by C. L. Donley
Kim stood for a second in the silent tent, the vague, intermittent sounds of soldiers toying with massive guns could be heard in the background. She eyed her new husband with a furrowed brow.
“Um, are we… supposed to be… doing it in here??”
Slowly, Bel nodded his head in confirmation.
Forty Nine
Chapter 49
“Your entire family is fifty feet away.”
Bel scrunched his face and tilted his head this way and that.
“More like a hundred, but okay.”
“Bel… no!”
“You know, I had no clue you were this modest. It’s pretty hot,” he smirked, thinking back to that bold, young vixen that gave him a lap dance the night before Amara’s wedding.
“Bel, there’s not a single woman that I know? That would be down with this.”
“You never fooled around while your parents were downstairs?”
Kim bristled, but she understood what he meant. She never even kept the door closed with her parents by themselves downstairs. Unless of course, they’d brought a John there.
“No,” she simply said.
“Well, it’s Ghassani tradition.”
“Bel, you could tell me shit-eating is a Ghassani tradition at this phase, couldn’t you?”
“It isn’t.”
“Look, I’m sure you’re telling me the truth, and that every single person out there knew what the hell was supposed to go down tonight, but that shit is where I draw the line.”
“If my brothers don’t hear your screams of passion, I’ll be a laughing stock.”
“Is that a fact.”
“A lot of orgasms get faked in the name of tradition here.”
“Well… I don’t fake orgasms, and I don’t have sex in public, so. Run tell dat.”
“It’s completely private in here. Shall I prove it to you?”
Bel began disrobing. Kim bit her lip as she watched, her body trembling. The noise of the ongoing party underneath the stars was frankly not faint enough to relax. Yet she could feel her body betraying her fiercely. Wave after wave of…betrayal. Soon the king was completely naked. She’d just seen him naked that morning, which seemed like a million years ago, but that was in the privacy of the palace. Her heart was in her throat. He sauntered over to her slowly, removing her sheer gold-embroidered shawl from her shoulders and running his hands up and down her bare skin.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, but I’ve been waiting to see you all day.”
Kim tried to slow her breathing, tried not to do anything to encourage him.
“Don’t you rip my dress,” she warned him.
“I won’t, I promise,” he softly vowed.
One by one the tiny buttons on the intricate back of her gold brocade dress came loose. She shook her head looking up at the vault of the tent’s ceiling.
“I can’t believe you’re asking me to fuckin’ do this.”
“Kim relax, everyone knows what sex is here, alright? It’s not a pastime here or a hobby, it’s serious business. It’s for producing heirs, for continuing the Malwali dynasty.”
“I just don’t want your… brothers and your nephews and your… freakin’ shoe shiner knowing what the fuck we do in here.”
“No one’s going to disrespect you here. Not if they value their lives.”
Bel slipped her dress down over her shoulders, revealing her underclothes. They were made of light sheer linen, and he could see where her nipples were taut and the growing imprint of wetness between her legs where arousal had gathered, somewhere sometime, he hadn’t known when. He said nothing about it, simply began on those buttons as well until she could easily slip the gold undergarment down around her ankles.
Now they were both naked. Bel gave his queen a once-over, taking her hand and putting it against his face, as was his habit. He kissed her palm, took her hand and led her to the big bed where they both laid down facing each other. Bel brushed the stray hairs from Kim’s cheek as he lay beside her and looked into her eyes. She looked down at his body, beautifully lit by all the ample candlelight, the stirring of arousal pleasantly apparent where she stared.
“See something you like?” he said. She sent him a flirty glare that only further enflamed him. She moved to lay on her stomach as she kept her eyes on him. His eyes moved to the contours of her bare body, the sharp shadows created by candlelight playing across her mannequin-like features. He reached out to touch her and his knuckles skimmed across her back.
“Your country is beautiful,” she remarked.
“It’s your country now,” he answered her.
She sighed a heavy sigh that unsettled him.
“Homesick?” he asked.
“No. Not yet, at least,” she said.
“Do you love me?”
She sat up on her elbows, one of her arms bent and the hand that was once broken now in her disheveled hair. She looked like an old-timey pin-up girl.
“You ask that a lot.”
“You’re answer is always evasive.”
“Is it not obvious?”
“You had no trouble telling me over and over that you hated me.”
“I had no idea you were taking that to heart,” she answered softly, sincerely.
He gazed at her, completely mesmerized and barely able to breathe. It’d been scarcely a month since his life changed in an instant and it felt like he’d awakened from a 12 years long dream. He etched her face in his mind, a habit he was grateful to have when he’d lost Leilani, not realizing how long it would serve him. He did the same with Kim, memorizing the smells and sounds along with the sights. He wanted it to be the last thing he remembered before he took his last breath.
