’s still awake enough for the words to register. So I tell her softly, “You must trust me with everything, Cara. Never keep secrets.”
Chapter 15
Cara
I must have fallen asleep. Waking, I stretch lazily on the cushions, taking a second to remember where I am. Outside I can hear someone moving around; Nijad can’t be far away. A smile comes to my face and then disappears as I recall our conversation and reflect on what he told me. Should I worry about why he was banished to the desert? My gut feeling is that there’s something he isn’t telling me. I turn over on to my back. In reality he is little more than a stranger to me, yet over the past twenty-four hours I’ve come to feel closer to Nijad than I ever have to anyone, even, and I hate to admit it, my mother. Sometimes I wonder whether she regretted having me. I know she felt guilty, moving me around so often, from the way she looked at me sometimes when the teenage years hit. She was such a beauty, and I felt ashamed that I was a disappointment to her. With Nijad, there’s nothing to question in his expression when he looks at me, nothing to say he has to force himself to withhold any disgust or pity. Wiping my hands down my face, I don’t feel the scars in the way I used to, and my appearance has no adverse effects on my new husband, if the number of times he’s made love to me is any indication. I grimace as I change position; perhaps it’s been too many times, given that I was so recently a virgin. I don’t mind, though; he can take me as often as he desires! I never realised that I had such sensuality inside me, and an appetite to match his own.
I reflect on the day, on the words he spoke and the emotions he shared. Should I press for more details? Would that make me feel better or worse? Feeling determined, I decide to judge him as I find him. I’m a different person from the recluse locked up in command central; maybe the desert has changed him too. Whatever he’s done in the past doesn’t need to be a rock around his neck now. I’m not going to poke any more at what is obviously an open wound for him. Resolution made, I sit up and draw my clothes together.
Hearing the sound of jingling I realise Nijad must be tacking up the horses for the return journey, so I dress as fast as I can and hurry out of the tent to find him, and our mounts, ready and waiting. He’s sporting a broad grin and his eyes open in appreciation as I appear. I run my hand through my hair, which, as normal, is doing its own thing, having been left to dry by itself. I must look dreadful, but something in his expression tells me he thinks otherwise, and I feel myself glow.
“Your ride awaits, ma’am,” he jokes, after looking me up and down. “Literally.” His face drops as he sees me grimace when I take a step towards him. “What’s the matter?”
I redden, embarrassed. He’s a man of the world; he probably doesn’t even realise. He leaves the horses and comes over, his hands reaching out to clasp m
y arms, and looks at me quizzically. He waits for me to speak.
“Um …” I can feel my cheeks flush a brighter shade. His head tilts to the side. Oh, for goodness sake, I can admit to this. “I’m a bit saddle-sore, and, er, sore in other ways,” I tell him self-consciously. “And it’s a long ride back.”
Instead of sympathy or remorse, Nijad pulls himself up, looking almost conceited, and is unable to keep a note of satisfaction from his voice.
“Ah, so you’ll be thinking about me every step of the way.” His smirking smile gets to me, and I can’t help it. I thump his arm in annoyance. All right for him to say; he isn’t facing a two-hour ride with a chafed nether region.
All the fun disappears from his voice.
“You’re going to pay for that!” he tells me sternly. Aware that I might have taken liberties with his royal person, I step away; our intimacy has made me relax too far with him. Is he joking? Or have I overstepped a line? Realising I don’t yet know how to take him, I see his eyes narrow, and then an easy smile quickly covers his face as he pulls me into his body, gently stroking my back. “I’m a man, sweetheart,” he starts. “I like the thought that I have thoroughly ravished my woman.” His face falls. “Although I should have remembered how new you are to this, and perhaps have had more restraint. But it’s just so difficult when I’m around you.” He plants a kiss on my nose. “I blame you for being irresistible. I promise I’ll take excellent care of you when we get back.”
I still need time to understand him, to know where the boundaries lie, but I return his grin. I might feel sore on the return journey, but every step will remind me of our lovemaking. Pulling myself up to my full, but unremarkable, height, I walk over to the mare and untie her reins from the fence.
“Do you want to ride back with me again? You could ride with me the whole way if it would be more comfortable?”
Stolen Lives (Blood Brothers Book 1) Page 19
