A Thorned Rose in the Sand

by Lea Bronsen

  He groaned, pulled her hand away. “Okay, enough, or I’ll make a mess.”

  “Why don’t you make a mess inside me?”

  That drew a white-toothed grin from him. “Baby, I’m so tired I can’t think straight. I didn’t sleep last night.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Let’s have a nap, then. I don’t want to do anything rash. Later, I’ll take you to a nice place that serves the best food in all of Morocco. We’ll eat, we’ll talk—”

  “And we’ll come back here and make love. Sounds good to me.”

  He gave a throaty laugh. “Sleep, my wild one.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ragab smiled but didn’t say much as he watched Stevie opposite a small table enjoy dish after dish of succulent Moroccan cuisine. She looked ravishing in a green tile-print dress that complemented her equally mouth-watering feminine figure and attracted glances from all corners of the flowery decorated restaurant.

  She licked her fingers in a not-too-womanly manner, had a sip of red wine, and sat back against her chair with a satisfied sigh and a grin stretching ear to ear. Candlelight flickered in her dark green eyes.

  Minutes ago, he’d made her laugh as he explained why Arabs used their right hand to eat, and he relished that happy moment with her, wanted it to last. He had purposely walked her through the festive town center and brought her to this fine restaurant—though he couldn’t really afford it—because he wanted her to come back to Morocco for more than him.

  What would happen to them, otherwise? Regardless of his charm offensive and of how much she insisted she loved his family, their culture, and the country, she was going to leave in a couple days. Fact.

  His chest ached. He couldn’t breathe. He’d fallen for her too hard. That was why he’d refused to sleep with her earlier: He’d given her a little pleasure, but wouldn’t be more intimate for fear they’d never see each other again.

  She tilted her head and frowned. “What’s up, Doc? We’re having such a great time, but you look like you’ve choked on something. Is it my table manners?”

  He sighed, didn’t know how to explain. She liked him, yes, but it was a naïve infatuation, and she was too young to see it. Once home in the U.S., she would settle into her old routines again, then crush on an American and build her future over there.

  Growing sadder by the second, he crossed his arms and rested his gaze on the half-empty bowls of couscous semolina, zaalouk salad, and harira soup between them. “I’m just anticipating things,” he said with another heavy sigh. “I don’t want you to go home and not come back, but that’s what’s going to happen.”

  Her eyes glittered like the purest emeralds. “Oh, I’m coming back. No worries about that. I can’t give you the exact date, but it’s a promise.”

  He shook his head, wanted to believe her but couldn’t. She was too naïve, didn’t have his wisdom. “I’m afraid this will pass. We only met two days ago.”

  “Ragab, I’ve never met a man like you and never will again.”

  “There aren’t many nomads in the Californian desert, huh,” he half joked.

  “That’s not where I intend to end my days anyway. I’m happy here. I want to be with you,” she stressed, adamant.

  “But have you thought about the practicalities? We live on each our separate continent in opposite parts of the world. How do you want anything to work? Traveling costs a fortune.”

  “We can always figure out something. Life is made of possibilities. I don’t see obstacles. I see challenges.”

  Boom, talk about wisdom.

  She flashed him a self-confident smile, like the deal was done.

  He smiled back at her vehemence, but his throat tightened. Being lovers from different worlds wasn’t as easy as she thought, plus he’d been lonely for so long, he wouldn’t handle a romantic disappointment well.

  She pushed the bowls and wineglasses aside, leaned across the table, and took his hands in hers. “Honey, I love it here. I love the people, the culture, the land… I feel at home. And it’s a fantastic place for a biker. Why would I absolutely want to live in the U.S.? What holds me back there? My father and brothers? I love them, of course, but it doesn’t mean I can’t live away from them. Sooner or later, I’m bound to move out and build my own life somewhere else. As for my job…” She shook her head. “I’m sick of a rat race that doesn’t make any sense.”

  He swallowed to push down the emotion lodged in his throat. “Are you saying you’re willing to come back here and actually stay?”

