The Prince's Harem Box Set: The Prince's Harem Books 1-5

by Carly Roberts

  I said nothing, so he tried again.

  “Not everyone feels the same way about sex. Alesha enjoys receiving pleasure, but she is timid and unsure of some of the things I ask her to do. That is fine—she will learn. But you…”

  He ran a finger down my spine. “From the moment I first brought you into my bedchamber, you were wild as the sandstorm blowing outside the window. You are the only one who truly matches my passion, Farah. I could bring you to my chamber every night and you would never be tired of me.”

  I met his gaze. His words warmed me right through. “No,” I whispered. “I would never get tired of you.”

  “When the Indian visitor told me of the rumor, I felt fury such as I had never felt before. The thought of another man fucking you without my permission drives me insane.” His eyes became hooded.

  I shivered. “I would never disobey you, my Prince. Not like that.”

  “Then what is the problem? Do you wish you had not married me?”

  “No!” Horror flooded me. “It is not that at all.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Alesha…she thinks she might be pregnant.”

  Surprise lit his face, and he smiled. “Oh!” The thought of more children obviously pleased him. He already had one son by Jamila, and Nedira was due to give birth any moment. A few of his concubines had also borne him children.

  Then he looked puzzled again. “Why has she not told me?”

  “It is very early—she wanted to be sure.”

  “So why does it upset you? I thought you were going to be friends. Would you not like to help her? To play with the baby?”

  “I want a baby too.”

  He laughed. “You will have one. It is not a race!”

  I couldn’t stop a tear running down my cheek. “I will not get pregnant if you do not fill me with your seed.” I tried to wipe my face on my arm and failed. “I know I have to share you, Tash. But if I bear you a child, it will be a little piece of you that will belong only to me.”

  He stared at me for a long time. I knew he was trying to understand. He was such a clever man, but in matters of the heart, his youth shone through.

  His expression was unreadable. Had I made him angry? Or could he find it in his heart to forgive me now he understood?

  Chapter Seven

  The Prince rolled away from me, and got up off the bed. He walked out through the curtains without saying anything.

  I twisted my head to try to look at him, but he’d disappeared out of my line of sight, into the darkness. Sighing, I laid my head on the pillow.

  Outside, the wind howled, gusting the sand against the shutters. The streets of Samarkand would be empty, the storm filling them with a dull yellow fog, while the palm trees would be bowing under the weight of the wind.

  I thought of Alesha, and wondered if she was tucked up in bed. Would she be thinking about me? We had been friends since she had arrived, and only recently had our companionship turned sour.

  Now, I realized it was me who had caused that rift—or who had started it, anyway. I had watched the Prince treat her tenderly, and had mistaken his gentle manner for greater affection.

  Shame washed over me. I should have behaved better. The Prince had relied on me to teach Alesha the ways of the harem, and instead I had behaved like a spoilt child.

  I swallowed hard, trying not to cry again. You are the only one who truly matches my passion, he had said. I wanted to be the one he turned to when he needed that passion, but if I continued to act like this, I was only going to push him away.

  What was he doing? I couldn’t hear his pacing, but knew that the carpet would be muffling his feet. When he was troubled, he paced—I had seen him do so on many occasions when concerned with matters of state, or when trying to work out a problem.

  He would be thinking about what I’d said, trying to make sense of it. The workings of a woman’s heart were clearly a mystery to him, but more than anything he wanted to keep his harem happy.

  I did not envy him the task of trying to please four wives, numerous concubines, and many slaves. Sexually, he appeared to have no trouble keeping them all satisfied. Emotionally… That was obviously proving a more difficult problem.

  I wanted to free my wrists, turn over, get comfortable, and go to sleep, but I would find no rest until I knew he wasn’t going to be angry with me.

  I closed my eyes. The air smelled a little of sultry spices, blown in from the marketplace, cinnamon and nutmeg mixing with frankincense and myrrh. I thought of the Prince’s warm skin, the way he always smelled clean, or of sandalwood.

