I can’t tell who moved first, but around us there is so much waiting, an aura of raw and pungent sensuality rises enveloping us, overwhelming and irresistible. I close my eyes and he orders in a hoarse voice:
-Open your eyes and look at me.
And so, his lips touch mine, like a spring breeze: sweet and soft. So soft and so perfect Nahan's mouth on mine.
I open my lips in surprise, and he slides his tongue into my mouth, watching me in languid movements, I taste the warmth of his tongue and we gasp together, our lips docked in synchrony.
It has never been so perfect, no one has ever kissed me like that, with such delivery, a sexy and addictive blend of warmth, desire and delicacy. As if my mouth was something rare, precious, I bite into his lips and he lets out a hoarse groan, his hands coming down from the back of my neck and running down my back, making me shiver.
After we kiss a little more and still wanting more, Nahan nibbles at my lips, between moans and unresolved whispers. His eyes spilling into heat, scorching my entire body.
My sex pulsating, begging for something I can’t have, but still, I want it more than anything, to taste and dive a little more in these sensations, without thinking about tomorrow.
-You will not leave, I can’t let you go, don’t hate me, I will not do you any harm, but I want you to understand that your home is now here in Manama.
- But there is my sister, my family, I live in Brazil, my place is not here Nahan.
-Shhh, no! Do not ask me to free you, it will not be possible.
-Why not?
Because I need to feel again, I need to be human again, to be a man, not this bag of bones and empty flesh. Because you make me a less miserable being and I'm a selfish bastard that even after losing everyone I loved, I did not give up living, yet knowing that it was the right thing to have died with them both. I want so much to explain to her that Jafar's error in abducting her by mistake brought the joy of a chance into my days. I can’t let her go because now that I've tasted her mouth, I've smelled her, I've become captive, I've become a prisoner, I don’t want to be free. I can’t kill her, I don’t want to leave her, and I don’t want to lose her.
- Because I can’t. You are my guest, involuntary, and so you will remain, accept this.
I disengage myself from his arms and flee, I run as if escaping the devil, why did he have to kiss me like that?
And worst of all, why do I still want more and so much, that it scares me?
I do not know what to think or say, I go back to my room and lie down in bed, lost and frightened by the whole twist my life took.
What if he does not let me go any further? What will I ultimately do with my life? I look for the answers and I don’t find them.
Almost half an hour later, my bedroom door opens and Nahan comes in, balancing a breakfast tray in his hands. He puts it on the nightstand, looks at me with his hands in his pants pocket and before leaving me alone again, adds:
-Eat it, we'll talk later, and do not lock the door.
- Yes sir.
God! I do not deserve such a torment, she is calling me sir with her mouth making an angry pout and it drives me crazy, I need to get out of here before I scare her any more than I already did.
What a delicious mouth, I want to kiss her again, but I can’t, we can’t and yet I want to taste her lips again, just one more time.
CHAPTER 3
NAHAN
I walk impatiently, walking half lost, inside my own palace without knowing for sure what to do or how to act.
What the hell is happening to me anyway?
Wandering around the house, unnoticed, I'm already in the kitchen, like a boy, looking for Thurayya's support.
Thura is my aunt, she was my nanny and breast mother, besides being my cook, housekeeper, and shoulder to cry on at the times I needed and when I didn’t.
I go into the kitchen and the three cooks line up, as I walk through the door. Sometimes these protocols hit me. I raise my chest, trying to demonstrate to myself some authority, even though I am so lost, I cross my hands behind my back and do it with a nod.
Jasmine anticipates and returns the greeting, bowing unnecessarily.
- Good morning, Your Majesty.
- Good morning, Jasmine, Fatimah, Nair. Where is Thurayya?
Fatimah steps forward and stutters trying to explain, why do most of the time, people stutter when talking to me? Do I seem so rigid? I'd rather not think about the answer.
