by Susan Cliff
When he came back down to earth, he withdrew from her body. Warning bells clanged in the back of his mind. He hadn’t used a condom. He also hadn’t given her an orgasm.
Damn. Those were the two basics. Failing either was grounds for immediate dismissal from a lady’s bedroom. This was the woman he was in love with, too. He should be impressing her with his best moves, not banging her against a rock like a caveman.
He buttoned his pants and sank to a sitting position. He’d have to impress her later, after he’d caught his second wind. She didn’t seem disappointed. She fixed her clothes and snuggled against him.
“I didn’t use anything,” he said.
“It’s okay.”
“Are you protected?”
“No.”
He frowned at her answer. “Then it’s not okay, Layah.”
She sighed, touching her lips to his neck. “It is the wrong time of month.”
Her confidence didn’t reassure him, but he set aside that problem for now. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you pleasure.”
“You brought me pleasure.”
“You didn’t come. I was out of control.”
“I liked that. It was very exciting.”
He shook his head in wonder. He’d never met a woman as adventurous as her. She took his breath away, over and over again. “If we live through the night, I’ll make it up to you. Slowly, for hours, in a real bed.”
She kissed his lips. “We will live.”
He rose to his feet and donned his shirt. Her optimism was rubbing off on him. They’d made it this far. They’d already overcome insurmountable odds. Maybe they’d evade the Iranian authorities and ride off into the sunset together. Stranger things had happened. “Are you ready? We should try to find a road before dark.”
She nodded her agreement and they started hiking again. It was late afternoon. He felt anxious, but invigorated. Yeah, he was in Iran, and he’d attacked three border guards. They were in a boatload of trouble. What else was new? This wasn’t the worst situation he’d been in. He’d just gotten laid, and that always improved his outlook. He was with a beautiful, sexy, passionate woman who couldn’t keep her hands off him.
They reached the other side of the mountain and looked around. He didn’t see any police. There was a road at the base of the hill that headed away from the border. He consulted the map from his pocket. It was in Arabic, so he couldn’t read it.
“I think this road goes to Hadishahr,” she said.
“Is that a big city?”
“No, but it might have a hotel.”
“It’s too far to walk.”
“We can get a ride. People in Iran are very friendly.”
“Yeah, those guards were super nice.”
She smiled at his sarcasm, unoffended. They made their way downhill and reached the road at sunset. Hud kept his eyes peeled for police cars. There wasn’t a single vehicle for miles. When a truck appeared in the distance, he stuck out his thumb.
Layah grabbed his hand, eyes wide. “That is not how you get a ride in Iran!”
“How do you do it?”
She made a gesture to slow down, with her palm flat.
“What does the thumb mean?”
“It is a crude sexual suggestion.”
He held his palm flat, chuckling at his mistake. The driver pulled over immediately. Hud let Layah do the talking. Whatever she said gained them a ride. There was only one seat, so Hud climbed in first. Layah sat on his lap.
The driver didn’t seem suspicious about foreigners. Layah spoke to him in Farsi, or some other language, and she said a few words to Hud in Arabic every so often. He nodded as if he understood and tried to ignore the feel of her delicious curves against him. Memories of their last encounter made it difficult to concentrate on anything else. Her bottom wiggled and shifted with every bump in the road.
Soon it was full dark, and he was at half-mast, but Hud had no complaints. They were a safe distance from the border crossing, headed toward a town they could hide in. They hadn’t been harmed in the scuffle. It was a miracle they were alive.
He didn’t know what the future held. He had no idea how he’d get out of Iran, or if he’d ever be free again. All he knew was that he had to make the most of every moment with Layah before their time ran out.
Chapter 16
Layah relaxed against Hudson, her back cradled to his chest.
She couldn’t believe they were on the run together in Iran. He’d warned her of this possibility, but she hadn’t imagined it would actually happen. She’d expected to cross into Armenia without incident.
She considered what he’d said earlier. Maybe someone in Rahim’s circle, like Abdul Al-Bayat, had told the guards to look for an American in a group of backpackers. Hudson was easy to pick out of a crowd. The guards might have been paid to detain him at the border or even transport him to neighboring Azerbaijan. Al-Bayat was known for his ruthlessness and tenacity. The Da’esh executioner despised Assyrians and Americans. He would travel to the ends of the earth to recapture an enemy.
Her thoughts moved from Al-Bayat to Ashur, who’d been distraught at the border. She hoped he would forgive her for staying with Hudson. At least she knew Ashur was safe in Armenia with her parents and her cousins. The Da’esh would find no allies there, and they weren’t interested in her family. They wanted Hudson, their prize catch.
She couldn’t allow anyone to recapture him. She would do anything for him.
She was in love with him.
He hadn’t let her say the words, and they hadn’t made a commitment to each other. She didn’t know how long they could be together, but she couldn’t worry about tomorrow. If tonight was all they had, she would enjoy it.
