SEDUCING HIS PRINCESS

by Olivia Gates

  When he felt her stimulation becoming distress, his hands dragged over her soft, satiny flesh to her core. Spreading her, he slid between her feminine lips, growling with the extent of her readiness. He was coming apart needing to be inside her, but he had to prepare her. For he wouldn’t be gentle when he took her. As she’d commanded. Clamping his lips on hers, he probed her, plunged two, then three fingers inside her hot channel.

  Her thighs clamped his hand, her fingers dug into his scalp as her body convulsed, sharp, spasmodic squeals gusting into his lungs. She was climaxing. With but a touch. He’d aroused her that much.

  He allowed himself a moment to watch her in the throes of satisfaction, the sight he’d starved for for six bleak years. Then he took her mouth again, doing to it what his fingers still did to her core, feeding her frenzy, loving every jerk, drinking every last whimper until she slumped in his arms, all precious, satisfied woman.

  Or so he thought. In a minute, her lips found his chest again, her leg rubbing against his hardness. Imprisoning it in both of his, he clamped the hand that greedily caressed his shaft.

  “I want to touch you, Mohab, taste you....”

  The memory alone of her head bowed at his loins, her hair spread on his thighs, the sweep of her back, the flare of her hips as she rubbed herself against his legs like a feline in heat, moaning her pleasure as she worshipped him with trembling hands and swollen lips, almost made him come.

  “Later, Jala. Own me later. Areed aklek, akhullusek—I want to devour you, finish you.”

  “No...just come inside me....” She wrapped her legs around his hips, ground her moist heat over his erection.

  He savored the torture for a moment, absorbing her need, then opened her folds with the head of his erection, and she mewled and spread herself wider for him, the sound and sight almost making his skull burst. He circled the engorged bud of her arousal, drawing more keens, more prodding twists in his hair. Then he slid from her grasp and moved between her thighs.

  Before she could protest again, he took her feminine lips in a voracious kiss, his tongue lapping her in long sweeps. Her protests fractured only when he suckled her bud until he had her thrashing, begging. When he knew she couldn’t stand anymore, he bit down on her.

  The force of her release razed through his body, almost triggering his. He again pushed three fingers inside her, sharpening her pleasure, lapping up its flood until her voice broke and her body slumped.

  Still lapping at her, soothing now, he rested his head over her trembling thigh, tenderness a rising tide through the sustained agony. How he’d missed pleasuring her.

  Her shaking hands wound in his hair again, dragging him up by it as he’d dreamed she’d do for so long. He obeyed her, swept up over her, sank languorously into her kiss. Reveling in her hands roaming his body, he could feel her extracting his soul, reclaiming him with her raging need.

  She suckled his earlobe, bit it, sending a million arrows lodging into his erection, whispered in a voice roughened by abandon and satisfaction, “Now will you come inside me?”

  “Enti to’morini...you only have to command me.”

  “I did nothing but command you...to no avail.”

  A guffaw ripped out of him. The fact that she was teasing him now was so unexpected, so delightful.

  His hands dug into the buttocks undulating against him. “You call this ‘no avail’?”

  In answer, she pressed her body and lips to his. “I call anything that doesn’t end with you inside me that.”

  “I spent six years planning all the ways I’d pleasure you when I finally got my hands and lips on you again, ya rohi.”

  She pulled him back over her, eyes feverish. “I only want one way. You. Inside me. Now, Mohab.”

  His heart boomed with gratitude and pride. She didn’t want just any pleasure, no matter how fierce. She wanted the pleasure of union, with him.

  It was humbling that she desired him as much as before and more. But his passion had intensified through the forging of denial and disappointment, frustration and separation, though mostly by total, unconditional love. Why had hers strengthened? He couldn’t tell, could only give thanks.

  For one last moment before he joined them, he held her eyes as he loomed over her, and they swallowed him whole.

  “Take me.”

