by Ana Adams
Rawnie yanked his jacket down over his arms, tossing it to the side without ever breaking the seal of their lips. She undid buttons as their tongues met, sloppy and deep. When his shirt was open, she smoothed her hands over his chest, moaning low.
“I’ve been waiting to do this,” she whispered, “since last year.”
He grinned, letting the shirt fall to the ground. He cinched her closer at the waist, admiring the lush slope of her breasts, pushed together by the corseted dress top. He dipped down to smooth his lips over her neck, into the fragrant valley of her breasts.
She giggled. “Don’t let Anwar Jr. see you. He’ll be jealous.”
“Let daddy have them for a night,” he murmured, licking his way up her chest. “Now how do I get you out of this dress?”
“We might have to call for help,” she said, spinning around, moving her elegantly curled locks over her shoulder. “The clasp is somewhere beneath the diamonds. Hell if I know where.”
Anwar fidgeted with the seam, searching out the clasp and zipper. He finally found it and unzipped the back of the dress slowly, breath catching as the caramel arc of her back revealed itself, her bony spine jutting out as she bent over to shimmy out of the dress.
She turned to him, clad in a bustier and silk white panties. His breath evaporated.
“Well, prince?” Her dark eyes were lined with kohl; looking at her was like peering into a fantasy. “Have me.”
He pulled her to him, their bodies crashing hard together. Anwar guided them toward his bedroom, laughing through kisses and stumbling over a footstool until they reached the bed. He paused, pushing her ever so slightly at the hips. She sprang backwards, using the bounce of the bed to launch up once, and then somersaulted before landing.
“Now your turn,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at him.
“For somersaults or for something else?” He pulled her toward him; she inhaled sharply, locking her ankles behind his back.
“Definitely something else.”
His hands wandered up and down the sides of her body, his cock pressing against his zipper. She eyed it with a lusty glimmer, biting her lower lip.
“You see something you like?” He reached behind her back, unclasping the bustier. It loosened and he slid the straps down, breath catching in his throat.
“I see a lot of things I like.” She shrugged her shoulders out of the bustier, casting it aside. Dark areolas greeted him, nipples two tight points, and he buried his face in her cleavage, drinking in her scent, leaving kisses in his wake as his lips trailed toward the taut nipple.
She shivered beneath him when his mouth covered one and then the other. His kisses moved lower, over her small waist, over the curve of her hip, nuzzling his face over the smooth fabric of her panties.
“Anwar,” she breathed, sounding like she was coming undone. “I can’t even tell you…”
“Hmmm?” He buried his nose in the delicious crease between her legs, exhaling over the most sensitive area. She moved against him, knotting fingers in his hair. He passed a tongue over the crotch of the panties and she whimpered, spreading her legs.
He stood, sliding the panties down her legs and to the ground, eyeing the dark patch of hair like a shark plotting his attack. He returned to his post, cock pressing into the bedspread, need clawing at him with aching fingers as she widened her legs further.
“My princess…” He kissed his way up her inner thigh, eager to return to the sweet warmth in the middle, the juicy dribbles that he lapped up like candy. “Doesn’t that sound nice?”
She moaned and clutched at his hair.
He licked once at the peak of her clit; she tensed and he did it again, then slowly pushed a finger into her. She was wet and hot for him, so much that it made him mindless with desire. He fingered her slowly, trying to control his breath, lavishing attention on the tight nub before he came against the mattress ingloriously, like an amateur.
But this woman drove him wild. He dipped in another finger and she practically panted, moaning his name. Too much…he’d come in a second if she kept this up. He pulled away and unbuttoned his pants, fumbling to get them to the ground. He stepped out of his briefs and eased onto the bed, his cock nestling hot between her legs.
“Fuck me,” she growled.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He lined up his cock, guiding himself to the right spot, and then pressed himself inside, groaning as he sank into her, her drenched pussy taking all of him, deeper and deeper, until he was buried to the hilt. She threw her head back and keened, nails digging into his low back, urging him closer.