Suddenly she left her spot beside him to climb on top of him. Like she had done during their reunion at her apartment, she’d taken hold of his manhood and lowered herself on, slowly and concentrated on the task, her head down. An involuntary sharp breath escaped him once he was all the way in. She flipped the hair away from her face with the back of her hand and draped herself on top of him, her arms tucked under her bosom and resting on his broad chest, her head finding the swift beating of his heart. She didn’t move; she simply lay there. Bel rested a forearm underneath his head and closed his eyes, the other hand lazily stroked Kim’s hair. They lay like that for a long moment. He was too aroused to be relaxed, but he felt good, like a long steady high. He could feel the contractions of Kim’s sex on his cock, and it gave him a jolt every time. He smirked. What was she thinking about? He decided to ask.
“What are you thinking about?” he posited sleepily.
“Nothing.”
“I can feel you squeezing me.”
Another jolt went through her. More involuntary spasms.
This time Bel laughed.
“I can’t control that shit,” she giggled.
“Well, you have to stop if you don’t want this to go any further.” His words brought on a flurry of spasms, and he arched his back in response.
“I just told you, I can’t control it,” she said, raising up on her elbows, trying not to hump him.
“Do you remember what you said to me on the jet? At the wedding?” he asked.
“I said a lot of shit to you on the jet.”
“You said, ‘you better know what you’re doing.’”
“You had no fuckin’ idea.”
He shook his head.
“Kiss me,” he said. He felt her reaction to him again, and he let out a soft moan, which set of a chain of them. Without thinking, he grabbed the sides of her face with both his hands and began to softly kiss her, her contractions becoming more frequent, more powerful. He gave her a little thrust, and a moan eked out of their meeting lips. Kim came up for air.
“Bel, we can’t!”
“We already are!”
“Your security detail is right outside the tent!”
“Our detail. Do you want me to send them away? Because I will risk getting hit with snip
er fire if it means you’ll let me fuck you right now.”
“Don’t…say another word,” Kim said, more hot than bothered.
“You don’t want me to talk about fucking you?”
She humped him. He groaned.
“And don’t joke about being killed.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
“I should’ve laid on the couch,” Kim sighed.
“Girl, that couch ain’t safe either,” he teased.
He grabbed her and flipped her on her back. He re-entered her gently and took one of her carmel colored nipples into his mouth.
“This is crazy,” she continued to protest, her hands in his hair.
“It’s fucking hot,” Bel argued.
“No way a woman came up with a tradition like this.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her how it originated. He’d never get any.
“Let me fuck you, baby,” he pleaded.
“Bel don’t!” Kim pleaded back.
“Holy shit, you drive me crazy,” Bel gritted his teeth. All this restraint was making it far harder for him to remain dignified.
Kim’s heart felt like it was going to burst. She couldn’t shake feeling so oddly exposed. But she also couldn’t stop the mountain of arousal folding in on itself each time she thought about the king out of his mind with desire for her, fucking her in the middle of a field with nothing but a big ass tarp to separate them from the party, a mere hundred feet away and showing no signs of stopping. At least the music was loud enough to take her mind off the desperate, intermittent gasps that were escaping her as Bel’s thrusts became more frantic, more primal. He was using his knees, propping himself up trying to get more of his length inside her. She put her hands on his buttocks, feeling the power behind his forceful, zinging thrusts.
That did not help his fraying control.
His thrusts became more erratic and forceful. She didn’t want to cry out for obvious reasons, but she was also enthralled with the sound of Bel trying to hold back, trying to shrink himself for the sake of his shy bride. The fact was, Bel was a king, and if he wanted to he could make love to his queen with everyone watching and anyone who so much as cleared their throat in objection he could have executed. The thought didn’t help her fraying control either.
“My king,” she faintly moaned.
He raised up and looked at her as if she’d activated some sex code in him with her words. Maybe she had.
“Turn around,” he panted.
She had the feeling she could object, but she was far too curious of the ecstasy that was in store for her.
The first time they’d had sex, the first time the miracle happened, he’d done the same thing. Soon her face was in the pillow, wet with tears, this time from joy at the amount of pleasure he was giving her despite her chronic condition. He’d just been face deep in the folds of her sex, using his tongue and fingers to explore all the many ways she could explode. She hadn’t even noticed that the pressure she was feeling at her entrance was his cock.
“You okay?” he panted.
“Yeah,” she moaned.
“Are you sure,” he kept saying.
“Yes,” she mindlessly kept answering.
“Kim.”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t look now, but you’re fucking.”
“What??” she’d said in astonishment.
She still didn’t believe it until she felt the unmistakable length go further than she ever thought it had available space. Her legs wobbled and shook. He kept asking if she was okay, but he was utterly undone anyway. He couldn’t have stopped if there was a gun to his head.
She suspected it was the same way now. As she got up on all fours, she looked around the dimly lit spacious tent, the gorgeous gold embellishments of the pillows and rugs making starlight across the walls and ceiling above. The party continued closeby, the energy totally focused elsewhere, as if she and Bel were invisible, or between dimensions. Even the guards seemed rather oblivious, wherever they were, though it was their job to consider what they were up to. And Bel, a gorgeous naked specimen of maleness, now had laser focus on his bride.
