She came around him, and the feeling of her muscles squeezing his length was too much. He erupted inside of her, crying out with the force of the confusing emotions that were running through him. He had never taken a woman’s virginity. Even as a young man, he had dated sophisticated, experienced women.
“You were untouched,” he said, when his breathing had returned to normal. He was still inside her, and strangely, he was hesitant to separate their bodies.
He pushed up onto his elbows though, easing his weight from her.
She crinkled her nose. “That’s a funny way to say that I was a virgin,” she responded.
“Only you could make me feel frustrated after what we’ve just shared,” he scowled.
Emma was struggling to string two words together. She felt drunk. High. Elated. The initial pain and fear of taking something so big, so deep inside of her, had quickly transformed into mind-blowing bliss. She had never known sex was like that!
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked a moment later, and she realized he must have still been thinking about it.
She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”
“Of course it’s a big deal. Habibte, I would have been gentler if I’d known. I would certainly have chosen somewhere more comfortable for your first time,” he grimaced.
“Well, I wouldn’t change a thing.” She smiled up at him, and it was the smile of a completely happy, satisfied woman. He felt a thud of something heavy in his chest and he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth.
“You are mine.” He said against her lips, and, as his erection stirred inside of her, he moved, surprising her, and him, with the strength of his desire.
Emma moaned and he knew they were both ready for more. Kissing her was intoxicating. He ran his hands the length of her body as they made love, and this time, he made sure to satisfy her again and again before allowing himself the sweet release of orgasm.
“Stay here,” he said, a moment later as, with regret, he pulled himself from her delectable body. “Do not move an inch.”
She was incapable of arguing. Her body felt sapped of energy. She wanted to sleep. She lay there, naked, staring up at the azure sky, and the fluffy clouds that floated far over head, enjoying the sensation of a light breeze on her newly awakened body. She wasn’t sure how long Rafiq was gone, but when he reappeared, dressed in his robes, her body instantly recognized him, and desire flooded through her.
He sat beside her, and ran a finger from the cleft of her chin, to the valley between her breasts. “Good,” he said, satisfied. “You did not move. Perhaps you are learning obedience.”
“Don’t count on it,” she said groggily, flashing a look at him that showed she was anything but.
“Mmm,” he said, leaning forward and taking her nipple in his mouth again. “I’m not sure I like the idea of an obedient Emma anyway.”
“What happened to bending me to your will?”
“Oh, I can bend you to my will,” he said with a ravishing grin, “That’s a different matter entirely.”
“Well, if that was bending me to your will, I’m happy to be bent anytime.”
He arched his brows at the unintentionally suggestive language she’d used. He removed his hand from her cleavage and she felt immediately bereft, but he was back by her side instantly, this time, with a bowl of strawberries in hand. He plucked one of the perfect, red fruits from the bowl and ran it down her nose, hovering it just above her lips. “For you?”
“Thank you.” And she opened her mouth slightly, so that he could feed the fruit to her. He watched, transfixed, as she slowly chewed it and swallowed, a tiny drip of red juice escaping from the side of her lips. Enthralled, he caught it with his finger, then lifted it to his own lips and tasted.
Emma shivered at the sensuous action, her eyes wide.
“Are you cold?” He asked, nothing escaping his attention.
She shook her head. “No. A little self conscious now, though.” She pushed off the ground and would have stood, had he not placed a hand on her shoulders.
“You are dressed just as you should be.” And he unclasped his own robe, so that he was once again naked, and sat down behind her. He pulled her back against his broad chest, so that their bodies were in contact.
He had been with many women, in his time, and he prided himself on a very healthy libido. But he’d never known his body to react so swiftly, so often, as this. Already, he could feel his arousal tingling with remembered sensations. He cupped her breasts from behind, teasing her nipples between the pad of his thumb and forefinger. “I think we are going to enjoy getting to know one another better,” he murmured against her ear, and she tipped her head back in assent, giving him greater access to her body.
Food forgotten, he moved one hand further down her body, over her soft abdomen, to the curls at her apex. Her legs were pressed together but he parted them with one movement, and ran the pad of his thumb over her womanhood. She convulsed with pleasure as his fingers entered her again, this time slowly, gently, careful of her newly sensitized flesh. As she collapsed back against him, he brought her to climax again. While his fingers moved inside her, and his other hand flicked and pulled at her breast, he kissed the soft skin of her neck, feeling her fluttering pulse for himself. And when she fell apart, calling out with sexual ecstasy, he whispered against her ear in his own language, that he would never let her go.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The desert sands of Amar’a were even more beautiful than she’d imagined. As their jeep sped away from the Ruins of Shilleth, Emma sighed sleepily. The ruins had captivated her from first sight. She couldn’t have known that they would bring more magic to her soul than she knew existed in the universe.
She angled her face so that she could look at the powerful man beside her. His expression was as it had ever been. There was no sign of the passion they’d shared. No sign of the red-hot desire that they’d finally succumbed to. As he drove the car further and further across the desert, he seemed even more feral, somehow. A creature of the true wild.