They reached Hadishahr in the early evening. The driver dropped them at a small hotel across from an internet café. She thanked him for the kindness and climbed off Hudson’s lap. He winced in discomfort as he exited the vehicle.
“Is your injury bothering you?” she asked.
He shook his head, his mouth quirking. She made a mental note to examine his wound after they checked in. Then she handed him a few bills from her pocket. Miri had given her some cash before they left the hotel. “You should pay for the room. It is customary.”
“What do I say?”
She told him the right phrase in Arabic, which he repeated perfectly. He could learn the language if he applied himself. When they reached the front desk, Hudson asked for a room. The clerk said they could have one ready in thirty minutes. Layah nodded. Hudson overpaid, but Layah didn’t interfere. She tugged on his arm and mentioned the internet café in Turkish. He pretended to understand.
“What happened?” he asked when they were outside again.
“They have to prepare the room. We will eat.”
He didn’t argue with that.
“I have to send a message to my parents in Yerevan. Do you wish to contact someone? Your family?”
“I can’t risk it,” he said, after a pause. “Any communications between here and the US could be monitored.”
“Who would you notify, if you could?”
“My mom, and my commander.”
“Are you close with your mother?”
“Yes.”
Layah wanted to ask more questions, but they’d arrived at the café. “We are pretending to be Turkish.”
“I’ll just smile and nod.”
“Perfect.”
They entered the café, where Layah took a seat across from Hudson. She ordered tea and khoresh, a type of stew with rice. Her mother, who’d been born in Iran, used to make the dish for their family. Layah excused herself to use one of the computers. She wrote an email to her parents to let them know she was okay. She said she would come to Yerevan soon, and she asked them to give Ashur a hug from her.
When she
returned, the stew had arrived. Hudson ate most of it, though Layah enjoyed the flavor. She couldn’t speak Turkish well enough to fake an entire conversation, so she stayed quiet. She sipped her tea and watched him. She was nervous about their night together, and eager to be alone with him.
“Do you like the food?” she asked in Arabic.
“Iaa,” he said, eating more.
She knew a few Turkish phrases. “I love you.”
He smiled and nodded.
She looked away, her throat tight. She was setting herself up for heartbreak. It was one thing to confess her desire for him. It was quite another to confess her feelings like a character in a Turkish soap opera. He had no idea what she was saying.
They finished the meal and walked across the street together. The night sky twinkled with far-off stars. He grasped her hand and held it. They got a key for the room. The accommodations appeared comfortable. He locked the door behind her, his eyes on her mouth.
She held up a palm to stop him from advancing. He looked ready to lift her against the nearest wall and take her. Which was fine, but they had a nice bed and a private bath. She was dirty and sweaty and sticky from the day’s various activities. “If you wish to make love to me properly, I will bathe.”
He backed away from her, nodding. She ducked into the bathroom and stripped naked. She took her time in the shower, washing every inch of her body and shampooing her hair. When she was finished, she felt like a new woman.
He showered next. She sat at the edge of the bed and waited. He was quick. He emerged with a towel around his waist. Her eyes took a leisurely path from his well-muscled torso to his bare feet. Her stomach fluttered with awareness as he approached the bed. She drew the towel up to expose his injured thigh.
“Does it ache?”
“A little.”
She pressed against his hard flesh. “There is no swelling.”
“You’re looking in the wrong place.”
She moved her gaze to his erection, which was definitely swollen. She removed the towel for a closer inspection. Her throat went dry at the sight of him. “Oh my.”
“What’s your diagnosis?”
She wrapped her hand around his thick shaft. He was like a stone under hot, tender skin.
“I think you have a fever.”
He strained toward her, his jaw tight.
She stroked him up and down. “You need immediate attention. This organ is dangerously enlarged.”
He choked out a laugh. “Can you treat me?”
“Yes. I have the cure right here.” She took off her own towel, exposing her naked body. “I recommend immersion therapy.”
He stared at her as if he’d never seen a nude woman before. He’d seen everything, but not all at once. A pulse throbbed at the base of his throat. He pushed her back on the bed and climbed on top of her, his gaze smoldering. “I’m not ready for immersion.”
“No?”
“I’ll have to work up to it.”
She twined her arms around his neck, smiling.
He smiled back at her. “I like the way you play doctor.”
She touched her lips to his. “You’re a good patient.”
“Remember how you said I should find another woman to make love to?”
“Yes.”
“What did you want me to do to her?”
Heat prickled over the surface of her skin. “Kiss her breasts.”
He dipped his head with relish, nuzzling her ample flesh. His mouth closed around one taut nipple, then the other. He used his tongue and lips and teeth until she was lost in pleasure, her hands buried in his damp hair. A greedy pulse throbbed between her legs.
“Where else should I kiss?”
She moaned, pushing his head lower.
“Her stomach?”
“Lower.”
“Her inner thighs?”