  I pictured the way his dark hair curled around his temples and the nape of his neck after he’d bathed, and how his skin would feel slightly damp beneath my lips. It would taste of orange oil or peppermint, and his mouth would taste sweet, of dates and Turkish Delight and wine.

  I would kiss the beautiful line of hair that led down from his belly to his groin, and watch his cock harden—if it wasn’t already erect, which it usually was. I’d teased him about it once. “Does it ever go down?” I’d asked, slightly exasperated when he’d been ready for me again only five minutes after an enthusiastic lovemaking session.

  “Is that a complaint?” he’d said, amused, pulling me toward him to claim my mouth.

  Now, my lips curved, and I shifted on the bed as ripples of longing spread through my tired muscles. It was never a complaint. I adored his insatiable nature, for sex, for knowledge, and for life. He was the most alive person I had ever known, and he made me feel alive, too.

  The mattress dipped, and I lifted my head to see the Prince padding toward me. He climbed over me, stopping when his hands were on either side of my shoulders.

  “You’re thinking rude thoughts, aren’t you?” He kissed my shoulder. “I can always tell.”

  He sounded amused. I sighed and shifted beneath him, feeling his erect cock brushing my bottom. “I was thinking of you.”

  He parted my cheeks and brushed his fingers between them, his fingers sliding down into my folds and collecting moisture before returning up to press against my tight hole. His fingers probed, slipped inside, and I rested my forehead on the pillow, shuddering.

  Shifting behind me, he parted my legs, and I waited for him to take me anally, to teach me once and for all that he was not going to let his women tell him what to do.

  To my surprise, he pushed up my left knee, exposing my pussy, and guided the tip of his cock to my entrance.

  Dropping down, he slid his arms around me, pulling me tight against his body, then pushed his hips forward and slowly—oh, so slowly—slid inside.

  I tipped my head back, my lips parting with an aaahhh of pleasure. He waited, and I felt myself stretching to accommodate him. He was not a small man, and I felt full to the brim. None of his slaves were ever allowed to take me this way, and the feel of my husband making love to me in the way that only he could brought tears of joy to my eyes.

  “I want you to be happy, princess.” He kissed my shoulder, then up my neck as he began to thrust slowly. “I admit that women are a mystery to me. I am glad you told me what concerned you.”

  I widened my legs, allowing him better access, and he withdrew until he was almost out of me, then slid right inside, deeper than before. We both groaned. His arms were tight around me, his skin hot against mine, and I felt enveloped by him, safe and secure in his warm embrace.

  “I love you,” he said. “I promise I will take you to my bed and fill you with my seed every night until you are with child.” He nuzzled my ear, moving gently inside me. “Will that make you happy?”

  A wave of emotion brought fresh tears to my eyes, and I could not stop them trickling down my face. “Yes,” I whispered.

  He touched his lips to my wet cheek. “Do not cry.”

  “Sorry. I’m not normally like this. I cannot seem to stop.”

  Pausing, he withdrew from me, ignoring my complaints. Leaning across, he finally untied my wrists, taking each one in his han
ds and rubbing them as he released them.

  “Turn over,” he said.

  I shifted onto my back.

  I waited for him to slide inside again, but he seemed to want to take his time. He moved back between my legs, but kissed down my neck to my breasts. Cupping them, he touched his tongue to my nipples, then sucked them, gently, his tongue stroking and flicking the tips.

  I sighed, and he left them to kiss down my abdomen to my belly, then to my hips. He kissed down the outside and back up the inside of my thighs, spread my legs, and parted my inner lips to stroke his tongue right up the middle to my clit.

  He swirled his tongue around it, and I squirmed and purred, loving the fact that he’d listened to what I’d told him. Usually, we fucked. Tonight, he was making love to me.

  He kissed back up my stomach, between my breasts, touched his tongue to the pulse at the base of my neck, then closed his mouth over it and sucked.