Pins and needles of adrenalin and desire ran down her spine at the memory of what they’d done. She turned her attention away from Rafiq, to the vista beyond her window. The sands, a deep burnt orange, spread for miles and miles, in soft undulating mounds. At the edge of her eye’s range, the orange gave way to a fierce blue. Every now and again, gnarled old trees loomed into sight, and their car sped by, for hours.
The track they drove on was crude – full of bumps and deviations, and every time the car jolted, she felt sensations shoot through her. From beneath her lashes, she flicked her gaze at Rafiq, wondering if he felt equally as sensitized. He didn’t seem to, and it made her frown. Her whole world had just tilted on its axis. She hoped he felt the same.
As they crested over yet another hill, a small collection of tents came into view. It was like something out of a story book. Smaller white tents clustered together, around another tent, a little larger in size, but not by much. The whole arrangement looked somewhat permanent.
“Who lives here?” Emma asked, turning her whole body to face Rafiq in the confines of the car.
“Nobody lives here,” he said, cutting the engine and staring straight ahead. “It’s a meeting place.”
“It’s striking.”
He looked at it through renewed eyes. The starkness of it was quite beautiful. Then again, he was biased. There wasn’t a grain of sand in Amar’a that he didn’t think perfect.
“It serves its purpose.” He pushed open the door of the jeep and stepped out onto the sand. He breathed deeply. The desert was where he felt most at home. It was in his blood. He moved to Emma’s side of the jeep and opened the door.
The first thing Emma noticed was that it was several degrees hotter here than it had been at the Ruins of Shilleth, or at the palace in Agbesh. It was truly like walking into an oven and she instinctively held a hand up to her head to shield the heat.
“Where is your security detail?” She asked
as they walked towards the largest of the tents.
“I told them to wait behind. I thought we should be alone.”
“Oh.” Anticipation throbbed in her stomach. Now that she’d tasted what Rafiq had to offer, she wanted more of it. She could see herself turning into a sex-addict in no time whatsoever.
Rafiq pulled open the curtain to the tent and Emma stepped inside. It was nothing like what she’d expected. There were carpets on the floor, a mattress in the corner. It looked comfortable and welcoming, but it was not dripping with opulence, and she was thrilled.
“Finally! A place I’m not terrified of spilling juice on the tiles.”
He shot her a quizzical look.
Emma walked slowly around the space, inspecting the details as she went. “I’m just saying, your life is pretty glamorous. I wouldn’t be able to live like that permanently. I feel like a bull in a china shop.”
Rafiq pulled two bottles of ice water from the generator powered fridge his team had put in place for the coming meetings. “There is nothing bull-like about you, habibte.”
Emma took one of the bottles he was holding out and unscrewed the lid. “You know what I mean. I guess you grew up like it, so you wouldn’t understand.”
“What is your home like, Emma?”
She screwed up her nose – yet another gesture he was learning to interpret, she did it so often. “It’s comfortable. I spend a lot of time at home. It’s a place I like to be. It’s relaxed.”
“More like this?”
“Far less exotic,” she said with a laugh. “But yes. Sofas you can put your feet on. Floors you want to lie on for hours, reading a good book.” She shrugged. “Comfortable.”
“And you do not find my palace comfortable?”
“No.”
“You will learn.”
She shook her head slowly. “Rafiq, you know I can’t marry you.”
His eyes flashed for the briefest of seconds with rage, but he quickly hid it behind a bland expression. “This is not the time to discuss it, Emma.”
She bit down on her lip. He was probably right to put the conversation on hold. After all, she didn’t even know what she wanted anymore. Making love with Rafiq had knocked all her assertions on their heads. Now that she’d had him, could she really let him go?
But the marriage he’d described was so cold. Having shared what they had, could she really marry him? Knowing that they would see one another only occasionally? He had said he would be faithful, but what if he did cheat? She wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Rafiq watch the subtle play of feelings on her face. She was so transparent. So completely without artifice. He knew she was upset. Worried. And he didn’t know why. He told himself he shouldn’t care. Their marriage was not negotiable. And by tomorrow, he knew she’d be on the same page.
Much later, after they’d made love again on the carpets of the tent, Emma propped her chin on his chest, a serious look on her face.
“Rafiq, I still haven’t been able to tell Cassandra about our situation.” She bit down on her lip. “I just don’t want her to be angry, and I know she will be.”
He frowned. “Why would she be angry?”
“Because I came to you. I went behind her back.” He laced his fingers through hers and held them to his heart.
“You did it because you believed it was in her best interests, yes?”
“Yes, of course. But the result has not worked out the way I imagined.”
“Is that a complaint?”
Her laugh was short, and filled with sadness. “Not exactly.” She stroked her finger along his thumb. “What will you do if… if she doesn’t come here?”
“Apart from marrying you?”
“Stop it.” She squeezed his fingers. “You know I’m not a bargaining chip anymore.”
“Why do you say that?”
Color stole into her cheeks and with her eyes, she gestured to their naked state. “Because we’re more than that now.”
