Nahan pulled out the chair for me to sit on, and I was delighted with the decorations on our table: an antique silver candlestick, the rose petals on the fine Moroccan brocade towel gave a touch of exoticism and elegance to the whole environment. The waiter asked about our order and I refused the wine, accepting a pomegranate juice. Nahan drank a glass of wine and a varied and typically Moroccan menu was served: Moroccan chicken, lamb roasted in the tajine, vegetable couscous. Nahan watched my appetite smiling and then remarked,
-I like it when I see you feed properly, try the pastilla, it's a dessert of puff pastry, vanilla cream and pistachio, it's delicious.
One band played traditional Moroccan music on the ground floor and two belly dancers climbed up to the terrace to make a special presentation for us.
After the performance of the dancers, a small part of the band went up to the terrace and presented us with some songs, Nahan held out my hand and I accepted in disgust.
-I do not know how to dance, my love.
He encircled my waist and I leaned back against his chest.
-Me neither, let's learn together.
What can’t this man not do? I discovered that Nahan lied about dancing as he led me through the hall. His safe steps, the way he led me to follow his movements, he is a great dancer. Forgetting everything around us, I let myself be carried by the firm arms of my man, my male, enjoying the subtle movements of our bonded bodies, connected in the same tuning, the sound of music enveloping our senses and the rhythm of our hearts beating at the same pace.
Our last night in Morocco was magical, just like this land full of charms.
When we got to our room we made love slowly and deliciously, playing with the awakening of pleasure in our bodies delivered to each other.
I slept spooned with Nahan, his warm and protective hand resting on my belly, stroking it gently, as if by an inexplicable instinct I welcomed and thanked the heavens for their seed rooted in me ... Having as witness of our night of love, the light of the starry sky of Morocco, invading our window and kissing our bare skins.
CHAPTER 23
BIANCA
After the magical days in Morocco, we return to our reality in Bahrain. I talked to Nahan about my future plans, and he thought it was good that I had an interest in learning about the Bahraini culture and wanting to collaborate with the revitalization project of the Bahrain National Museum in Manama.
-That's great, Bianca, you continue to research in your area and work as a museum collaborator, I found the wonderful idea.
Tonight, is the masked ball at Mohamed and Sofia’s house, I confess it's not a party I wanted to be present at, but he's Nahan’s Prime Minister and it would be an offense to miss this event.
Nahan, in the afternoon, ordered a new dress, shoes, and a black mask with black and blue peacock feathers, to be brought to the palace. The long, steamy dress, with the bust draped and handcrafted embroidered perfectly with the mask.
Thura, my fairy godmother, as always, she helped me clean up. Looking at me with only my panties and bra on, Thura pinned me to the stake of truth, telling me:
- Nahan really is very distracted, I do not know how he has not yet realized that your body is different.
Ah! God, no, not this subject, please don’t!!!
I pulled the gown from Thura's hands and placed it in front of me, hiding my body, without the courage to look into her eyes.
- Different? No. Your impression, Thura.
Thura took the dress from my hands, uncovering my belly that is subtly swollen.
-Do I look like Nahan, to believe in your silly little lies, Bianca?
I shook my head, staring at my feet, Thura lifted my face, and my eyes watered in seconds.
- Until the end of this week you go with me to the doctor, just to confirm what we both already know, okay Bianca?
I interrupted her:
- Thura, please ...
She raised her hand and stopped me from speaking.
- Shhh, okay, I already know, by then I will not say anything to Nahan, now we will make you even more beautiful than you already are Malika (queen) Bianca.
I dressed and Thura helped me pick out the right jewels and straighten my hair, curling it at the ends.
When we finished, I looked at the result of my production in the mirror and I really looked beautiful: the silky, velvety skin, the dark shadow highlighting the blue of my eyes, the cheekbones with a healthy tan touch, the inviting lips with the peach-coloured gloss.
I descended the stairs and found Nahan waiting for me in the foyer, utterly seductive in a tuxedo that is hugging his squat shapes perfectly. Before going down the last step, I stare at him with the feeling that I will never get used to the effect that his devastating gaze has on my body, my emotions.