  Obeying her desperate demand, he thrust into her in one savage plunge, sheathing himself inside her tight heat to the hilt, hurtling home, his only home. Her scream felt as if it tore from her lungs, pure, excruciating pleasure, as his bellow had been. She arched up in a steep bow, seeking his possession, needing his urgency and ferocity, and he gave it to her. He withdrew all the way, then forged back even deeper, harder, the near impossible fit driving him out of his mind, until he’d built to a jackhammering rhythm with his full force behind it.

  Too soon, her screams merged as she bucked beneath him...then shattered in convulsions that clamped her around him, wrenching at his length in a fit of release. He rode the breakers of her orgasm, withdrawing and plunging in a fury, feeding her frenzy until her screeches stifled and her heart accelerated beyond the danger zone, her tears pouring thickly.

  “Come with me....”

  Her sob broke him. He let go, buried himself to her womb, wished he could bury all of himself inside her, and surrendered to the most ferocious orgasm he’d ever known, jetting his essence into her depths in gush after agonizing gush, roaring his love, his worship.

  “Ahebbek ya hayati, ya rohi...Jala, aabodek...”

  Pleasure stormed through him, held him in a merciless vice for long minutes, then it suddenly unleashed its grip, let him breathe, unlocked his muscles. He collapsed over her, driving deeper into their merging.

  When he had control over his body again, he withdrew to look down at her, and his heart swelled at the sight of the goddess she’d become. A soundly slumbering one right now. His lips shook on a smile of satisfaction. So he could still pleasure her into oblivion.

  Gratitude swamped him again as he made his pledge to the fates. If he couldn’t have her love, he’d wallow in her desire, fulfill her every need, lavish all his love and trust and honor on her. He’d keep her hungrier for more still, do anything to keep her beside him.

  Until he made her love him. For real. And forever.

  * * *

  Jala jerked out of a place of total darkness and bliss to the sight of Mohab over her, the feel of him inside her.

  His weight felt like the gravity holding her universe together. The universe that had spun out of control when he’d told her he’d leave and she wouldn’t be seeing him again.

  The eruption of despair had overwhelmed her. She’d pushed him away, thinking she’d been defending herself, saving her sanity. But the idea of losing him again and forever had torn aside inhibitions, rationality, even survival. She’d had to have him again, even if the cost was eternal misery. Nothing had changed, or would ever change. She would always need him beyond self-preservation. And she’d thrown herself into the heaven and hell of his arms again.

  The conflagration that had followed, what he’d done to her, proved she’d only forgotten how it had felt to be with him. Or that this ecstasy was new.

  It was new. And far more potentially destructive for it.

  “Jala, habibati...” Mohab’s voice cascaded like warm midnight waters over her as he turned them around, draping her over him, maintaining their union. “Are you all right?”

  No. You exist and I’ll never be all right.

  Forcing herself to keep it light, she rubbed her face into his pectorals, response gushing again in the core he occupied as the glistening sprinkle of his chest hair tickled her lips. “You really need to ask?”

  He smoothed large, calloused hands over her back. “You were moaning. I thought I was too heavy so I took most of my weight off y
ou, changed positions, but you’re still tense. You’re uncomfortable with me inside you?”

  He was too big, too thick, and it seemed as if he hadn’t subsided at all. He did stretch her into an edge of pain that was addictive, overwhelming, and as he’d driven all that power inside her, it had been beyond exhilarating. The idea of all that he was, focused in one act of sheer desperation, as much at her mercy as she was at his, filled her, body and soul. She’d thought her younger self had experienced the height of shattering emotions, and that was why she’d felt so empty and bereft when she’d lost him. Turned out, she’d known nothing.

  When her answer was delayed, he started raising her off him. She panicked, squeezed him with all her strength, kept him inside her.

  He threw his head back on a bass groan, his mane fanning on the rumpled sheets, his hands digging into her buttocks, thrusting his own buttocks up to grind himself farther inside her.