-Thurayya went to attend the spice supplier, do you want me to bring her here, sir?
-No, it is not necessary.
I know my face is not the best, but they do not have to look like lambs about to go to slaughter.
-You can continue your chores, I'll wait for her here.
I look at the table and I remember myself as a boy, sitting in front of the huge wood stove, while Thura bandaged my scratches after my horse falls.
I sit down and look at my watch, I wait three minutes, I hate waiting, it annoys me when I want to talk to this unbearable old woman and she is not here. How is Jafar getting on in the basement? Did he eat? I'll see it with my own eyes.
I scream going towards the door:
-Thurayya, where are you?
I wash my hands to disguise my tension from what happend after I had the coffee and when I look at the door, there she comes, fat and frowning, her slippers crawling noisily across the hallway, and in the middle of the corridor, and the enormous hips hit the vase next to the door. She carries two large packages in her arms, mumbling as usual.
-Some fire in your suite, my lord?
-No, why Thura?
-I'm old, my ears could burst with your screams. Will you be kind and take one of these packages for me?
The other cooks run away like rats about to see the ship sink, they know that my strikes with Thura are made for those with a strong heart.
I take the two packages from her limp arms and she glares at me smiling.
-I'm always kind to you, Thura. If I was not a noble man, you'd have been mocking the dungeon with a tight rope tied around your fists.
She makes a movement as if bowing and looks at me with her vivid, wrinkled eyes.
-Well, accept my thanks, I can’t go lower, my spine hurts, my beloved king.
I walk from side to side and she watches me, heading towards the old wood stove, which only she insists on continuing to use.
-Have you slept?
I shake my head, she keeps looking at me, silent and observant, then brings a plate to the table, pulls me by the arm, making me sit down.
-Eat some mahmoul2 and fatayer3, I made it earlier today, they're fresh.
I deny her offer and she raises an eyebrow, I change my mind, and take the plate from her hand. She serves me a steaming cup of bitter coffee, with a generous pinch of cardamom and a drop of milk, just the way I like it.
- I already know about the incident with the Brazilian.
- Really?
-Did you forget that Jafar is my son? He is very embarrassed by the error of his men. Shall I pack the bag for the foreigner?
How can I explain this to Thura or anyone else that she's going to stay here? I know the right thing to do is to send her back home.
It would be a very dangerous mission, since Sheikh Hafiq certainly shielded the country from all sides.
But it's not the retaliation that keeps me from releasing her, that's how I feel ... The unbridled way my heart beats when I look at that girl.
She messes with me in a way that I have not felt, for many years.
To be honest, not even during my marriage, I do not think I've ever been that overwhelmed by those unsettling and strange feelings I experience when I'm around Bianca.
My marriage was meticulously planned by our families, we understood each other in our purposes, Ishna was an irreplaceable companion, discreet, cultured, moulded to be a queen.
And she gave me a beautiful daughter, but these tremors, this anguish, the pulsating heat i
n my sex, for me this is all new and I don’t deal well with the uncontrolled, the unexpected ... The new sometimes is scary.
-No, I will not release her, Thura.
-I saw her from afar, what do you intend to do with her?
I rub my chin, thinking what to say, and she gets up, patted my shoulder and goes to the sink.
- Eat and drink your coffee, it’s getting cold. I understand, she needs clothes and a guard to accompany her, or do you intend to leave her without seeing the sunlight, locked in the bedroom?
I stick a big piece of fatayer in my mouth and strongly disagree.
-Guards no, they're young, they may disrespect her and I'd have to punish them, better an assistant to accompany her wherever she wants to go.
-Where does she want to go?
-Of course, I will not risk losing her. I mean, if she gets lost, she does not know the palace, the city, she might as well get lost, ah! You understood what I meant, Thura.