His green eyes were unapologetic. “Which does not make you any less my hostage.”
“I mean it, Rafiq, don’t talk like that.”
“Why do you think you can’t be both my lover by choice and my prisoner at the same time?”
“Because I can’t!” She leaped to her feet and stared down at him angrily. “I’m an American! We don’t think like that. You can’t hold me here against my will and make love to me at the same time.”
“We had sex today, when you knew you were my prisoner. What has changed?” She noticed with a sick feeling that he had substituted the word sex for the phrase ‘make love’.
“Everything’s changed.” She froze. “Hasn’t it?”
“Not the essentials, no.”
“Oh, god, Rafiq, what have I done?” She waved her face with her hand, suddenly feeling sick and like she was about to cry.
“I do not understand what the problem is,” he said indolently, still sprawled on the floor where their bodies had come together not minutes before.
“I find it offensive.” She tapped her foot on the floor, trying to find a way to get through to him. “So, if we married, I would have to be tied to you permanently?”
“Yes. The purpose of our marriage will be to beget an heir to replace the child in Cassandra’s belly. And that child, as I have already established, will be raised in Amar’a.”
Emma felt hot and cold all over. Outside, the day was slowly fading to evening, and a refreshing breeze was blowing past the tent. Or at least, that’s what she thought. Having not been raised in Amar’a, she couldn’t have known that the noise was something far more menacing.
“So this means nothing to you?”
He pushed up to a seated position and grabbed her hand, but she pulled it away. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled to discover just how spectacular our sex life is. I never imagined I would feel that way about my wife.”
She spun away from him and grabbed for the nearest thing she could find from her duffel bag. It was a flowing green dress and she pulled it on over her head, suddenly furious.
“I’m going for a walk.” She said angrily, pushing out of the tent before he could say anything. The wind was stronger than she’d anticipated, and it was whipping flecks of sand into her face but she didn’t care. She pushed on, wiping angry tears from her cheeks as she went. How bloody dared he? He was so arrogant. So hurtfully, horribly arrogant.
She’d slept with him, and that same day, he’d made it feel like a tawdry little bonus point. Not the main event. Uncharacteristically, she swore, shouting into the wind. Cassandra was right. She really was an idiot.
Rafiq was caught up in his own thoughts and he missed the warning signs. It was only when the flap of the tent slapped against the ground that he realized what was happening. And he’d let Emma wander out into a full blown desert sandstorm. Fear gripped his stomach like a vice, and naked as the day he was born, he tore out of the tent. He could see her, not too far away, holding her hands up to her face, her body being stung by tiny, high-speed shards of sand.
He ran, full pelt, his feet digging into the soft sand underfoot as he went. He didn’t care about the way his own body was being shredded by the desert he so loved, swirling high-velocity winds turning the sand into shrapnel. He just had to get her back to the tent.
He reached Emma and scooped her up. He was surprised, and very slightly amused, that she immediately pummeled his shoulder. Even a sandstorm apparently couldn’t extinguish this woman’s rage, and he begrudgingly admired her for it.
Back inside, safe from the sandstorm, he set her down on the floor, casting her a look of frustration as he zipped the tent down and secured it with pegs.
“Drink this,” Rafiq said, handing her a bottle of water. She was covered in tiny flecks of sand. In her hair, her eyelashes. Emma swallowed a little of the water and spat it out, coughing as the bits of desert that had lodged in her nostrils cleared out.
“I suppose I should thank you for rescuing me,” she s
aid haughtily, somehow managing to look incredibly hypnotic despite having done battle with the desert and lost.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re not going to?” His response was sardonic. He pulled a pair of jeans on and walked casually to the fridge, removing a selection of meals his staff had left.
“Because, you big idiot, I wouldn’t have been out there if you hadn’t been such a royal jerk.” She hissed between her teeth, almost delirious from shock, hurt, fear and adrenalin.
“I should not have let you go,” he said apologetically. “I did not hear the wind.”
“There’s our problem!” She said with a snap of her fingers. “You think you need to let me do things. That idea is abhorrent to me. I can’t marry someone who thinks that controlling another person is normal.”
“I’m a King, Emma,” he said, his voice rich with humor. “I control an entire country.”
“Well, not me. It just won’t work.”
“In which case, you must go back to my original request, of bringing Cassandra to Amar’a.”
She gritted her teeth. “And then you’ll let me go?”
“Yes. I have told you so many times.”
“Even after we’ve… after…”
“You would be the one making the decision to leave me, Emma.” He said with such logic it stung.
She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hand. They were going around in circles, and the problem was, there was no real answer.
“You said you were going to disinherit Mansour. Are you really going to?”
“I have frozen his accounts until he comes home. Without access to money, Mansour will quickly run out of interest in independence.” In fact, it should have happened already, Rafiq thought discontentedly. Weeks ago, he’d put a hold on his credit cards.
“But to disinherit him…”
“I do not relish the prospect, but having threatened it several times, it comes to the point where I must follow through.”
The Sheikh's Virgin Hostage: Seducing her was never part of the plan... Page 9