by S. Nahar
I trailed my kisses down to her neck, hearing her gasps of surprise. I spent some time in one particular spot on her neck gently nibbling and biting down on the tender skin. I skimmed the shirt that covered her alluring body from me, losing my control by the second.
“You’re so gorgeous,” I whispered into her ear. “So beautiful.”
She gripped my arm tighter. “I know,” she smiled.
Nuzzling my face into her neck, my hands trailed down her slim body. Memories of our tangled limbs and breathless words played in my mind, toying with me and tempting me to continue, to make her mine again.
“Damon,” she said breathlessly. “We can’t.”
“I want you now.”
She shook her head, “We have people coming over soon.”
I grunted in annoyance as I got off her. “They’re cockblockers,” I muttered.
“Damon!” she exclaimed with her jaw dropped.
I chuckled. “What?”
“You’re so insufferable,” she huffed.
“And you are extremely sexy,” I huskily said.
I saw the small tint of pink on her cheeks and I leaned over to kiss her cheek, unable to control myself. I kissed her forehead and her other cheek. When I pulled away, she tilted her head to the side, visibly confused.
“What was that for?”
“Well, since I can’t do what I want to do to you, that’s going to have to suffice for now,” I said. I didn’t add the part that I left a hickey on her neck. “I’m going to call my dad.”
As I walked away, Amira got up and looked at herself in the mirror. “Damon Winters!” she yelled when she saw what I had done.
I was already inside the bathroom by the time she figured it out.
***
Amira’s friends kicked me out of the hotel with all our stuff packed in my car. I had my close friends driving me as I tried to fix my tie in the car. Zakir was driving. Thomas, Tye, and Jacob were in the back with me. Ibrahim, my friend from college, sat in the seat adjacent to Zakir.
During college, I had made new friends, Ibrahim becoming my closest one. There weren’t many Muslims at my university, but I had seen the mysterious pale guy in the back of an economics class, dark eyes as powerful as his intimidating stare.
I remembered how girls admired Ibrahim from afar, loving his classy attire and cool personality. He barely talked unless it was required, but the calculative nature of his potential business affair sparked a curiosity in me. I always saw him at Jummah (Friday prayer), and he would always be the last to leave, standing in worship until his feet swelled.
I admired him, so I took the initiative to start a friendship even when he pushed me away. He was a lonely soul, who experienced true horrors in Turkey, his home country. It left him with the inability to trust anyone. That was until I brought my friends to him, showing Ibrahim the wonders of a true brotherhood.
“What’s the point in marriage anyway?” Ibrahim asked in his casual pessimistic tone.
“It completes half our deen,” said Zakir, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Your point?”
I shook my head. “Trust me, man. I thought marriage was stupid for a long time.”
Ibrahim looked through his window with longing in his eyes. My worry was dragged away when Tye punched my shoulder.
“Yeah, that was until he met Amira,” Tye winked.
“Damon got whipped after that,” Jacob called out.
“Our little Damon is so grown up,” Thomas cooed, pinching my cheek.
I slapped his hand away. “I’ll bite you.”
“Kinky,” he winked.
The guys all laughed as I face palmed. Dear Lord, help me.
***
Amira and I, were told to walk in together, so I waited by the door for her. What was taking her so long?
Ibrahim leaned against the door frame. “Girls take too long,” he grumbled.
Just as he said that, Amira and Tasneem walked in. I was completely shocked by what I saw. Amira stood in a baby blue lehenga that emulated the clear skies above.
Her hijab was wrapped delicately around her head in the same shade, rhinestones and glitter decorating the ends. The lehenga fit around her like a glove. Her eyeliner gave her dark brown eyes this seductive look like a temptress from another world, sent to steal my heart at any means. Her lips were a perfect shade of classic red just like the wedding.
“Surprised?” Tasneem smirked.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Amira. “Wow,” I breathed.
Amira blushed. “Our audience awaits us,” she smiled.
I grabbed her hips, pulling her close to me. “I can’t wait to strip you tonight,” I murmured so only her ears could hear.
She lightly slapped my chest, hiding her grin. “Pervert.”
I noticed that Ibrahim and Tasneem looked at each other, confused as hell and slightly angry from Tasneem’s side. “You’re the girl from that café,” he stated, shocked.
“You two know each other?” asked Amira.
“No,” Tasneem said with an icy glare.
Ibrahim narrowed his eyes at her. “I got some business to attend to Damon. I’ll see you inside,” he said with one last lingering look in Tasneem’s direction.
He left soon after, pulling his phone out. A flash of hurt spelled in Tasneem’s eyes as if the two had a history that the rest of us were blind to. Amira mirrored my worry for both of them.