  “Mmm,” he murmured. He lifted his head. “I can taste your heartbeat.” He did it again, sucking hard enough to make me groan, and then he lowered his hips between mine and guided his cock to my entrance.

  I wrapped my legs around him, and gave another long aaahhh of satisfaction as he sank back inside me.

  He slid his hands beneath my shoulders, and I lifted my arms around his neck. He looked into my eyes as he withdrew and gave a couple of little thrusts, teasing my entrance with the head of his cock.

  “You cannot help yourself, can you?” I threw him a glare, even though I was far from angry with him. “You cannot resist torturing me.”

  “You’re fun to tease.” He pushed forward and sank deeply into me. “And you feel divine. Like hot velvet.”

  He lowered his lips to mine, and for the first time, he kissed me properly. Small, butterfly kisses from one corner of my lips to the other, across my cheeks and eyebrows, down my nose, and back to my lips.

  His tongue stroked my top lip, asking permission to enter, and I opened my mouth and gave him access. He delved his tongue inside, sliding it against mine, and I moaned and mimicked him, enjoying the invasion.

  He continued to thrust inside me, slow and sensual, exactly what I’d asked for, but even though I loved him for it, I looked up into his handsome face and realized I was fooling myself.

  I would never be Alesha to him, and I was stupid to even try. Comparing the two of us was like comparing pearls to emeralds, or a glass of cold water to a fine wine. The eyes and the palate require different things at different times to sate their hunger. Why was I trying to be Alesha, when he already had a wife like that?

  I’d spoken the truth when I’d said I wanted a child, but although I’d thought I wanted him to be gentle with me, I’d been mistaken.

  The Prince was different with Alesha, but to her, he would be different with me. With her he might be tender, but with me he was passionate, unrestrained. With me he could reveal the deepest, darkest side of his sexuality, the side that others might not cope with or be frightened by. I liked that he thought we were the same, and that he could be his true self with me. Why should I try to be sunlight when the moon was what he craved?

  You’re fun to tease, he’d said. That was why he enjoyed being with me. And that was what I should use to make him mine.

  I sank my hands into his hair, unable to resist tightening my fingers in the short dark strands. I tugged, and he lifted his head to look at me.

  Holding my breath, plucking up my courage, I slapped him across the face.

  Chapter Eight

  My slap was not too hard. But hard enough to make him gasp.

  The Prince caught my hands and pinned them above my head, and stared down at me.

  I looked into his eyes, dropped my thighs wide open, and said, “Fuck me, Tash.”

  He looked startled. Then his eyes darkened, and a sexy smile spread over his face. Inside me, I felt his cock swell.

  Lowering his head, he kissed around to my ear. “You make my brain hurt,” he murmured. Then he bit my earlobe.

  I squealed, but he just laughed and thrust deeply into me, lifting up onto his hands and knees. I sensed his exultant pleasure, as desire surged through us both.

  “You’re so fucking wet,” he said as the room filled with the sound of his slick cock sliding through my folds.

  “Don’t be so rude.” I fought against his hands, but he refused to let me go.

  “Beg me for release,” he said, lifting his hips so he was no longer grinding against me, and only the tip of his cock eased in and out of me.

  I shook my head boldly.

  He growled and kissed me, hard. “I have a good mind to call all forty slaves into my chamber and have them take you one after the other until you beg.”

  I shuddered, and he laughed and released my hands, taking me in his arms again. “Sweet princess.” He kissed me more gently. “You have a wild sand cat inside you.”

  Placing my hands on his back, I scored my nails down his skin.

  He hissed and thrust harder, and I moaned, sensing the approach of my orgasm.

  He stopped moving. My eyelids fluttered open to see his brown eyes staring into mine with a touch of steel.

  “Beg me,” he said.

  I moistened my lips.

  He kissed them. “Ask me,” he said, more softly.

  At last, after what seemed like hours of torture, I acquiesced. “Please, my Prince,” I whispered. “Give me pleasure.”