Nahan curves his lips subtly into a crooked smile to break the spine and I return the smile, resting my hand on his.
-You look beautiful, Bianca.
I looked at him from top to bottom and provoked him:
-And you're not bad at all, Nahan.
As we descended the stairs to the entrance of the palace, I was surprised by the sight I had: only four cars accompanying us? Thank God, Nahan little by little seems to be more relaxed, he was not impatient anymore.
I looked at him and smiled, guessing what I was thinking, he smiled, opening the door of one of the cars.
-I know what you're thinking, well Madame Bianca ... I know you do not like all these people around us, Jafar has reduced the number of security guards, is that better?
I nodded and kissed his cheek, teasing him.
-I could not wait to get out without the whole parade, it’s much better.
We arrived at Mohamed and Sophia’s house and I could expect nothing less from Mohamed’s house, than an ostentatious and nababesque mansion. Huge walls hid an immense estate, palm trees lined a long way to a huge terracotta house with tall columns in Moorish style, the car circled to the side and we descended in a vast and very well-kept garden.
About five hundred yards away, a huge tent was set, ornamented with lace fabric. A dance floor and a large, illuminated stage were beautifully decorated, some amber lamps dangling from the ceiling giving an exotic air to the ambiance. Sophia came toward us wearing a silver mask and a long black costume and greeted us:
-Good evening, King Nahan, Bianca, it is my great pleasure to welcome you to my house.
We greeted each other with a handshake and Mohamed approached us, greeted us also, formally and politely, as one expects from his ever-controlled figure.
-Nahan, Bianca, thank you for coming to our ball, I know Nahan does not like this kind of event very much, but I hope you will enjoy. Follow me to our table.
When we arrived at Mohamed’s table, Rosa and Sayd welcomed us with joy, introducing me to an elegant couple, the woman was about sixty years old and the man appeared to be a little older, both greeted me and Nahan very nice, and the woman gave me two little kisses, surprising me.
-Nahan, Sophia had already told me that your bride was beautiful, but I did not know how beautiful, my pleasure, Raja Hayek.
The man smiled at Nahan, tapping on his shoulder.
-Beautiful choice, Nahan.
- Nice to meet you, Bianca Mattos.
-It's all my pleasure, Imad Hayek.
Then Nahan explained to me that Imad is an Egyptian diplomat and his wife Raja is a historian. Nahan told him that I had graduated in Archaeology and our objects of study yielded a fun and unpretentious conversation.
I was thanking God for Raja to be by my side, because superficiality of Sofia's dialogue becomes annoying. There so much eye rolling because of the servants who do not know how to behave or because of the new collection of dresses of Zuhair Murad, she is so cold, she might catch a flu.
Raja asked me how I met Nahan and suddenly the attention of Sophia and Rosa turned to me. I smiled sheepishly, searching for the best words, and when Nahan intended to answer, I interrupted him by saying,
-You can let me tell them about it, my love.
Nahan smiled, but the blink on his eyes betrayed his nervousness. I told Raja, surprising the two fake figures that stood in front of me, because obviously they both knew the way I arrived to Manama, but neither of them had the rudeness to deny what I said.
- I came to do a cultural exchange, we met in a coffee shop in the city.
Although my words were the purest lie, Nahan completed kissing the palm of my hand with genuine affection.
-And I fell in love as soon as I saw her, I could not resist, I had to conquer this woman.
Raja took her husband's arm, smiling at him.
-See Imad, they make such a lovely couple, don’ they? It reminds us of when we were young.
Imad nodded, admiring her with tenderness.
-It's sweet, look at us, take care of that precious thing, Nahan, women like ours only enrich a man's life.
Mohamed spoke with Nahan:
- Nahan, Ibrahim would like to speak to us quickly, he said he has some great ideas about Al Malikiyah's increased oil distribution.
Nahan asked us to leave and left the table, accompanied by Mohamed.