Layah spread hers wide. He kissed the inside of her knee and moved his way up. By the time he reached the apex of her arousal, she was quivering with anticipation. He skipped over her center and moved toward the other knee.
“You are teasing this poor woman,” she panted.
“She likes it.”
With a groan, Layah took matters into her own hands and stroked her needy flesh. She was slippery and swollen.
“That’s cheating,” he said. “Now I have to start over.”
She gasped as he flipped her onto her stomach and gave the same treatment to the backs of her thighs. He kissed every inch of her spine, from the cleft of her bottom to the nape of her neck. When he moved south again, she was writhing with impatience. She rolled over and pushed him on his back. Then she lowered her mouth to his erection, and she didn’t tease. She parted her lips and took him deep.
He let her pleasure him, burying a hand in her hair. She couldn’t manage his entire length, but she tried. His face was exquisitely tense as he watched her mouth move up and down. He pulled her away after a few moments, shuddering.
She touched her tingling lips. “I have bad news about your condition.”
“What’s that?”
“If you refuse treatment, you could erupt.”
He smirked at the warning, climbing on top of her again. He held her thighs apart and buried his tongue between them. She didn’t expect him to be shy or tentative, and he wasn’t. He sucked and licked her in bold strokes. She was so primed for orgasm that she couldn’t hold off. She bucked against his mouth, exploding in pleasure.
He laughed at her lightning-fast climax.
“That was unfair,” she said, light-headed.
“I agree. You’re too easy.”
She slapped his shoulder in a weak protest. He stayed where he was and reapplied himself to the task, tasting her leisurely. She didn’t object to a second round. She’d never been loved like this before, as if her body was a delicious dessert. It was clear that he relished the act. He was a man of strong appetites in more ways than one. He flicked his tongue over her clitoris until she screamed his name. She came again, clutching his hair.
He wore a satisfied expression. “Should I go for three?”
“I can’t,” she panted.
“I bet you can.”
“I want you inside me.”
“I won’t last that way.”
“I don’t care. Just fill me.”
He gave her what she asked for. Stretching out on top of her, he held her gaze and pushed inside. She was slippery from two orgasms, and accommodated him easily. Her eyes fluttered closed as he filled her to the hilt.
“Look at me,” he said, withdrawing a little.
She opened her eyes.
He thrust inside again.
On the mountain, they’d been rushed and desperate. In this room they were safe, and he had time to do it right. Not that she was complaining about their earlier encounter. She’d loved every second of it. His heat, his size, his roughness. Their first coupling had been explosive. It had doused the fire that threatened to consume them both.
What he was doing to her now was different. It was gentler, more focused and more deliberate. It was a culmination of everything that had been building between them, and a response to her unspoken confession. It was a communication of the words he could not say. He buried his hands in her hair and took her to heaven. He kissed her, loved her, completed her, breathed life into her. Tears spilled from her eyes. He kissed those, too. When she cried out in pleasure, he drank the exaltation from her lips. She watched him fill her, and it was beautiful. They were connected, body and soul.
He withdrew at the moment of climax, his face taut. She wanted to feel him, so she wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft. He was hot and slick from her moisture, pulsing in her hand. He spilled across her belly with a hoarse groan. She marveled at the sight. Perhaps because she was riding a sexual high, the by-product
of their union seemed precious. His seed glistened on her skin, painting her in warmth.
He rolled onto his back, completely spent. “I’m dead. You killed me.”
She laughed, her tummy quivering. He passed her a tissue from the box next to the bed, so she wiped his seed away. “You don’t have to withdraw.”
He made a grunting sound.
She cuddled against his side. “I want your child.”
His eyes flew open. “You said it was the wrong time of month.”
“It is. But I wish to pretend otherwise. The next time, you can stay inside me.”
“Give me a minute. I’m still dead.”
She walked her fingertips down his chest. His manhood twitched at her touch.
“Half-dead,” he corrected.
She laughed, and he moved on top of her again. He kissed her and tickled her until she was gasping for breath. Instead of starting another round, they took a break. The room had a television, which seemed like a divine luxury. He turned it on and flipped through the channels until he found a news station. Her Farsi was rusty, but she didn’t hear anything about an American fugitive or an attack at the border.
“Bring me that map,” he said, patting her bottom.
She retrieved the map from her backpack and spread it on top of the bed. There were no easy ways out of Iran.
“Is there another border crossing into Armenia?” he asked.
“Not from Iran.”
“What’s this place again?”
“Azerbaijan.”
“Why are there two countries named Azerbaijan?”
“It is one country, two land masses.”
“Can we go there?”
“There is a crossing in Jolfa, but it will be heavily guarded.”
“What about here?”
She considered the route he was suggesting, in a remote area that stretched from Iran to Azerbaijan and ended in Armenia. “We would have to enter illegally, and travel over rough terrain.”
“Now you’re worried about breaking rules?”
