by Connie Mason
“Caress my jewels,” he murmured in a voice thick with desire.
“Your jewels?” Willow choked out.
“The sacs that hold my seed. Touch them. Hold them in your hands.”
Her hand closed gently around a sac, felt it harden, saw his sex jerk in response. He groaned as if in pain. She released him instantly. He groaned louder and returned her hand to his manhood. He felt satiny warm, yet hard as stone, every incredible inch of him throbbing with life. Driven by curiosity and her own need, Willow caressed up and down his great length. His breath quickened, becoming harsh gasps that thundered in and out of his chest.
“Stop now, beauty, before you ruin both your pleasure and mine. Turkish men take great pride in giving their women pleasure.”
“Their women,” Willow repeated. “Why do Turkish men feel they need more than one woman?”
“Because ’tis not natural for a man to confine himself to one woman. It takes many women to satisfy a virile man. In my world, a man’s virility is measured by the number of concubines he owns. But we please our women as no English or Frankish man can, as I shall prove to you.”
Would her fiancé have been able to satisfy her? Willow wondered. Somehow she doubted it. But before she’d met Dariq she wouldn’t have known the difference. She would have been content with the crumbs of her husband’s affection, unaware of what she was missing.
After experiencing Dariq’s passion, she knew that no other man would ever satisfy her, so why not enjoy what he offered while she could?
Willow’s thoughts scattered when Dariq’s mouth came down hungrily on hers, his tongue pushing past her lips, sending her senses soaring.
Suddenly she pulled back, searching Dariq’s face. “I do want your passion, my lord Prince. Give me enough pleasure to last the rest of my life.”
He grasped her face between his large hands and stared into her eyes. “My passion can be a fierce thing, Willow. Are you ready to accept it?”
Burgeoning excitement shot through her. Beyond speech, she nodded.
Dariq began to kiss her face softly, gently. Her lips. Each of her cheeks. The tip of her nose. Her chin. Her closed eyes. After he had showered her face with kisses, he slowly caressed her body, smoothing his hands over her shoulders, her breasts, her stomach, her buttocks. He fondled the firm mounds until Willow wanted to scream at him to hurry, to continue with his sweet torture.
Dariq could have caressed Willow till eternity. She was sweetly curved with a narrow waist, magnificent breasts and long, shapely legs. He returned his attention to her breasts, cupping them in his large palms, then bringing them to his mouth, suckling gently upon her coral nipples.
Willow stirred beneath him, the erotic sensation of his lips upon her flesh incredibly arousing. She arched her back, soaring with sweet pleasure. The feeling was erotic and delicious, and she purred her approval. She was so intent upon the wet tug of Dariq’s lips upon her nipple that she momentarily lost track of his hands.
Then she felt them seeking out places that made her tingle and burn, while at the same time his mouth continued feasting at her breasts. Her nipples hardened against his tongue; she heard his breath quicken as an almost unbearable pressure built between her legs.
The heel of his palm rested lightly on the smooth pink mound at the apex of her thighs, massaging in erotic circles. When he pressed lightly on a spot low on her stomach, the sudden burst of pleasure forced a startled cry from her lips.
“What did you just do?”
Dariq grinned. “I can give you pleasure in a thousand different ways.”
His hand slid between her thighs. “Your love juices are flowing.”
“My what?”
He removed his dewy fingers, grasped her hand and brought it between her legs. “You are wet for me. Can you feel it? If I took you now, my cock would slide inside you on a cushion of moisture.”
She pulled her hand free. It came away wet. Her face flooded with color. His hand returned to her dewy petals. “Dariq, what are you … oh, God… don’t … Stop.”
He laughed. “What did you say?”
“Don’t… stop.”
“Never.” Then he created a new torment by gently probing her with his fingers.
Willow moaned. How could she bear it? She went wild beneath him when he lowered his head and kissed her there, between her legs, feasting on her sensitive flesh until she wanted to scream.
He raised his head and gave her a long, poignant look. “I’m going to bring you pleasure with my mouth first.”
His fingers played upon her slick flesh, parting her as his mouth returned to his banquet. His tongue was like a living flame, delving inside her, tasting, taunting, sending tiny bursts of fire through her body. She felt helpless, as if she were drowning in a whirlpool of raw sensation. And then it began: the heady rise of blood through her veins, the tremors rocking her body, the final explosion that hurled her toward oblivion. Undulating waves of rapture carried her to a distant shore; she heard a low keening and realized it was coming from her own mouth.
“This is just the beginning, beauty,” Dariq murmured in a voice as tightly drawn as a bow.
He scooted upward and knelt over her, watching her expression as she spiraled down from the high place he had sent her.
When Willow opened her eyes, she caught sight of Dariq’s throbbing erection. He was huge, the purple head engorged with blood. She had seen him aroused before, but never like this. Her wits scattered when he began pressing himself inside her, stretching her, pushing deeper, harder, filling her.
“You are still tight,” he whispered against her mouth. She tasted herself on his lips.
“It hurts,” Willow complained, shifting to accommodate his great length.
“You are still new to this. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did the first time, does it?”