“Fuck,” he gasped, and rolled his hips against her. Her heat was too sweet, too powerful, to last much longer. He’d been dying for this release for over a year. How was she the only one who could affect him this way?
Rawnie wrapped a leg around his back, and the other one she hooked over his shoulder. Her dexterity was so amazing it bordered on frightening—but the depth, good lord, he could fuck her so deep like this. His vision closed in and he fought to keep control. She clutched at him, breathing heavier.
“I’m close,” she moaned. “Anwar, don’t stop.”
Her pussy clenched tight around his cock and he lost it, rocking against her as hard and fast as he could. The climax buzzed up from the core of his being, waves of pleasure that almost knocked him to his knees. He cried out as he came, scooping her up into his arms so he could feel her chest against his. He spasmed against her, cock pulsing as his warm seed filled her. She moaned so loud and long that he worried someone might come to check on them.
She relaxed beneath him, extracting her fingernails from his shoulder blades. Face ruddy and shiny, she grinned up at him, laughing like a shy little girl.
“Holy shit.” He fought to catch his breath, his softening cock still buried inside her.
“Yeah.” She trailed her fingertips down his arm. “That was…definitely what I’d been hoping for.”
“Glad I could provide.” He dipped down, brushing his lips against hers; their tongues intertwined and they got lost in a flurry of kisses. When they parted, he gazed at her, emotion welling from deep inside.
“Rawnie, I love you.”
The words tumbled out like boulders; something he’d needed to get out, an admission that surprised even him. Her eyebrows shot up, a smile creeping onto her face.
“I love you too, Anwar.” Her thumb grazed his cheek, but he swore he saw confusion there. It was all confusing to him—this was the only thing he knew though. Rawnie was in his life, and they’d figure out the way forward.
She moved against him, and his cock perked up again.
“Is that…?” Rawnie began.
“Mmm.” He buried his face in her cleavage, biting at a nipple. “It is. I hope you’re ready for everything I have to give you.”
“I am.” Her eyes twinkled. “Lay it on me.”
***
The next morning, Rawnie woke up extra early, breasts aching. She needed to breastfeed or pump as soon as possible. Biting back a groan, she eased out of bed, careful not to disturb Anwar.
She’d slept in his arms like a baby, lulled by his heartbeat, more sated and drunk off orgasms than she’d ever been in her life.
Snatching up her bra and undies, she roamed the bedchamber looking for something to cover herself. No way was she getting back into that wedding dress—it was a two-woman job. She found a robe hanging on the bathroom door and shrugged it on, hurrying to the upstairs wing where her own rooms were.
As she entered the bedroom, Fatin was up with Anwar Jr., giving him a bottle. She looked exhausted.
“Thank God you’re here.” Fatin passed her son over. “He was up early and we’re almost out of breastmilk.”
“Good thing Mama showed up.” She let him latch and stroked his forehead as he ate, loving the curl of his creamy fingers against her breast. Sighing, she assessed Fatin.
“Sorry if he kept you up.” Rawnie paced the room as he nursed. “I meant to st
op over and check in but…”
Fatin lifted her hands. “No need to explain. I can imagine well enough on my own.”
Rawnie smiled, looking out over the gardens. Something had been gnawing at her since the wedding…an idea that just wouldn’t leave her alone.
It had even shown up in a dream: she and Anwar Jr. had escaped from the castle grounds at nightfall, their only things a backpack and a canteen of water. They slipped into the countryside, leaving behind a simple note.
She could still taste the fresh air in her lungs as she’d run down the country road.
“Is everything okay?” Fatin tided the recently washed baby clothes nearby.
“I think I made a mistake.” The words came out, unbidden. She was hardly conscious of thinking them, even. They were just ready to emerge.
“In what?”
“Marrying Anwar.” She spun to face Fatin. “I made a mistake.”
“Come now…you made no mistake. You know what’s best for you and your son. You’ve been telling me all along.