  Her smile radiated kindness and warmth. “You and I have potential, and we can’t explore it if we don’t spend time together. Either in your tent or here in town. Or both places.”

  Wow. Her words were almost shocking, too good to be true. But the mix of hurt and fear continued to constrict his throat.

  She toyed with his fingers. “Would you… When I come back, would you consider working in town now and then? You could open a clinic and make some money. I’m not saying you spend the whole week here, but one or two days. I’ve heard most Bedouins own an apartment nowadays, so they draw the best from both worlds.”

  Both worlds…

  On the way to the restaurant, they’d strolled in the streets hand in hand and watched animated dances and processions, and he’d found he enjoyed the town center despite the noise, the crowd. He hadn’t missed the peace and quiet of the desert. Why? Because of her. She lit up his life.

  He saw it now: With Stevie by his side, he would be happy anywhere and appreciate anything. For too long, he’d suppressed a need for a more social life and convinced himself he was satisfied. Well, there was nothing wrong about liking both his parents’ traditional way of living and the life of a modern doctor in town. Besides, Erfoud may be lively during the three-day festival, but the rest of the year, it slept.

  The waiter, a mustached man in a white shirt and black slacks, came to their table and collected the bowls. “Would you like some dessert? We have m’hanncha pastry, milk bastilla, cinnamon oranges…”

  Stevie clapped her hands, ecstatic. “Ooooh, cinnamon oranges!”

  The waiter nodded. “Excellent choice.”

  Ragab asked, “Do you have chocolate mousse?”

  “Of course.” The man bowed.

  “Thank you.” After he left, Ragab told Stevie, “I don’t see why I couldn’t invest in a small apartment and live both places. I just feel responsible for my family out there, you know. I’m the big brother.”

  “Your father’s there.”

  “But he’s old.”

  “Ali will soon be big enough to take care of the animals. I’m sure he’d love the responsibility.”

  “Yes…”

  She frowned, as though a dark idea descended upon her, and sat back on her chair to cross her arms under her full breasts. “But he should go to school. Your sisters, too. All children deserve an education.”

  He tore his gaze from her breasts, which bulged so nicely in her dress. “Yes, and we have both normal schools and non-governmental boarding schools, but the problem is the distance. I’ve heard of children traveling three hours each way, each day, to get to school. It isn’t simple.”

  Her brows furrowed deeper. “It isn’t simple if we choose to see it that way. But we can choose to turn it around. Have you thought about home-schooling?”

  “You need teachers willing to travel that far.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you about something I’ve been pondering since I came to Erfoud. I’m going to compete for a particular cause from now on. If I win, I donate the money to an organization taking care of street children. I’ve seen too many of them here. They have nothing. But there aren’t many competitions in a year, and I like this home-schooling idea. So, what if the rest of the time, I travel from village to village—by motorbike—and give children English lessons, for example?”

  He gaped. “Are you serious? Would you do that?”

  “Definitely. It’d give me the chance to do something m
eaningful about my life and at the same time practice my favorite sport. And you, Doc, can hire someone to herd the animals while you’re in town.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  “Like I said, if you choose to see things simple,” she took her glass and raised it, “they become simple. And, of course,” she added with wink, “when we’re together, we’ll fuck like crazy.”

  “Ha!” He almost spat his mouthful of wine all over the table. “Ahem, it sounds like you’ve done a lot of thinking.”

  “Thinking is my specialty. By the way,” she turned to the waiter passing another table, “I think we’d like some delicious mint tea with the dessert, raja’?”

  The man smiled and bowed. “Of course.”

  “Choukran.” She flashed that self-confident smile of hers, which could melt the coolest of hearts.

  Ragab stifled a laugh. And to think he’d thought of her as arrogant and impolite when they’d first met! He’d been so wrong to generalize. Not all American women were cheap. And beneath her tough-girl layers, Stevie had an adorable sweetness and care.

  He didn’t wait for the waiter’s response before he stood, circled the table, and lifted the surprised girl into his arms to kiss her. Yes, to kiss her. Fiercely, too, tongue and all.