She looked up at him, confusion glazing her eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“Your tightness makes the pleasure all the sweeter,” Dariq said. “Shall I stop?”
“Nay, oh, nay. It feels better now.” She moved her hips, inviting Dariq to thrust deeper, harder.
“Give yourself over to me, beauty. Hold back nothing. Move with me, open to me, come with me.”
The delicious friction of his sex thrusting and withdrawing inside her released a primitive instinct Willow could not suppress. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she opened herself fully to him, raising her hips to meet his powerful strokes.
Waves of liquid fire rippled across her skin and pooled where they were joined. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as he drove her higher and higher, his muscles bunching and shifting beneath her fingertips. She felt passion, so recently spent, rebuilding, ready to burst forth again. Consuming swells of incredible sensation grew, crested, sweeping her upward into mindless bliss. She screamed his name.
Dariq felt her sheath spasm around him, heard his name on her lips and lost control. He thrust deep, held, then found his own pleasure, spewing his seed inside her. He lost all sense of time and place as he spiraled down from euphoria to the most perfect contentment he had ever known.
Dariq had always considered himself a master of sensuality. He was a hedonist who enjoyed erotic pleasure and delighted in finding new and diverse ways to please women. The concubines he’d left behind in Istanbul had vied for his attention because he always left them satisfied, giving unstintingly of himself. Beautiful women, erotic play and sexual excitement were as necessary to him as eating and breathing.
Making love to Willow had been manna for his starving soul.
Suddenly he went still, realizing what he had just done. Cursing his carelessness, he pulled out and rolled over on his back. This was the second time he had lost himself inside Willow, and the consequences could foil his well-laid plans. He prayed to both Allah and God that his seed hadn’t found fertile ground.
He glanced at Willow. Her eyes were closed and her breathing erratic. Raising himself on one elbow, he kissed her ey
elids.
“Did you enjoy that?”
Her eyes flew open. “Aye, it was even better than the first time.”
“That first time went too fast. I hadn’t had a woman in months.” He stroked her breasts. “The night is still young. Give me a few minutes to restore myself, my passionate beauty, and then we will explore some of the fascinating positions available to lovers. The next time I will be more careful,” he promised.
Willow’s breath caught. “How can you…”
“… be more careful? I won’t release my seed inside you. It’s simply a matter of self-control, which I seem to lack where you are concerned.”
“How can you make love again so soon?”
“I am a man of enormous appetites, my sweet.”
“Perhaps I should return to the harem while you rest.”
His arms tightened around her. “You will remain here, in my chamber. I have yet to deal with Safiye.”
“What will happen to her?”
“You do realize she planned your death, do you not?”
“Aye, how could I not? I know she deserves punishment, but I beg you, do not be overly harsh with her. She acted from jealousy.”
“You want me to spare her life?”
Willow blanched. “You intend to … to kill her?”
Dariq shook his head. “I am not a cruel man. Killing women and children is abhorrent to me. I am not my brother.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I shall put her on a ship and send her to the slave market in Algiers. If fate is kind, she will find a master who adores her. Does that meet with your approval?”
“Is there no other option? Perhaps one of your pirates would take her as his concubine. Or even wed her.”
“As angry as I am with Safiye, I would never give her to a pirate. As I said before, I am not a brutal man by nature, but most pirates are. Safiye betrayed me; I can no longer bear the sight of her. Therefore, she must go.”
Willow could understand Dariq’s feelings. She herself wouldn’t feel comfortable with Safiye anywhere near her. The other woman’s jealousy had taken a deadly turn.
“Enough of Safiye,” Dariq said. He leaned over her and gave her a sexually charged smile. “I do believe I am restored.”
Willow swallowed—hard. While they had been talking, his sex had grown and hardened. She stared at it, marveling at his recuperative powers. Dariq left the bed, padded over to the washstand and dipped a soft cloth into a bowl of scented water. He used the cloth on himself first, then rinsed it and returned to the bed.
“Spread your legs for me, beauty, so that I can cleanse my seed from you.”
Willow’s legs shifted apart; he touched the cloth to her. The scent of jasmine drifted up as he washed away all traces of their recent loving. Then he replaced the cloth in the basin and returned to the bed, carrying a small vial.
“What is that?” Willow asked, though she had a good idea.
“Scented oil. I used it on you before, remember?”
How can I forget? “I remember.”
“Turn on your stomach.”
Willow did not protest as she flipped over on her stomach. She moaned in pleasure as he massaged fragrant oil into her skin, lavishing it over her back, her shoulders, her buttocks, dipping briefly to her more intimate parts. It felt so wondrously relaxing that she nearly fell asleep. Then he turned her onto her back and began the process again. She gasped when she felt his fingers spread the swollen lips of her sex and lave them with oil.
She arched violently as his fingers pressed inside her. The erotic scent of spices wafting up to her was intensely arousing.
“Dariq…” His name fell from her lips on a long sigh.
“You are ready, beauty. The scent of your love juices combined with the oil is an aphrodisiac to my senses.”
She let out a tiny squeal as he lifted her and settled her on top of him.
