by Sabrina York
Much to his consternation, she scooted even farther from him on the pillows. “I am…what? What? You can say it. Fat?”
Fat? He stared at her in astonishment. Did she really think she was fat? She was just right. “What’s the word they use?” He searched his mind, trying to remember the woman who had come to him in the seventeenth century. “Rubenesque?”
“No.” Aimalee crossed her arms over her chest. “The word they use is fat.”
“I think you are perfect.” Delicious. Divine.
“I’m hardly a fashion plate. Not in today’s world. Chunky is definitely not in style.”
Keeshan laughed. “What do I care about what is in style? I have lived in this lamp for thousands of years. Styles come and go like a leaf on the wind. All I care about is what I like. And this,” he punctuated his comment with a squeeze to her delightfully curved buttocks, “is what I like.”
She huffed again. A pout. “Why don’t I believe you?”
He grinned. “Because you’re not paying attention?” Gently, he took her hand and set it upon his cock. He was hard. Then again, all he needed was a glimpse of her and he was hard.
It was partly the enchantment—he never had much of a choice about his arousal or his ability to perform. That was his punishment, after all. But this time, with Aimalee, it was different. This time he really wanted to.
He wanted to be with her.
More than that, he wanted her to want to him too.
Without the damn spell.
Chapter Five
Oh. She was tempted.
This was the most delicious dream. As difficult as it was for her to release her logical mind, Aimalee tried. Here was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, splayed out before her on velvet pillows like a pasha. And he wanted her.
He beckoned her with his eyes and his words and his talented touch.
Perhaps it was the magic he had mentioned or perhaps it was the champagne—she’d already had several delicious glasses—but her resistance was melting away. She wanted nothing more than to explore that ridged chest with her tongue, test his thick thighs against her palms, explore that tantalizing bulge…
Their auras tangled and she felt the tug. His soul, pulling hers closer.
Whether it was magic or a dream or a hallucination, why resist?
She glanced down at the breeches barely covering his groin and was gratified to see the thick log of his cock engorged and throbbing beneath the thin fabric. Excitement shot through her at the thought that a man like him, a man like Keeshan, could want her.
Men had never ardently pursued her—she was hardly the type to enflame passions. But then she’d never really been mindless with lust herself. Every man she’d ever met had somehow been lacking. Wrong. Even Carter.
She flushed as the thought percolated through her brain.
No. Not Carter.
She was in love with Carter. He was perfect. Wonderful. Clearly if anyone was lacking in that relationship it was she.
And what kind of girlfriend was she anyway, to be lusting after another man—fantasy or not?
“What are you thinking about?” Keeshan’s voice rumbled around her, sending shivers over her skin. But wait. No. It was a finger, trailing torment from the tender flesh of her neck down her arm. He placed a gentle kiss on the blue veins of her inner wrist. All thoughts of Carter scuttled.
Aimalee stifled a shudder and looked away.
Keeshan captured her chin and brought her gaze back to his. It burned through her like fire. “What are you thinking about? Why does it make you sad?”
“I’m not sad.”
His thumb dabbed at the downturned corners of her mouth then traced her lower lip as though he couldn’t resist. He tipped his head to the side and studied her. His words, though unspoken, were clear.
“I’m not sad. Just confused.”
“About what?”
Aimalee shrugged one shoulder and gestured to the room with the enchanted table that was never empty, the light source no scientific observation could identify, the man, the beautiful man lounging on the plush cushions, wanting—for some reason—her. “This. All this. Is this a dream?”
His smile was a halfhearted attempt. “If you want it to be.”
Aimalee frowned. That was hardly an answer. Though she had eaten all she desired and was pleasantly full, a deeper hunger, an ache, a vague annoyance, gnawed at her. With a start, she realized what that deeper hunger was.
Savage animal lust was a new sensation for her and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.
On the one hand, Keeshan was splayed before her ready, willing and able to give her what she wanted. On the other hand there was Carter.
Her boyfriend.
Whom she loved.
But if this was nothing but a fantasy, could guilt truly hold sway?
Apparently it could.
She cleared her throat and cast about for a change of subject. Something, anything to derail her errant thoughts. “So tell me…”
“Yes?” His voice was a low rumble, a seduction in itself. It sent sheets of fire racing through her body, ignited a bubbling volcano within her, making logical thought impossible.
“Um. Tell me about this magic.”
He groaned and rested his forehead on hers. Lord, he was hot. So hot and vibrant. Smelled of sandalwood and cloves. A swell of desire and comfort and…rightness washed over her.
“Can you feel it?” he whispered.
“I don’t know what I feel.” But she did. Without conscious intent, she swayed toward him.
His nostrils flared. He licked his lips. “Please, Aimalee.”
“Please what?”
“Kiss me.”
“Tell me, Keeshan. Is this a dream?”
“A dream come true.” His tone ensorcelled her.
The room was warm and aromatic. The pillows were plush and inviting. And the man…the man was big and hard and hot. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to sink into him, to consume him, to explore. So she did.