“I had a dream that I escaped.” She swallowed a sick knot. “Fatin, when I dream, it’s powerful. It’s always been this way. It’s a sign, I’m telling you.”
She furrowed her brow. “I think you’re just feeling nervous, is all—”
“I’m not nervous about anything except staying.” She came closer to Fatin. “Don’t you understand? This is a mistake. Anwar can’t see it yet because he thinks he’s in love with me.”
“Did he tell you he is?”
“Yes. He did.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him I loved him too.”
Fatin furrowed a brow. “Was it a lie?”
“No.” She swallowed tears that emerged suddenly. “It wasn’t a lie. But I can’t do the job they need. I’m a princess now—and soon a queen?’ She shook her head. “I’m Roma, Fatin. I’ve never stayed in one place for more than a year.”
“I’m sure you’ll come around,” Fatin said. “You and the prince can travel, and there is so much to entertain you here at the castle—”
“But this is no way for him to live. Tied to a wife and child he didn’t ask for. He’ll resent me and his son someday because of it—I know he will!”
“My sweet, you can’t say these things. He’s so happy with you, he’s—”
“He’s blinded by the celebrating and the quick choices. Give it a month, or a year. By then, for sure, he’ll be over this. Over us.” She shook her head, mind working through details of an escape plan. “I won’t live a life where I’m rejected again. I won’t have him turn away from us.”
Fatin’s face creased with concern. “Can’t you just talk to him?”
“No.” She switched Anwar Jr. to the other breast. “He won’t understand in the same way. I don’t want him to worry—I just want him to live as happily and freely as he can. I know the value of freedom; he’s lived in captivity his whole life; he doesn’t need extra weight on top.”
Fatin tutted. “Oh, please, think logically!”
Rawnie lifted her baby to burp him, eyes focused on a faraway point. “I just want to make it easy for him. And I think I know the solution.”
Fatin brought a hand to her forehead. “Don’t tell me.”
“We’ll stage our deaths, so baby Anwar and I can run away.” She held up a hand when Fatin began to protest. “It’s the best solution. If we’re dead, then he’s free. I’ll write the note, but I’ll need your help.”
Tears sprang to Fatin’s eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“But I need you to.” Rawnie went to her side, searching her face for support. “Please, Fatin. Tell me you’ll help us. Tell me you’ll make all our lives easier. If we stage our deaths, then Anwar is not obligated to us. The only reason he married me is because the baby is his. If I hadn’t shown up with a child, we wouldn’t be married right now.”
Fatin sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “What do I need to do?”
Rawnie straightened her back, eying the room. “We have to work fast.”
***
Anwar awoke with a start as a ray of early morning sunlight crested over his eyelids. He rolled over, expecting Rawnie’s sinewy body interlaced with his, but instead found nothing. He cracked an eye. The bed was empty.
“Rawnie, darling?” He sat up, yawning, finding new aches from the endless dancing and fucking from the night before. A smile drifted across his face. Now this was a way to wake up that he could get used to. A far cry from the hangovers and lost nights from before.
Truth be told, he hadn’t drunk or wanted to drink since Rawnie showed up. Maybe he’d been too preoccupied or busy, but now that she was around, he had other things pulling at his attention. She filled a strange void in him he’d never fully been aware of. Now he knew how empty his life had been without her.
“Rawnie!” He took a quick piss and then wandered into the living room. Her wedding dress was there, crumpled into a strange pile, like the wearer had simply melted away, leaving the dress in its place.
He remembered her occasional complaints of milk pain and wondered if maybe she’d gone back to nurse their son. He slid on a pair of sweatpants and pulled on a shirt, hurrying toward her chambers.
From the angles of light that entered the hallways, it had to be early—maybe not even nine a.m. He yawned as he strode down the hall, eager to catch her eye, see the mischievous curve of her smile, the sexy way she regarded him while their son nursed at her breast.
The smile returned to his face.