Thurayya smiled more than I would like her to, I hate this habit of hers, laughing when I get nervous, looking at me with this way of always knowing everything, ah! Hell, she understood what I said, it's not like I was afraid to lose her, after all, Bianca is not my thing, she's just my involuntary guest. Thura takes away the empty plate from my front and adds:
-She's very beautiful, Nahan.
-I don’t know, I didn’t notice.
Thura raised her eyebrow and shook her head, as if I was still that stupid boy who came into her arms when Dad beat me.
I pretended I did not understand her sarcastic air. Too grumpy, the older, the more curious she gets, I can still take courage and throw her in the basement, boring, nosy, annoying ... And I'm an asshole because I can’t live without her.
-I'm going upstairs to take a look at the girl, get her some clothes.
And she leaves grunting, not caring if I heard her.
-Oh, Allah, that boy lies so bad.
I reach the top of the stairs and an intense force urges me up to talk to Bianca. I still smell her, intoxicating my lucidity, how could I kiss her that way, almost taking her to the breakfast table? And she responded to my kisses with the same fury.
The same fire, consuming us both.
Two years alone ... two long years of insomnia, of revolt, of misery. Without ever having touched a woman, living day after day plunged in a bitter desire for revenge, having to live with my cowardice, I should have had the courage and joined my Amira, with her hair curled like an angel. But I was weak, I decided to survive for my people, to lead them, I was not strong enough to end it all.
I go to the office and pick up the game of chess, heading for the basement. Salim and Armed stand at the door, watching Jafar, and I inquire indignantly:
-Can you explain to me why Jafar is being watched by you? He's your boss, get the hell out of here and leave the door open, before I lock you in here and throw the key away.
Jafar is sitting on the bed, which seems to be quite uncomfortable, I enter his cloister and sit in a chair, arranging the game of chess on the table.
- Good morning, Jafar.
- Good morning my king.
I raise an eyebrow and glare up at him.
-We are alone, let go of the formalities.
-How is the foreigner, Nahan?
I nod my head so he sits with me and he accompanies me, he takes off his boots and shirt, he is in his pants only and looks frustrated.
-I think she's all right, your mother went to see if she needs anything.
Jafar stretches his legs on the chair and waits for me to complete, he is just like the unbearable old woman, they are just two grafts.
- She's going to stay with us Jafar.
- I already knew it.
- Already knew? How did you know? Since when? Do you by any chance have a crystal ball, became a fortune teller, Jafar Abdul?
He made the first move with the pawn and did not deign to face me.
-You do not have to be a psychic to see the obvious.
-Shut up, you and Thura are two wise people, two grateful. She will be my guest for the time being, I will not kill her, if they took the life of my Ishna and my Amira, it is only fair that I keep something of them. She's mine now, an eye for an eye, Jafar. This is and always will be the reason for her to continue here, are we understood?
I made a calculated move and Jafar without much effort and without contesting me, advanced another house. I proposed him a challenge.
- If you win this game, you will be free, back to work.
- Uhm.
Less than fifteen minutes later I was shamelessly defeated, Jafar collected his belongings, put on his boots, put on his shirt, and left the cloister with me. I took advantage of the fact that we were alone and had a glimmer of sincerity.
-I could not wait to beat you up at the horse race, it's very annoying not to have anyone to bother.
I patted him on the back and he smiled sheepishly.
-You’ve let me win the game of chess, didn’t you?
-Never, I'm too competitive for it, our race will be tomorrow, at eight o'clock, get ready to eat dust, Jafar.
And it all came back to its routine in my house, not everything, I needed to take a breath and talk to a certain guest.
I step slowly up the stairs and stop at Bianca's bedroom door, thinking what exactly I'm going to say.
I plan everything in my mind, meticulously, what I’ll tell her, she will remain my guest, but I will promise her that I will not touch her any more.
That's the least I can do ... Be an honest man.
Even if I ever leave my mourning, I will marry a Bahrain woman, one of many, who they have sent me to woo since I became a widower.