“You guys go in. The guests are getting impatient,” Tasneem smiled tightly.
We could find out what happened later. Tonight was about us.
I took Amira’s hand in mine. “To the rest of our lives?” I asked.
She grinned. “To the rest of our lives.”
Then, we walked hand in hand into the ballroom. She was finally mine.
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Here is a sample from another story you may enjoy:
CHAPTER ONE
SAN FRANCISCO, 1888
Animal
The snores emanating from the lips of the man beside her could very well have been coming from a pig.
Her eyes ran over him in disgust, the frown on her face deepening, leaving her with a dull headache. Her skin still crawled from having his hands trail the length of her body in the most demeaning manner, his saliva, and cologne clinging to her skin as she dismissed the overwhelming desire to suffocate him with a pillow.
Sighing softly, Gloria slipped out of bed and settled on bare feet on the carpet. Flexing her toes, she stretched both her hands above her head and let out a soft yawn before rising to her feet, exhausted. Taking cautious steps towards her clothes that sat on the chair across the room, she stood in the darkness and pulled the soft fabric over her skin. She loved this part of her job―getting dressed. While it did nothing to wipe her stained reputation, it did end her torture. She could get dressed; get rid of whichever pig it was that chose to grace her bed in that particular moment; and forget for a few seconds who she was and what she did.
Straightening, she turned her attention back to the redhead who was now turned fully on his back, the sight of his unclad body forcing a frown to return to her face. It was hard to imagine the redhead mayor who lay unashamedly bare before her, was the same man who joined the entire town to condemn and shun her.
And his wife…
Ah, the look on Mrs. Bradley’s face would be priceless if she was privileged to see her husband comfortable in the bed of sin. Gloria wondered where the nosy gossip believed her husband to be. A business meeting? A trip? A fundraiser for the church? No doubt the lying bastard would come up with something, and it was certainly no doubt his gullible wife would believe him.
Mrs. Bradley would believe her husband as would every woman whose husband Gloria had given a taste of sin. And for th
is singular reason—she thought, as she made her way to Mayor Bradley’s discarded coat on the floor—she always took a souvenir.
With a smile now creasing her face, she pulled out a customized button from his coat before making her way into the dark of the night.
***
EUREKA SPRINGS, ARKANSAS
“Perhaps we do not have to go in person. Perhaps it is possible to have a servant go on your behalf.”
Stuart Sullivan paid no mind to his son, his eyes fixed on the pile of paper before him as he struggled to calculate the cost of his journey.
The sound of wood scraping against cement pulled Stuart’s attention to his restless son who was now on his feet.
“Do you intend to ignore me this entire time, Father?” Howard ran a weary hand through his hair.
“Do we have to go over this again, Howard?” Stuart frowned, his attention returning to the task before him. He was trying his best to work out the cost of his journey, but it didn’t help that his eyes were failing. Frustrated, he pushed the document aside.
“Will you have me repeat how important this is to your mother?”
“Mother?!” he spat. “The last time I checked, I have no mother, and you certainly have no wife.” His words were nothing new; it was the same response he gave to conversations involving his mother. Yet, they had a different effect on Stuart every time they were spoken. This time, the effect was pain. It was like a stab to his chest, draining him of whatever energy he thought he had left.
Stuart leaned forward and placed his tired hands on the wooden desk before him. “Would it make you happy if I didn’t go, if I didn’t give your mother this one last wish she had?” He rubbed his aching eyes.
“It would help if you wouldn’t bother spending so much on an ungrateful, undeserving woman who only returned to you when she needed you. When she knew she was dying…”
“Howard!” he warned, anger rising to his chest. His limbs trembled, and he was thankful for the fact that he was seated.
Howard stood before him, lips pursed. He ran his gaze down the length of his son and shook his head, saddened. He could hardly recognize the man who stood before him: the man who had become embittered and burdened by grief. For it was grief that led to Howard’s unbecoming attitude, grief rather than anger. Grief for a mother he never had, a mother whose absence in life left a void widened by death. It was the consequences of his mother’s absence that was slowly but surely turning him into a drunk—a sad, bitter alcoholic who spent most of his time in the brothels.
“You will respect your mother’s memories.” Stuart knew his admonition would mean nothing to his son.
“If you insist on this journey of yours, Father, then I’m coming with you to San Francisco. Not for her,” he spat, “but for you. I’m coming along to make sure nothing terrible happens to you on the way.”
Stuart offered a tired smile. “Alright son, we’ll go to San Francisco together to sprinkle your mother’s ashes.”