Sophia looked at me with a false sympathy, just like a treacherous serpent about to take the boat and seizing the opportunity by having me alone, she leaned over me, speaking in a low voice that only I heard:
-You're a pretty, young woman, smart, but a sweet, fragile girl, I'm very worried about how you might suffer when Nahan has to take a second wife. After all, we know that as much as he says he will not yield to the will of the people, the fact is that the people of Bahrain will never accept a foreign queen, he will eventually have to marry a woman of our land. That's what I'm really afraid of, honey! You western women are not used to our culture, he might hurt your little heart Bianca.
The false pout that Sophie made when she said little heart gave me an enormous desire to forget that I was in her house and make her swallow it with her teeth at punching her in the middle of her false mouth.
I nodded in the same humorous way she teased me.
-You do not have to worry so much about me, my dear! My life with Nahan is all under control. Nahan is a fantastic ruler, I know he will be able to solve all this, I trust him very much, Sofia. Neither the people nor a second wife ... Nothing, no one is going to ruin our relationship, to be with my man, I know how to be as firm as a rock, do not doubt that, my dear.
Sophia's eyes widened in surprise at my sudden daring, then gave me a false smile, adding,
- I was only worried about you, since I met you, I sympathized with you, even Sapphira being my Mohamed’s cousin, I am sure I never rooted for her in this story.
-I can imagine, thank you for your concern, but Nahan and I are fine, as you say, thanks to Allah.
But since this ball seemed to be a night of temptation, I barely finished speaking to Sophia, when I saw that snake, Sapphira gliding around the room, with her usual arrogant air, looking at everyone from above, as if everyone around her were mere insects.
I disguise myself and look away, but when I look at her again, she does not take her eyes off mine, coming toward our table.
Lean, tall, wearing a long vaporous in fuchsia color, sharply expensive and perfect for her perfect shapes too.
And I had to breathe deeply and find self-confidence from the top of my five feet, so as not to succumb to the power of this rattle snake. I lifted my chin to look at her too and she smiled at all the women at the table, staring at me.
-How are you all?
I looked up quickly, without giving her a chance to start a conversation with me. Nahan approached and sat down beside me, greeting Sapphira with a nod. He frowned at her, and under the table, his fingers folded in mine, as if he wanted to tell me that I did not have to be insecure in the presence of this unfortunate woman. She smiled at him and provoked him:
-I had so much fun at that dinner, Nahan, I had a damaging migraine after the wine we drank.
Nahan narrowed his eyes and countered what Sapphira said, speaking in a low but biting tone.
-For I have not had any fun, Sapphira, don’t want me to be unpleasant, from the day you came into my house to poison my bride, for you I am King Nahan, do not force an intimacy that we do not have, Sapphira.
I could almost smile, just did not smile because I was surprised by Nahan's harsh response as much as Sapphira. She greeted us with a nod and walked away, probably trying to collect the shards of her pride that fell crashed, to the ground.
JAFAR ABDUL
I circled this infernal, uncomfortable party in this tuxedo that seems to suffocate me, ah! I hate so much to be here that I find myself talking to myself, telling myself what are the reasons for me to love comfortable clothes, bare feet, I just love to be barefoot ... Breathe relieved, no tie, I wanted to find out who was the blessed, who invented the tie, dispense the underwear and be able to leave my friend free and loose, Wow! Just thinking about the joy that I will feel when I tear this out of my skin, it makes me endure a few more hours in this martyrdom.
And speaking of martyrdom, I'm taking a clean air in the garden, when I feel her warmth, before her presence, why Allah I need to be tried that way, it's been almost a month since I've seen her and it seems centuries have passed, her smell of tangerine and vanilla invades my personal space and I turn already imagining what awaits me.
But as much as I have prepared myself all week to stare at her indifferently, her soft voice alerts me and my control succumbs at seeing her face to face.
Stunning, with a dress that further dignifies her softly feminine forms.
- Hi, Jafar.
- Sapphira.
She smiled, but her gaze was sad, I decided not to ask the reason, I have nothing to do with it, to protect her, ceased to be my commitment from the moment she refused me by designing that ridiculous plan to approach Nahan.
-I thought you would not come to the ball, you dislike a suit.
I didn’t resist and smiled ... Hell! She knows me like nobody else, I respond her, too, by teasing her.