She looked at the gorgeous canopy that draped over the headboard, the detail on the mound of colorful pillows. So beautiful. How had they done so much in a few short days of preparation? Kim felt Bel’s large hand’s caressing her back, heard him whispering poetry about her beautiful body, some in English, some not. She lowered herself at the elbows and let her ass stay in the air. When he finally entered her again, he wasn’t gentle about it. Every hard inch of him sent a ripple of fluttery sensual paradise up her spine that exploded like a bomb everytime their hips met. Before she could recover he was sending her another. She could feel her control starting to dissipate. His hands on her hips, his breath in her ears was exposing her true desires, her true self.
This was the first truly reckless, irresponsible thing she’d ever done. It wasn’t her style. But for once she understood the appeal. The bizarre mix of so wild a first deviant experiment with armed guards around the perimeter— probably the most secure tent in the world— was a bit of a turn on, but it triggered all kinds of emotions in her. It was kind of funny to her, actually. In fact, she was suddenly desperate to laugh, desperate not to take herself so seriously.
“Is the king enjoying his pussy?” she purred.
“Fuck! I can’t even look at you right now,” he frantically replied. She sucked in a long breath in response, feeling like a goddess let loose.
Suddenly she understood the tradition. And she understood why she was going to scream like a banshee in a few seconds. She was about to lose all control for the first time in her life. She wanted to. And that’s what everyone was trying to tell her: it’s okay. No one was going to make fun of her, she wasn’t going to lose her job, the house, her life savings. Her siblings weren’t going to get separated if she just let her husband fucking bring her to orgasm in a tent in the desert. Her king was daring her to, daring anyone to take issue. He had her, and he was begging her to trust him. Because he was the most powerful man in the country, and he needed to believe that as much as she did, if not more. If his queen didn’t trust him, why then should the country? One thing she definitely knew was that as long as this king was her man, there was nothing that could touch her. Yeah. None of those orgasms were faked.
“Oh my God, I’m gonna come so hard,” Kim stately calmly, as if a sudden realization.
“You gonna let me hear it?”
“I’ma let you all fuckin’ hear it.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Don’t stop yet, baby, keep going.”
“I won’t, baby, just go.”
Kim went. She came hard and loud in a single long moan that enveloped the entire tent. It sounded a bit like a foghorn, but thankfully Bel was in a place where everything Kim did was sheer hotness. Kim’s cry even masked the king’s that came on its heels. He kept going as he’d promised, harder and harder until the eruption seemed to attack his body. He was seized from head to toe as his fingers and toes curled. His hands instinctively went to Kim’s shoulders and pulled her closer, deeper, his body taking biological orders beyond him to impregnate her, thoroughly.
As they recovered, they heard the faint noises of the party picking up in shouts and song. Kim had to laugh and shake her head after she’d collapsed on the bed, her husband next to her. What a crazy place. She took solace in the fact that at least her moans of pleasure were probably about as faint as the party sounded from there. The guards, however, got an earful. Oh fuckin’ well. It’s not like they were allowed to look her in the eye.
She smiled. She looked over at Bel who was already sound asleep. She snickered. Poor baby, she thought. They’d been up since around this time the night before. And now he’d made love to her as though it was their first night together. She looked at him, his face in the candlelight with the same calm that always lay underneath. So much passion. And all in one man. She was glad he’d convinced her to leave
everything behind to come to take care of him. She had one hell of a job on her hands. She’d planned a lot of lofty goals for herself in life and routinely met them, knowing that she’d needed to accomplish much, knowing it was all for something. But she’d never envisioned this.
The queen awoke the next morning, famished, a bit sore, and alone.
Bel had awakened her in the middle of the night to make love again in the pitch black. The candles were long gone, a pile of wax. This time Kim discreetly took charge and rode him until he bucked and tossed, as if in the grips of madness. The party continued to go on in one form or another until the dawn as if everyone was taking shifts. Ghassan made all American celebrations look disgraceful. At some point in the night, the king had Prince Jabari brought in to the tent so that she could nurse him, since she’d leaked all over the sheets and her breasts had now become rocks they were so full. When she’d finally awoken fully she sat up in bed and was startled by the sight of Thana asleep at her side on the pillowy floor. Kim tried to wake Jabari, but he was still in the milk coma from hours earlier. She needed relief again.
Bitch, you are a queen, she told herself. But it was no use. She simply could not wake others to send them to go do something she could trust herself to do properly. Quietly she stalked around the tent naked and looked for a robe. In the bathroom, she found one, along with a note from Bel. Reminded me of you, it said. It was a beautifully printed silk robe that made the image of a butterfly on the front where the two ends tied. Unfortunately, she was ruining it with her milk. She quietly vowed to stop ruining garments that were made without tags in them and shipped along the original silk road while she was queen. Back home she’d had years old shirts from Ross that she’d taken better care of.
When she attempted to exit the tent, there was a very large man with a very large gun, startled by the sight of a statuesque, somewhat scantily clad Kim in a silk robe with milk stains on the front.