It was only a dream. And she was hungry for him. And he seemed to burn with passion for her.
So she did.
She tasted his surprise as her lips brushed against his, then his elation and his growing passion as those lips firmed and opened, welcoming her in. He made a move to rise above her but she pressed him back down on the pillows.
This was her dream. For once she wanted to be in control.
Before he could protest, she knelt up and angled a leg over his waist.
Dear heavens, he was broad. She could barely straddle his breadth. But she did. And oh. Oh.
She settled herself down and pushed up his tunic to reveal his chest then nudged back at the hard length pressing against her buttocks. He hissed at the contact but she ignored him and lifted herself up, just an inch or two, and she scooted back. When she came down again, it was on his ridge, riding him, rubbing him against her slit. She hadn’t realized how tender her clit had become but she realized it now when she rocked forward and flattened it against his hardness.
He moaned and twitched impatiently beneath her but she could tell he was trying to hold still, let her have her way with him. A muscle twitched in his cheek. His expression smoldered.
“Do you like this?” she asked, trying to be playful when what she really wanted was to eat him up.
“No.” His voice was guttered, strained.
She stilled, suddenly self-conscious. But her embarrassment lasted only a second. It took that long for her to realize he did in fact like this. But he didn’t want to like it. She pretended a pout and undulated her hips slowly, making a torturous circuit, rubbing herself to bliss against his rod. “How about this?”
He whimpered.
She bent down and kissed his abdomen, just beside the straining head of his cock, which was now peeping out from beneath the band of his breeches. She didn’t touch it but she did breathe upon it. It jerked in response and the beading drop of cum at the tip oozed larger.
She longed to lap at it with her tongue but she knew, somehow she knew, it would be his undoing.
Instead she let her kisses travel up his chest, nibbling, licking and sucking every fascinating bulge and ripple. All the while she rubbed herself against him like a cat, dampening his breeches with each pass.
“Please, Aimalee.” He winced as she nipped at his nipple.
She raised her head and met his tortured gaze. She was stretched across him, his blanket, grinding her clit against his cock. It was so good she simply couldn’t stop. She could feast upon him, ride him, all day. “Please what?”
“Please.” His neck and shoulders bunched with strain. Errant tears spiked his lashes.
Suddenly comprehension dawned. The man was suffering. Truly suffering. It took everything in him to give her the reins, to let her control their passion. And naughty girl that she was, she was teasing him.
He was close to breaking.
“Ah.” She made a few minor adjustments in their clothing and rose up above him. He greedily tracked her movements and a welter of relief washed over his tight features when she took him, hard and thick and throbbing, into her hand. “Is this what you want?” She nudged her hips forward and rubbed the sticky tip of his cock against her slit.
He thrust up but it wasn’t a predatory thrust. It was a reflexive, desperate lurch.
Aimalee loved that he had allowed, nay, encouraged, her to be the aggressor. But while she’d wholly enjoyed her exploration of his body, enough was enough.
She was wet and aching and needy.
Slowly, carefully, she fitted his cock into the mouth of her pussy and eased down upon him. His groan shook the room.
“God! Yes!” He released his death grip on the pillows and took hold of her hips instead. He blew out a hiss as he guided her all the way down.
His thickness filled her, expanded her. She quivered against the orgasm stalking her. With one final upward lunge, Keeshan finished the act, sealing them together, sending shudders of delight lancing her. Then he lowered his hips back down to the pillows, taking her with him, looking up at her in awe.
“Good,” he grunted. “So good.”
Aimalee tightened around him and delighted in his responding jerk. She had never done this before, ridden a man. She rather liked it. But…
“What do I do now?”
A wicked grin tweaked his lips. “Just follow my lead,” he said, repositioning his grip on her hips. When he moved her in tiny circles, she nearly fainted at the sensation. But she got the point and once she recovered from the nerve-tingling orgasm, began to undulate and rotate on his enormous cock.
As delightful as it was for her, it was torment for him. She soon had him writhing beneath her, panting and groaning and pleading. She paused in her ministrations to gaze down at him, so noble and strong, so taut with desire. She had to kiss him.
His lips were damp, restless. A wildness skirted his eyes.
“Tell me what you need,” she whispered. “Let me please you.”
“I want to fuck you.”
Aimalee laughed. Her breasts, beneath the lace, bobbled. “We are fucking, aren’t we?”
“I want to fuck you.”
Her heart lurched at his intensity. “All right—”
Before the words were past her lips, he’d lifted them both off the pillows and turned over without breaking their connection. Now he rose above her, seated within her, and stared at her like a wild animal sighting its prey.
He nudged her legs farther apart and bent to take her aching nipple in his mouth. He sucked and sucked hard. Aimalee arched into him as lightning shot through her but there was nowhere to go as he was flush against her, delving deep. His hot length kissed her womb and she trembled. A strange, keening ache enveloped her. An orgasm unlike anything she had ever known rose up within her. It was wild. Wanton. Ravaged her, body and soul.
When he began to withdraw, she groaned but he continued to pull out. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to hold him in, whimpering when she couldn’t.