  She collapsed on him, a cry of shocked pleasure opening her lips on his corded neck as he nudged her womb. “Mohab...”

  Rising to a sitting position with her straddling his hips, he leaned against the headboard, held her hips in his palms and raised her until the head of his erection emerged from her entrance, then he let her sink over the girth slicked in their pleasure.

  “Ride me, ya rohi. Take me and take your pleasure of me.”

  Feeling faint with sensation, she braced herself against the worked wood, thighs trembling as she tried to scale his length. She’d managed only half when his mouth engulfed one nipple, his fingers twisting the other.

  She crashed down on him, felt him push into her cervix.

  “Mohab...please...”

  He took her arms from their slump, placed them on his shoulders, then held her hips and moved her up and down, traveling the length of his erection in leisurely journeys to the rhythm of his long, deep suckles of her nipples until the pressure in her core threatened to implode. “Before you, I never dreamed pleasure like that existed. I never want to stop pleasuring you, ya hayat galbi.”

  Life of my heart. One of the extravagant endearments that he’d lavished on her in the past.

  Hearing it now nearly tipped her over into the abyss, made her wail, “Mohab...I can’t... Too much...”

  Again he understood. Easing her onto her back, he rose above her, spreading her wider around his bulk as he lunged forward, letting her feel the rawness of the strength that could and had pulverized men twice her size, now leashed to become carnality and cherishing instead. He stretched her around his invasion and stilled, throbbing in her depths, his fiery eyes holding her streaming ones, until she was one exposed nerve ending.

  “You are too much. Everything you are. Take me, Jala, all of me.” He withdrew as he talked, then rammed back into her.

  As if this was his first thrust all over again, she shredded her larynx on a shriek. She dug her fingernails into his buttocks, wanting him to stab her to the heart, destroy her once and for all.

  And he did.

  She convulsed, stilled into a whiteout before everything detonated, wave after wave radiating from his driving manhood to raze her, reform her for the next sweep.

  Then it shot beyond her ability to withstand. He’d joined her in this darkest ecstasy, roaring his completion, his orgasm boosting hers as surge after surge of his seed splashed into her womb, finishing her with delight...and desolation.

  * * *

  From the depths of satiation, Jala opened eyes that felt glued shut. Her breath hitched, and her body heated instantaneously as she found herself enveloped in him.

  Mohab. As in all her dreams, as in those five months they’d been lovers. Curved around her, his legs encompassing her, his head propped on one hand, the other sweeping her in caresses, his eyes and lips radiating pure male satisfaction.

  She reached out, ran numb fingertips down his beard. It was amazingly soft, just the right length to lose any stubbly feel. Just remembering how it had felt against her lips, against every inch of her, was enough to have her squirming with arousal again. Not to mention the feel of his hair as she’d binged on the freedom of twisting her hands in it and pulling on it.

  “How long have I been out?” Her voice was thick and raspy. The voice of a woman who’d been savagely pleasured. She did feel gloriously sore, every cell shrieking with life.

  “An hour or so,” he teased. “Watching you tumble into unconsciousness in the aftermath of my possession, then documenting your abandon to slumber, every inch flushed and drained with satiation...” He sighed deeply, rubbed his beard against her shoulder as he plastered her more securely to his length. “It remains the most fantastic sight I’ve ever seen. It is the most gratifying thing in the world, knowing that I can still knock you out with pleasure.”

  “Anything I can do for your male ego,” she croaked.

  He hugged her exuberantly before pulling back, his eyes turning serious. “Mine is all tied up in my ability to satisfy you, Jala. And now that I know for certain that this is something only I can do, I won’t let you fight our need anymore. We must and will be together.”

  She closed her eyes, warding off the intensity in his.

  It did nothing to reduce the brutality of temptation. She couldn’t resist him or her need for him. But she had to lay down limits before he swallowed her whole.

  She opened her eyes. “As I just proved, I want you beyond my ability to resist. So I will be with you.”