At her door, he knocked once and then let himself in. Husband privileges, after all. Fatin turned to him, gasping, pressing a note to her chest. Her eyes were red and watery.
“Fatin, is everything okay?”
She shook her head, hand trembling as she held out a note. “Prince Anwar…they’re gone.”
Fear made cartwheels in his belly. He snatched the note out of her hand. “Who is gone?”
“Rawnie and…and…” Her breath hitched and a sob escaped. “Your son.”
His breath shriveled in his throat and he read the note; wispy letters greeted him.
Dear Anwar,
There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Probably too much. And while I’ve enjoyed, deeply, the time we’ve spent together here in your home, we must be realistic. I have too much darkness inside me to last much longer here. I haven’t let you see this side of me, but it’s there, and it’s deadly.
I don’t want to be a burden to you anymore. I will take this matter into my own hands, since I know you will try to stop us. I’ve decided to take my life, and the baby’s. I want you to be happy, and I want you to be free.
We’ve loved you, as long as we’ve known you. Thank you for everything.
Goodbye.
Love, Rawnie & Anwar Jr.
Chapter Nine
Anwar slammed the note down onto the end table, anger stampeding him. “This is a joke.”
Fatin shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “She’s gone off and done it.”
“This is a lie.” He crumpled the note in his hand, throwing it across the room. “Nobody loves that child more than Rawnie. Who made her write this?”
“Nobody, sir.”
“Did you see her?”
Fatin hesitated then shook her head.
“You’re lying too.” Anwar strode closer, towering over her, leaning down to get close to her face. “Did Diaab make her do this? Tell me the truth.”
“No, prince Anwar. He hasn’t been here.”
“Then what is the reason for that ridiculous note?” He paced the room, mind whipping around like a loose water hose. “She would never harm our son…nor herself. Why would she leave?”
Fatin cried, sinking into a chair. “I…I don’t know.”
Anwar paused, snapping his head to look at her. “Did you see her today?”
Fatin didn’t respond, burying her face in her hands, crying harder.
“Answer me.
Did you see her?”
“Yes.”
Anwar stepped closer. “Where has she gone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Answer me.”
“She wouldn’t tell me!”
Anwar curled his fists, struggling to think clearly. There could be a million places she’d escape to. But why?
“Why did she do this?”
“She thought it was best for you,” Fatin whimpered. “She said it would be easier.”
“Jesus.” He ran a hand through his hair, calculating where he might look first. There was no way in hell Rawnie was actually planning a murder-suicide; it was almost laughable, how improbable that was. But it meant she’d probably hit the road, and he needed to intercept her quickly.
No doubt she just wanted to exit without a fight…unless there was something sinister prompting her to make the exit. Had she been lying to him the night before? Had the entire week been a lie?
No matter the reason, he had to go after them. He bolted out the door, feet slapping against the stone floor as he pressed himself to run as fast as he could. Inside his room he threw on a jacket and running shoes, pocketing his phone before he left.
Curious glances greeted him as he tore through the hallways, heart in his throat as he reached the main entrance.
The guard on duty lifted a brow as he arrived.
“Have you seen Rawnie and my son leave through here?” He struggled to catch his breath. The air outside was crisp, the sun still cresting. “Please, tell me if you’ve seen them.”
“They went through about ten minutes ago, with a maid.” He pointed toward the street beyond the castle walls. “Just to get something from the store. They should be back within the hour.”
Anwar bolted for the street, unsure where the hell he was even going, but desperate to get there. He burst through the castle gates, taking a left that headed toward town, the early-morning birdsong a dissonant contrast to the choking urgency of his mission.
As he barreled down the street, pedestrians grew more frequent, inquisitive eyes on him as he ran like a bat out of hell. He’d search every alley, every street, every bus stop until he found a trace of her and his son. On the main road, the people were sparse enough and the lanes long enough that he could see a long way down the road—no sign of Rawnie or the baby. He turned down a side street, peeking into doorways and alleys, calling her name.