I could not relate myself with a foreigner, a woman totally different from our customs, with golden hair and flashy, I knock on her room’s door once, twice and continue to enumerate the reasons that make any relationship between us impossible, she is too young and too pretty, I open the door, entering distracted and suddenly, I stop thinking ...
She is curled up in a tiny towel, just out of the bath and my gaze chases the plentiful droplets that dance on her pale, soft skin.
Her long hair falls like cascades in the valley of her breasts, two good pieces of these divine mounds are exposed, calling me in a silent mantra and I walk towards her, the dry mouth wanting to drink it, drink from her breasts, intoxicate myself between her thighs, filling me with her cream.
I feel as if there was sawdust in my throat, I lift my eyes, lost in her splendour and she stares at me with parted lips.
I can no longer think, so much to say, so many plans, all planned, I advance towards her and my hands wrap around her waist, she turns her head to look at me and my lips creep like a beggar in her direction.
I need more and she gives it to me, her lips give me everything I want.
The soft mouth moulding mine, our tongues delighting in the blending of our flavours, with the anxiousness of our hunger.
Bianca wrapped her arms around my neck and I lifted her on the bathroom’s sink, wedged between her thighs. My erection throbbing and pulsating, to the point of almost tearing my pants off and still, held up by the fabric, I go crazy with the scorching heat of her little cunt rubbing my sex.
She smells like strawberries and vanilla, I feel the sweet scent that comes from her hair, from her skin and I pull it aside to have better access to her neck.
I slowly drag my tongue into her neck’s curve, nibbling at the lobe of her ear, softly, the nape of the nose, it smells so good, I'm lost ...
She moans softly, and so do I, her breasts pressed against my chest, her nipples hardening me through the towel.
I dig my hands in her soft thighs, her skin is so smooth, I slowly raise my hands and grab her hips, so feminine.
I need to be inside her body, warm, soft, touching it seems so right, so perfect, my heart widens, poured into desire and something more that I can’t name ... but that invades me, It’s something that rejoices me,
making me feel alive again, human again, not that husk of man, male, who every night wanders through this palace trying to find a way to end the pain.
Being in her arms makes me feel so manly, so raw, so primitive, voracious, hungry.
While I get lost in her mouth, I say nonsense words, moaning, panting, wanting more, asking for everything, I want it so much!
My hands rise in the opening of her towel and the damp cloth falls on her waist, revealing perfect breasts. Round, soft, made-to-measure for my hands.
I go down the valley of her chest and my beard is scratching her skin, tearing out a moan, a cry. I kiss the soft, pale flesh, the little pink nipples trying to taste them and I'm not stronger, I can’t resist anymore.
I squeeze a nipple and Bianca writhes in my arms, caressing my face, whispering with sweet voice my name, over and over again. Her breasts are so sensitive, I can make her enjoy, stroking her breasts.
I suck at her nipples, rolling them between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. A nectar from the skies, the taste of her skin, Bianca groans louder and louder, writhing desperately.
She is so close, I raise my eyes briefly and her eyes are narrowed, a heady gleam in the iris, the lower lip pressed between the small teeth.
Bianca grabs my shoulder in a hallucinatory grip and wraps her legs around my hips, pushing her breasts so that I get her body. Rubbing my erection in search of relief.
A muffled scream and she enjoys ... Her whole body shaking with the intensity of her orgasm.
Bianca opens her eyes slowly and glares at me, pulling the towel to cover her breasts, my way to paradise, and pushes me, stunned, embarrassed by the pleasure she has just experienced and getting lost.
-Get out of here, why are you messing with me like that? Let me go.
That's not why I came to your room, it was not to get lost in your skin, in your taste. I came to tell her that I would never touch her again, that even if I did not release her, I would be an honourable man, what’s going on with my head?
I leave her room quickly and proceed to my suite, which is next to hers.
I tear off all the clothes and go to the bathroom, to take a very cold shower.
Lovely Concubine Page 3