  He chuckled, apparently amused, although I saw a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

  He kissed me again, soft and searching, and began to thrust.

  When it eventually happened, I’d thought my orgasm would be fast and furious, maybe even unsatisfying.

  It was none of those things. As the Prince ground against me, stimulating my clit, and his cock stroked inside me, I felt the approach of my climax as if from a mile away. One by one, tiny muscles inside me began to tighten, starting in my belly and then travelling deep inside, ending with the slow, intense pulses of my clit and the tight clenching of my womb.

  I gave into them with a chorus of oh, oh, ohhhhs, knowing that the Prince was watching me, drinking in my bliss.

  As the final pulse died away, he began to thrust harder. My eyelids fluttered open, and I watched him take his enjoyment from me, his hips thrusting hard, the air filled with the slap of skin against skin.

  And then his body tightened, from his arms down to his legs, his muscles going rigid beneath my fingertips. He stilled for a moment, closing his eyes, and I watched his face crease with intense pleasure, a fierce frown on his forehead and his lips parted in a soundless gasp.

  His hips jerked and he groaned, and I knew he was filling me with his seed. Tears leaked from my eyes and trickled down my cheeks, but I didn’t try to stop them.

  I looked up at him with desire, with satisfaction, and with love, enjoying every moment of his climax, of his pleasure in me.

  Finally he finished, and he opened his eyes and blinked, focusing on me. A beautiful smile spread across his face, and he lowered back down, slid his arms beneath me, and pressed his lips to mine.

  “There,” he murmured. “Perhaps we have made our baby tonight.”

  “I hope not,” I said.

  His eyebrows rose.

  I shrugged. “I want to do it again tomorrow.”

  He chuckled and kissed me, lightly at first, then deep and languorous, until I sighed with contentment, feeling loved and cherished.

  Withdrawing, he tucked my knees to my chest and pulled me into his arms.

  “Would you like a son or a daughter?” He kissed my hair.

  Jamila had given him a son, Nedira a daughter. I had no doubt that he would have many more children.

  “I don’t mind. Maybe a son, who looks like you.” I cupped his cheek and brushed my thumb across his beard.

  “Or a daughter, who looks like you.” He kissed my nose.

  “I love you,” I said.

 
“I love you too.”

  I had no doubt that he meant it.

  His arm tightened around me, and he gave a long, contented sigh.

  We lay like that for a while, tired and sated, but eventually the Prince stirred and declared he was ready for sleep.

  “Do you want me to return to the harem?” I rose from the bed and wiped my thighs with the cool cloth he handed to me.

  “Not tonight.” He took my hand and led me over to the shutters. Unfastening them, he opened them wide, and we peered out at the view across the palace.

  The storm had abated, and all that remained was a light breeze that scattered glittering sand across the courtyards. The sky had cleared, and above us the moon hung three-quarters full, while the stars began to twinkle in the darkness.

  The Prince stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Look.” He pointed up at the sky and traced a constellation, one star to another. “The fertile mother. It is a sign.”

  I shivered. “I will always think of you whenever I look at the stars because you love them so.”

  “I do.” He had recently built an observatory, and he spent hours there, studying the patterns of stars and planets in the night sky.

  “I’m glad the storm has gone,” I said absently.

  “It would never have stayed for long.” He kissed my hair. “I am sorry I did not trust you. All I could think was that I had lost your affection, and it made me so very sad.”

  My throat tightened. “Never, Tash. I will love you until the day I die.”

  His hands splayed across my belly, and I knew he was thinking about the child we might have made.

  I watched a star in the constellation he had pointed out to me twinkle. I would always remember this moment, as long as I lived.

  He kissed my shoulder. “Come to bed. I am tired.”

  “I am not surprised.” I turned away from the window. He closed the shutters and fastened them. “I am shocked you have enough energy to get out of bed each day considering what you get up to when you’re in it.”

  He smacked my bottom as I walked away. “So disrespectful. I should have you whipped.”