  He didn’t need to marry someone from his own culture. She would do just fine.

  Chapter Seventeen

  My first kiss!

  And it didn’t stop there, in the restaurant. Every other minute as they walked Usain from the stable toward the El Borouj dunes at the northeastern outskirts of the city, Ragab spun, took her in his arms, and kissed her. And these weren’t just any kisses. They were deep, languorous, tongue-playing, lip-sucking, teeth-clashing, and felt like their mouths melded together. Stevie was so consumed, her mind drifted away, losing all sense of anything but the feel of him, the need for him...

  Actually, she didn’t see why they had to go to the desert. Why couldn’t they stop at their room and continue making out there?

  He didn’t give her the chance to ask. In the middle of a track heading out of town, he held her close, pressing his throbbing hardness against her stomach and his manly chest to her boobs, telling her with every cell of his body, every rapid breath, every groan, how much he wanted her. And she, she turned into a puddle, her pussy wetting and enduring sharp stings—contractions—of arousal, having never had a guy’s cock inside her, yet somehow knowing that was exactly what she yearned for. Her nipples hardened and prickled.

  Just when she thought she was going to suffocate from the kiss, he broke with a gasp and made enough distance for her to see his dark brown, feverish gaze. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said, voice raucous, on a hot breath that brushed her lips.

  She drew a lungful of air, pressing her boobs flatter to his chest, and chuckled. “No kidding. And to think scenes like these are prohibited in public! You could end up in jail.”

  As if on cue, a siren wailed somewhere. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Disconnecting from Ragab, she glanced around. Behind them lay Erfoud, bathed in a reddish light from the setting sun in the west. Ahead, the ridge of a dry riverbed wound northeast along a chain of dark rugged hills on one side and green palm tree plantations on the other.

  The siren diminished and was soon drowned by the town’s cheerful festival music. False alarm.

  Ragab tugged on Usain’s leash. “Let’s ride. There’re still about three kilometers before we get to the dunes.”

  In response, Usain raised its long neck and emitted a “Nuuur!”

  Stevie stepped forward and petted its hairy shoulder. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you.” She was beginning to like the docile animal. It was never going to hurt anyone. “You smell the sand, huh? The freedom. You can’t wait to come home.”

  It turned its strange head with the big-lipped snout and small, round ears to her and stared.

  “I told you, he digs you,” Ragab said with a smile. He took off his blue tunic and turban and hung them across the saddle, looking amazingly handsome in a simple black t-shirt and faded jeans. No more concealing the goodies. The sunset coloring the entire sky accentuated his Arabic features and the tan of his skin, and his long-lashed eyes glowed as if inhabited by a smoldering fire. Stunning.

  He motioned for her to climb up first. “Just for the record, there’ll be no boobie-rubbing against me this time,” he stated, face stern.

  Was he joking? With a brow raised, she slid a foot into the stirrup and hoisted herself.

  Their world turned eerily lunar as Usain climbed the last meters up the ridge. A flat landscape revealed before their eyes, with wavy sand dunes stretching miles and miles and darkening until they blended with the Algerian horizon in the east. Not a sound, no one in sight. Just a faint breeze softly rustling Stevie’s dress.

  Ragab dropped the dromedary’s leash to let it go freely.

  Oh, and he’d been joking about the rubbing, of course. A lot of that had been going on since they left town, and it was he who did it, with his long, hard cock pointing upward in his jeans—he must have rearranged it before sitting behind her—and lodged unashamedly in the crack of her butt.

  What a tease! It definitely helped Stevie accustom to the dromedary’s undulating gait and decide it was a rather nice and quiet means of transport.

  “You’re wicked,” she commented, gazing at the endless ocean of reddish sand ahead in an effort to stay serious. How long did he intend to keep going like this, arousing her so her panties were bound to leave a wet stain on the saddle?

  “Wicked, how?” He slid a hand to her pubic area, went lower between her thighs, and pressed a couple fingers to her pussy, through her clothes.