Just when he was about to slip out, he reversed direction and eased back in, slowly, unerringly finding his way to her core once more.
In the throes of yet another wash of bliss, she clenched at him again. He jerked his cock back out and before she had time to complain thrust it home again. And again. And again.
Aimalee shivered and thrashed beneath him, begging and pleading and nipping at his flesh like a savage.
And then it happened.
Keeshan rose up, went stiff. Deep within her, his cock swelled, filling her, dominating her every thought.
He moved just a tiny bit and her swollen folds contracted.
Aimalee, unable to bear the sensation, fractured. Rapture came and took her and carried her off. But she wasn’t alone.
His body, tight as a bowstring, erupted. Hot and hard, jets of cream flooded her as Keeshan came along with her.
Long after the passion had receded, they lay there on the pillows, wrapped in each other’s arms, breath tangling. Aimalee held him close and laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart, steady and strong. His skin warmed her cheek.
She had never experienced anything quite so wonderful and she didn’t want it to ever, ever end.
If this was a dream, it was the best dream she’d ever had.
Chapter Six
When they recovered from that delightful interlude, Keeshan took Aimalee on the tour of the palace. It was a brief tour. In truth there was not much to show—the mirror room, the sleep chamber and the banquet hall she had already seen—but it always calmed his visitors, knowing the lay of the land.
“This,” he said, opening the fourth door, “is the library.”
She poked her head in and gasped. It was a long room, flanked with row upon row of bookcases, jammed with all manner of reading material. There was a long divan against one wall and a roughhewn table at the center, piled with books.
Her nose twitched and she leaned in farther. “May I come in here and read? When there’s time?”
He nodded. “Certainly.” But there wouldn’t be time. He knew her visit here would be short. Like the blink of an eye. He knew once she left, another century of loneliness gaped before him like an abyss. He planned to keep her occupied, to take full advantage of her while he could.
The thought annoyed him so he quickly guided her out of the room and closed the door, moving on to the next. He opened the door and stepped back. “The playroom.”
She shot him a cynical glance. “The playroom? Really?” And then she peeped inside and chuckled. “It’s a workout room.” It was filled with weights and resistance machines, all fashioned after modern accoutrements he’d seen in the mirror.
“This is where I exercise, yes.”
There was no need for her to study him the way she did. Certainly no call for her to murmur with that hint of hesitation, “Y-you work out?”
He resisted the urge to flex for her. Surely it was obvious. He did, after all, have a lot of time on his hands. “You are welcome to watch, should you so desire.”
He enjoyed the slow creep of red up her cheeks. Enjoyed even more the knowledge that he could make her blush.
She fidgeted for a bit as though tempted to take him up on the offer and then stepped out of the room, back into the sweeping atrium. She scanned the row of doors. “And where do you…” Her flush deepened and she wiggled a little.
He was entranced by the movement but managed to respond. “Where do I what?”
She edged closer and licked her lips several times in succession as though that would help the words slip out. “Where do you…pee?”
He blinked. Not having normal human needs, he’d forgotten. She’d been here for several hours now. Had several glasses of champagne. “Over here.” As he opened the door, a waft of roiling steam rolled out. “This is the bathing room. There is a—I think you call it a toilet—there off the main chamber.” He pointed.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you.�
�� She half ran, half skipped to the recessed alcove at the far end of the pool.
He stood at the door, waiting for her, staring at the alcove in which she’d disappeared and annoyed at himself for that. He was hardly a love-addled pup to moon after a consort.
But Aimalee was so different. He had been stunned by her enthusiasm, the way she had embraced their love, taken charge. He had to admit he’d liked it.
Oh, he always liked sex but this was different. He liked this more.
A lot had happened in the past one hundred years. The mirror had shown him more changes in that short time than all the other centuries combined. And one of the things that had shifted significantly was the role of women in society. With few exceptions, the women who had come to him in the past had been tentative, a little submissive. They had certainly expected him take the lead in bed.
Aimalee brought a whole new flavor to the enterprise. Though shy, she was more adventurous than his past consorts. Not afraid to say what she thought, take what she wanted. Not afraid of him.
He really liked that.
Maybe a little too much.
She emerged from the alcove, wreathed in relief. Her mood was definitely lifted.
His was not.
“Are there any other rooms?” she asked.
He bit his lip. “Just one. But I cannot show you that room yet.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
He took her arm and led her from the humid bathing room. The breezy atrium was cool in comparison. “It is the fantasy room. It remains locked until the lamp decides to open it.”
“That’s odd.”
It was not odd. Not odd at all. The lamp would not open the fantasy room until they were both ready to explore her deepest, darkest sexual desires. Not until there was trust and acceptance…and love. But this was not something he could tell her. He certainly couldn’t tell her that at that point their journey together would be at an end.
“The lamp is ever inscrutable.” He could tell from her expression she was annoyed by his ambiguous response. But really, he didn’t care. Couldn’t care. There were things about the lamp Aimalee did not need to know. And despite her curiosity, things she should not be allowed to discover.