-Your time as a spoiled little girl has passed too, I bet you are here just to accompany your father, you'd give everything for a bottle of red wine ...
She and I completed my thinking, talking together.
- ... and nothing but comfortable socks, a T-shirt and a thriller.
We stopped talking and stared at each other, her eyes without straying from mine, the orchestra began to play, “The time goes by”, knowing I was not right, yet I brought her soft body next to mine, she held my shoulders and she closed her eyes, resting her head on my chest. One song, then another and another, our bodies glued together, moving in the rhythm of the melody, in the perfect cadence of our hearts. Sapphira lifted her face, and our eyes met again. Her mouth took mine with desire, the taste of her lips invading my system, teasing me, pushing me right in the abyss. I growled in frustration and this feeling made me deepen our kisses even more, until we were out of breath, still staring at each other, I asked her in a voice strangled by anger:
-Why do you insist on being the woman your father wants you to be, you don’t love Nahan, you and I know very well what we have, why you continue to pretend that you can resist, why you humiliated me that way by architecting that Ridiculous plan to trap Nahan. Do you know what you are, Sapphira? A whore.
She looked at me and the light from the lamps reflected the tear of her lifeless iris, taken by a misfortune that frightened me. Sapphira nodded, agreeing to my curse.
- Yes, a whore Jafar, I'm just a whore that gets told by everyone what to do and how to live, you're right, a whore ...
I buried my fingers in her soft hair and brought her mouth to mine aggressively, rudely. I pulled her under a tree and slung my hips between her legs, cursing her with the most abominable names as if uttering a mantra.
- Bitch, slut ...
Sapphira kissed me furiously, her lips trembling with tears, the salty taste of her tears mingling with our s
aliva, proving to me that such was our love: salty, bitter, but the sweetness, the honey of desire that binds us is much greater than the pungent taste of hatred we sometimes feel for each other.
Sapphira babbled softly, lifting up the hem of her dress and rubbing herself, revealing a tiny white brief that barely covered her small pussy.
- Ordinary, bitch.
Sapphira tried to wrap my penis in her hands and I walked away, shaking my head, not today, today will be my way, whatever way I want, and I want to punish her, to hurt her, to make her suffer, for not surrendering, not wanting me, for making me love her for so many years in the shadow, in the dark, unable to reveal myself to anyone.
I slipped her panties down her hips and, still seized with rage, humiliated by succumbing to desire, to her love that poisons me like a curse, I ripped off my tie and groaned nibbling at her ear.
-Give me your fists, Sapphira, today I'll fuck you the way I want to, or you can walk away from here.
Sapphira went down on one knee and then the other, kneeling in front of me, holding out her fists for me to bind them.
I tucked her fists into my black tie, into a firm knot, unzipped my pants, and released my cock, brushing it wet with pre-semen and throbbing between her lips. Sapphira opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, pink, damp. I gasped, trying to disguise my lack of control, getting closer and closer. I pushed the cock into her mouth and she took it first softly, then opening her mouth and taking me whole. Sucking harder and deeper, Sapphira sucked and licked me willingly, tears streaming down her cheeks. I lifted her off the floor, kissing her hair, her mouth, her eyes.
-Shh, not Sapphira, don’t cry.
-Please, Jafar, stay with me, if only for tonight.
No, not tonight, it's not enough, it's too little for both of us, I want this woman every day, the nights, the spring bloom, the winter chill, the fall leaves, I want her for me, I need Sapphira, always, without Nahan, without her father around us, just her, me and no one else.
With one hand, I held Sapphira's wrists above her head, she lifted her legs and I held her thigh, penetrating her deep and strong. Her hot, tight pussy engulfed my cock, sucking it into herself and I banged my hips on her, one, two, three, fidgeting between her legs, my paradise, so many, many times until we got lost in an insane, desperate trance seeking our pleasure together. She squeezed her trembling lips onto mine and her pussy milked my sex, squeezing me so hard as I found my pleasure, that I could feel as if her gut pulled out the last drop of sperm from my body.
Lovely Concubine Page 20