  He must have found her clit, for sparks of fire shot out. She whimpered from the heat rushing through her. “Jesus, as if I’m not wet enough. Okay, payback.” She pushed his hand away, twisted on the seat, and, before he could stop her, zipped open his pants between them to grab his thick, long erection.

  He sucked in a breath. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he whispered, likely referring to her previous experience.

  Speaking of… She expected memories of her abuser to appear, but none did. She was fully present with Ragab. In the moment, in love, in heat. Gratitude and excitement filled her. “I want to do it,” she said, stroking him, familiarizing with his shape, size, firmness, the velvety feel of his veined skin, and the bulbous hat-shaped head. “I love you. I love your cock.”

  He let out a groan and looked up to the crimson-hued sky. “That… That sounded dirty in your mouth. But you have to stop, or I’m going to explode.”

  Yet she continued stroking up and down his length. He’d made her come earlier. Now she would return the favor. Give and take.

  He arched his back and a growl erupted from his throat, a warm white liquid running out of the slit in his glans and onto her hand. “Ooooh.” He grimaced, as if in pain. “You shouldn’t have. I wanted to save it for you.” A thin coat of sweat covered his olive skin.

  She brought her fingers to her mouth and licked his semen.

  Mmm. Salty, creamy…

  Panting, he stared at her, dark eyes gleaming. “You like it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But it was just a small orgasm. There’s more where that came from.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He snuck a hand into a back pocket and brought out a condom, flashing his teeth in a grin.

  She laughed. “Where the hell did you get that?”

  “You know I’m a doctor, right?” He winked. “That’s the kind of accessories I bring to my talks with the youths of our tribes.”

  “So, you’re going to give me sexual education, too. Since you know I’ve never slept with anyone.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never had a woman either.”

  She blinked, incredulous. “You’re kidding?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I don’t believ
e it. You must’ve had a harem of women fighting over you in London.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been waiting for the right one.”

  The right one! And I am that woman?

  “Now”—he lifted her dress and put his hands under her butt cheeks—“lean forward a bit for me so I can show you how to use this accessory.”

  Thrilled, she moved her knees backward so her legs crossed his, then pointed her very wet and ready ass in the air while holding the metallic handlebar in front of her and leaning over.

  “That’s it.” One of his hands pushed her soaked panties aside and the other disappeared.

  Her arousal rolled down her inner thighs, but she wasn’t ashamed. She was so well lubed, he would have no problem going right in, virgin or not.

  The crack of a foil sounded before a hard head poked at her entrance, slowly gliding back and forth between the lips, from her sizzling clit to her ass.

  Oooh! Such a tease. Her inner muscles contracted and more juices ran out. “Just put it in, dummy,” she commanded, voice rough. “Stop the fucking teasing.”

  “As you wish, baby. I just don’t want to hurt you.” He pushed in a bit, tentatively.

  She didn’t have patience for this. “Screw hurt.” Bracing, she sat down on his lap and forced his entire cock to slide inside to the deepest part of her. It didn’t hurt a bit. On the contrary, an overwhelming sensation of friction and fullness surged through her, the best feeling she’d ever known. “Oh!” she moaned in delight, squeezing her muscles around him. “Jesus.”

  He groaned. “Take it easy. Remember it’s my first time, too. You don’t want me to shoot too fast.”

  “Speaking of fast, why don’t you increase the pace a little!”

  A choked laugh came from behind her. “You’re trying to kill me.” Still, he kicked Usain’s flanks so the big animal moved faster.

  Oh, yes. Usain’s lilting, rolling trot created an amazing rhythm where Ragab’s thrusting in and out of her combined with the rocking movements of his hips underneath intensified the pressure inside. It was almost like being fucked by a machine, with Ragab’s dance-like pumping regular and forceful. Thrust after thrust, the heat in her pussy grew, the tension strengthening until it hurt and burned—and suddenly, she was sent right up there on an edge, balancing, waiting for one last stimulation to help her fly over.