“Take me inside you.”
She opened her legs and straddled him. He grasped her bottom and slid effortlessly inside her oil-slick passage. There was no pain, only pleasure. More pleasure than she could possibly bear. He gripped her hard and bucked his hips; she rode him shamelessly, enjoying it, rushing inexorably toward the promise of ecstasy.
Even as she tasted bliss, she remembered the future Dariq intended for her, and anger at him honed her passion to a sharp edge. And when she reached that ultimate peak, anger and passion combined to create an explosion of sensation so intense she tasted heaven. She climaxed violently, tumbling into a whirlpool of incandescent bliss.
Dariq followed soon afterward, stiffening and shouting her name. She fell against the pillows, limp and exhausted.
Willow slept soundly as Dariq rose up on his elbow and watched her sleep. Desire clutched at his groin. The knowledge that he wanted her again stunned him. After taking Willow twice, he still ached for her. As sexually experienced as he was, this kind of need twisting his gut was new to him. At least the second time he had caught himself before giving Willow his seed. But, Allah, what he wouldn’t have given to stay inside her!
How could he give Willow up? That unappealing thought kept him up far into the night. It was too late to renege on his offer. His plan had already been implemented. Soon Ahmed would return with Ibrahim’s answer to his proposal. Dariq never doubted that Ibrahim would accept the trade he had proposed. But how would his brother react when he learned Willow wasn’t the virgin he expected?
Dariq cursed beneath his breath. Why hadn’t he been able to keep his hands off Willow? He knew it was more than her ethereal beauty and the color of her hair that enthralled him. There was something about Willow that defied explanation. She had more spirit than any other woman he had known, and he had known many. Her passion was stunning, and he had taken full advantage of it.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t restore her virginity.
What a terrible muddle he had made of things. This business would have been pretty straightforward had he kept his distance and his hands off Willow. He felt her shiver and reached down to pull a light cover over her. Then he drew her into his arms. He wanted to make love to her again, but denied himself when she snuggled against him and let out a contented little sigh.
Sometime during the darkest part of the night Willow stirred, awakening Dariq.
“Are you all right, beauty?”
“I am thirsty.”
“And I am hungry,” Dariq murmured. “If I quench your thirst, will you satisfy my hunger?”
It took a moment for Willow’s confused mind to grasp his meaning. “Again?”
Laughter rumbled in his chest. “And again and again.”
He scooped her into his arms and eased them both from the bed.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To my private hammam. A bath will benefit us both.”
He carried her through a door to a small room tiled in aqua and white and lit by dozens of sputtering candles whose flames were nearly extinguished. The room was redolent with incense; in the dead of night it seemed heavy and cloying. A sunken tub nearly filled the chamber. Dariq carried her down two marble steps and lowered her into the bath.
“Rest here while I fetch you something to drink.”
“How do you keep the water warm?” Willow wondered as she sank down into the soothing water.
“It’s piped in from the kitchen.”
Willow stretched, groaning when her muscles protested. She ached in all the intimate places Dariq had spent hours exploring. She closed her eyes, enjoying the flow of water over her weary body. Dariq returned a short time later with two goblets of orange liquid. He handed one to Willow, then joined her in the bath.
“This is good—what is it?” Willow asked after her first sip.
“A mixture of fruit juices; I’m glad you like it. I promise it will quench your thirst.”
He let her finish her juice before taking the goblet from her and setting it on the rim of the tub, then he reached for her. “Making love in
water can be very erotic … and extremely satisfying.”
A puff of air left Willow’s throat. Everything Dariq did to her was erotic and intensely satisfying.
He began kissing her everywhere, her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her mouth, prodding her lips open with his tongue so he could taste her fully. The tang of fruit on his tongue excited her, and she savored him as if he were fine wine.
When his lips left hers and moved down her body, she shivered and moaned his name. She adored the way her prince made her body thrum and her senses spiral out of control. Then he was inside her, the delicious pressure of his engorged sex so powerfully erotic that her hips began to buck against him. Water surged and splashed around them as their passion escalated, until it became an undulating tidal wave, laving all the sensitive places on Willow’s body.
She grasped his shoulders and clung to him as his manhood surged deep, deeper, sending her higher and higher, until she reached the stars and exploded. She was still flying when she heard Dariq shout and felt warmth flood her womb.
It took several minutes to realize that Dariq hadn’t pulled out in time. He was still embedded inside her, his head resting against her forehead. He lifted his head and stared at her.
“I could not help myself. I should have had Baba prepare something to render you infertile, but I never intended to touch you again after that first time.”
“Permanently infertile?” Willow gasped.
“Nay, just for the time you are with me.”
“Am I to be with you again?”
He sent her an endearing grin. “Aye, my innocent beauty. You will be in my bed until the day we part.”
She searched his face. “Perhaps it is too late for precautions. I may have already conceived.”
He frowned. “I will confer with Baba. Perhaps she knows of something that will rid you of the babe if my seed found fertile ground.”
Willow recoiled in alarm. Though she didn’t voice her concern, in her heart she knew she would never rid herself of Dariq’s babe.