“I have no mother” ―Stuart heard Howard’s low growl― “and you had no wife.”
The words made their way into his heart, filling him with great sadness for his son who was spiraling quickly down the path of destruction.
If you enjoyed this sample, look for
Faces of Love
on Amazon.
BOOK YOU MIGHT ENJOY
AMOR ETERNO
Mara Lynne
“I can’t wait to sell this property, then I could go back to Japan to do my own thing!”
Xander Montejo, a young, successful professional photographer and painter, finds himself in his grandfather’s hometown all because of an inheritance that he needs to claim.
He is prepared for a boring stay in the mansion, but what he didn’t expect is that his grandfather’s home isn’t ordinary at all and boring is not a word to describe it.
When he uncovers the first mystery, he is hindered speechless. He is looking at the empty diary that he threw out the other day only to find it in his table the next day. No longer empty.
Clarissa, a young woman from the eighteenth century, is too excited to write again in her diary; a gift from her late grandmother. But, when she opens it, another entry, one that is surely not hers, is written on it.
How is it possible for two people from different times to communicate with each other through a diary?
What other mysteries are hidden in the Montejo Mansion?
And is love possible when both are centuries apart?With mysteries, gods and goddess, curses, and unconditional love, you will surely get hooked with this one of a kind story.
Grab a copy and uncover the mysteries that surround Xander and Clarissa as they battle their way to happiness and as they try their best to defy their fate.
BOOK YOU MIGHT ENJOY
A HUNDRED WEDDINGS
Jessica Schreave
“And Miss Roberts?”
“What?”
“I’m very much single.”
Kimberly Roberts knows she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed and her goals are pretty simple: finish senior year, marry someone whom she genuinely loves, and live happily ever after.
Not so complicated, right?
But, as ill luck would have it, nothing is going precisely as planned. Her math teacher, who looks too attractive for Kim’s own good, refuses to give her at least a passing grade without her actually passing her exams; her family’s business is failing, and her longtime crush is in love with someone else.
And when one tiny, harmless wish snowballs into a tapestry of events, her life suddenly hits a major plot twist. One minute she’s living the perfectly worry-free life, and the next she’s surprisingly caught in the midst of family dramas and life’s little complexities.
Quite complicated now, right?
As they say, be careful what you wish for because you might just get it. Like become a bride of a hundred weddings, perhaps?
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I will always be grateful to Allah that I was given the opportunity to write a book that would help others increase their faith in whatever way I could. This book was written for the sake of breaking stereotypes, but many people helped make this dream a reality.
First, to my amazing publishers and editors, who worked day and night to edit and market my book. Even when their own lives offered stresses and grievances, they managed to pull through as a team and treat my work to the best of their ability. Thank you for believing in this small story from Wattpad and bringing it into a paperback book.
Along with my publishers, I owe a lot to my parents and brother. I kept my writings a secret for a very long time because I was afraid of rejection and ridicule, yet when my family heard about my books for the first time, they cheered me on through every step and were more excited than I was. Without my parents or my seemingly annoying but great brother, many of these characters wouldn’t exist either nor would my understanding and love for my religion. They taught me day after day about how incredible Islam is, and I wanted to share that to the world.
Let’s not forget about those who helped me write in the male perspective. Stone, if you hadn’t edited some of my chapters and told me how ridiculous they sounded, the male characters in this book would have been very bland and two-dimensional. He followed my book from the beginning and became the reason why Damon’s character was so unique.
Another person who impacted my writing style is a favorite teacher of mine, Mr. Zemel. Thank you for being a harsh grader with essays because I pushed myself even harder to apply everything you taught me to all my writings, especially in the descriptions.
I saved the best for last. A huge JazakAllah to my readers from Wattpad who have followed this book from the first day I published it on Wattpad. You guys are the absolute best, and deserve all the best in life. Without your continuous support or encouraging words, none of this would be possible and I can’t say it enough. Thank you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you so much for reading A Diamond I
n Islam! I can’t express how grateful I am for reading something that was once just a thought inside my head.
Please feel free to send me an email. Just know that my publisher filters these emails. Good news is always welcome.
[email protected]
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Can’t wait to hear from you!
S. Nahar
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Shadia Nahar is a full-time student that finds time to write whenever she’s free. Shadia writes for her school’s newspaper and has written several books on Wattpad. She was born in Maryland to Muslim Bangladeshi parents. Her works mainly focus on the stigma surrounding Muslims in America, where she tries to break stereotypes and change the status quo. When she's not writing or studying like a maniac, she can be found playing League of Legends, reading her favorite books, or debating politics among her peers.