  He sat up, his eyes intent. “What do you mean...with me?”

  “I’ll marry you. For those six months you proposed.”

  Ten

  It had been a torturous whirlwind since that night she’d surrendered to her need for Mohab and told him she’d take his original offer of a six-month marriage.

  When she had, he’d brooded down at her for a long moment...then he’d proceeded to plunder her throughout the rest of the night...and morning.

  That had been three weeks ago. Time had never passed so slowly. Or so fast.

  And tonight was their wedding night.

  Once Mohab had secured her agreement, he’d pushed for cutting short the intended three-month engagement. Now he knew he’d have a sure response from his uncle after their wedding, he wanted it as soon as possible. Especially since it was clear, after their one night together, that they’d have no more until they were officially married.

  After their explosive reunion, they’d suddenly found themselves surrounded at all times. She suspected Kamal’s eyes in the palace had reported her nocturnal visit to Mohab, and to curtail the scandal that would surely ensue if it became known the princess of Judar was entering her intended’s bed prematurely, he’d conspired to keep them apart. Since Kamal had alluded to the fact that the anticipation before the ceremony invariably made the wedding night all the more...special, she was positive that her constant state of deprivation was her dastardly brother’s doing.

  But maybe she shouldn’t be so impatient to start the marriage that would have her in Mohab’s bed again. Because once it did start, she’d start counting down the minutes to its end.

  But knowing there would be nothing permanent between them, she’d already decided to take what she could of him, with him, hoard memories for the future. A future she’d always known would be empty, but would now be bleak.

  Emptying a chest tight with futility, she forced burning eyes to take in the vista from her window. She wouldn’t let heartache dissolve into tears and face tonight with eyes that told its story. She had to play her part tonight, had to honor Mohab in front of his people, fill her temporary position as his bride and queen as best she could.

  But even the land that felt untouched by time, being exposed to its ambiance of purity and the serenity that permeated it, failed to imbue her with any measure of calm.

  Though this land had touched her on her most fu
ndamental level from the moment she’d laid eyes on it, just like its most influential son had, she still regretted that she’d agreed when Mohab had insisted their wedding take place here.

  Jareer. His ancestral land. Where he would become king tonight. And she’d become his queen. Temporarily.

  Once she’d lost the right to be here, the memory of experiencing this place with him would be one more injury and loss to live with.

  At Mohab’s insistence, Kamal had relinquished the right to have his sister’s wedding in Judar. He’d thoroughly approved of Mohab wanting to make her his—and Jareer’s—queen on the same night of his joloos, when he claimed the newly forged throne.

  Since being this accommodating was so unlike Kamal, she’d teasingly accused him of letting Mohab walk all over him just so he’d end her long-lamented spinsterhood. Kamal had only teased back, “Of course, why else?”

  And here she was, in Zahara, what passed for Jareer’s capital.

  They’d come two weeks ago to prepare for the dual celebration. By they, she meant everyone. Her getting hitched was such a big deal that her family had left Judar unattended to make sure her wedding went, well, without a hitch.

  Not that Mohab was letting anyone do anything. Apart from Carmen, who was a master event planner, and Aliyah, a world-renowned artist who had eagerly taken charge of dressing everyone, he had adamantly refused to let anyone lift a finger in anything but recreation. As such, he spent his every waking hour being the perfect host to everyone.

  While acting as their tour guide, he’d been a mine of information. According to him, this area had been settled since prehistoric times, and to prove it he’d taken them to see the local caves with their ancient rock paintings. He’d showed them the monuments of every culture that had left their mark on the region, with the most influential being Ottoman, Persian and Indian, but all wrapped up in an Arabian feel.

  Apart from the many tourist spots the region boasted, it had surprised her how much there was to do around here. There was a vast array of outdoor activities—from hiking to dune skating to horseback riding, to swimming in and lazing around sparkling springs, to bonfire banquets at night.