by Mel Teshco
She stiffened. Mahr was the bride price that was promised before marriage. “I’m not marrying for your gold.”
He cocked a brow. “Gold is what will gain your father’s approval of our marriage. Gold is also what will fund soldiers at Yhemen’s borders.”
Her breath hissed out, but she wouldn’t dare hope he was telling the truth. “You’d really fight against the insurgents?”
He nodded, expression solemn. “If all else fails, then yes. Your people will soon be my people.” He stared at her for a moment longer, his eyes assessing, considering. “But enough talk now, you must be exhausted. I will leave you to rest. In the morning, I will send someone to help prepare you for our wedding.”
A shudder went through her. Yearning? Denial? Excitement? She couldn’t put a finger on exactly what she felt right then and didn’t want to think too much on it. She had enough on her plate. “So soon?”
“The sooner we unite, the sooner we make a stand against the rebels.” His eyes flashed as he added huskily, “And the sooner I can enjoy the spoils of victory.”
***
Amber’s mouth hurt with the fake smile she’d pasted on her face throughout the ceremony, particularly with the Grand Vizier’s eagle eyes on her assessing her every reaction. She wondered what the Grand Vizier thought when he’d seen the exorbitant mahr that’d been clearly written on the marriage contract.
She’d barely been able to take in the princely sum. The whole room had swum around her and her belly had tightened almost painfully. But then she’d taken a deep breath and reined in her composure while two older witnesses signed the contract.
Her father hadn’t arrived and she had no way of knowing if he still disapproved of the wedding or if the fighting with the insurgents had escalated and he’d been unable to attend.
The dull ache in her chest intensified. She and her father were close and his approval meant everything to her. But although she still had doubts and fears, the longer she spent with Zafar the more she questioned those reservations.
Her people counted on her to make this marriage work, and that meant more to her than any chemistry she had with the Czuden sheikh.
Even a broken heart?
She ignored the snide voice. She couldn’t dwell on the fact a big part of her wanted to be with him. Except the curl of her lips was no longer forced when Zafar led her away from the small mosque packed with his soldiers, plus a few personal friends and the Grand Vizier who’d been helicoptered over as witnesses.
Zafar’s brothers hadn’t arrived either, but Zafar didn’t seem concerned, if anything he seemed to expect their absence. Had the unrest extended beyond her country and into their provinces? If so her father wouldn’t be the only sheikh busy protecting his people.
The palace was eerily quiet when Zafar walked with her to his bedroom. She shivered suddenly, and he glanced at her and asked, “Everything okay?”
She looked down at her white lacy wedding dress that covered her from head-to-toe and yet somehow made her feel lush and beautiful. It might have western influence but it was modest enough for even the most traditional Arab male in attendance. “I can’t quite take in the fact I’m your bride…Sheikha of Czuden.”
He stopped at his bedroom door then turned to her fully, his eyes a dark contrast to his white ghutra headwear. “My people will love you.”
She bit into her bottom lip, and then acknowledged, “I’m certain my people will love you too.”
“Then we have nothing to fear.” Need glinted in his eyes. “For now let’s forget about everything but each other,” he bent and swept her into his arms, “and allow me to carry my bride over the threshold.”
“How very western of you,” she said with a breathless little laugh. She’d be lying to pretend his romantic gesture, not to mention his strength and ardor, didn’t send a delicious little thrill through her.
He kicked the door shut and strode to the huge four-poster bed. Laying her on the mattress, he followed her down, kissing her gently while he unpinned the hijab bridal veil, unwound it, then tossed it aside. “I’ve waited too long to uncover your gorgeous, wild hair.”
Her pulse thudded at the exquisite care he took in unwrapping her, like she was a present he’d waited for all his life. “Really?” she breathed.
He nodded. “Beautiful though you look in your bridal finery, I never want your hair covered again, not unless official duties decree otherwise.”
He didn’t want to suppress her. Something shifted within. Or perhaps it was her iron-will that was softening like butter. She squeezed her eyes shut for just a moment. If he wanted a malleable wife, he was doing everything right in getting one.
He kissed her again and she lost herself to his hard and yet sensual lips, lost herself to the powerful man who was now her husband. His tongue pushed between the seam of her lips and she opened her mouth to his mastery, sighing as he dipped deep to taste and sample her.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, kissing her jawline and down her throat, before she arched her back and allowed him to unbutton the pearls holding the lacy white dress together at the back.
His eyes blazed when he unhooked the corset beneath her dress. “Amber, you are exquisite.”
Pride filled her at knowing he appreciated her naked form, despite the fact her feminine softness had become hard from her rigorous life as a soldier. “Thank you,” she said softly.
She reached up to take off his ghutra headwear, loving the texture of his thick hair through her fingers, and the way her touch made his pulse flicker in his jaw, his eyes darken.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he rasped.
She smiled, and slipped one of her hands low to caress the bulge of his cock under his thobe. “I have a fair idea.”
His breath hissed, his whole body poised above her. “You keep touching me like that and I’ll explode before I even get between your thighs.”
Her whole body tingled knowing she had such an effect on him. She was no seductress, but in that moment she felt like one. Every shared breath and touch of skin on skin made her edge closer to the nirvana she knew he’d take her.
He tugged her wedding dress off and his eyes darkened as he took his fill of her breasts. His big hands cupped the creamy mounds before he bent his head and leisurely sucked each of her nipples, awakening nerve endings and making her whimper with need even while wanting so much more.
She exhaled a ragged breath when his head lifted, leaving her feeling bereft. But then he hooked his thumbs in her barely-there panties and dragged them down her thighs.
She swallowed hard as his stare all but burned her naked flesh, her waxed and plucked pussy with its thin strip of hair down the middle. “What are you doing to me?” he asked harshly.
She didn’t answer, she couldn’t, not when she was too busy trying to stay level-headed herself.
She started when he brushed a thumb along the puckered scar along her ribcage, his eyes burning with intensity.
“An insurgent did this?” he asked softly, his voice somehow even more dangerous and throbbing with a need for vengeance.
She blinked up at him, her mouth dry and her pulse leaping. “Yes. My father shot him before he had a chance to push the blade deeper.”
He bent his head, kissing her scar with a reverence that melted a piece of her heart even as her flesh danced and heated under his lips.
He lifted his head and murmured hoarsely, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”
Before she had a chance to refute the logic of his statement, he turned away to take off his thobe, distracting her with his corded back muscles that shifted and flexed. He turned back, his rippling six-pack making her eyes widen. He definitely wasn’t a fat sheikh who sat on his ass feeding his face and shouting out commands. His muscular body revealed Zafar was a man of action, a man who led his people by example.
She dropped her stare lower as he moved back over her. Her breath caught in her throat. His cock was long and thick,
and straining for action. Her eyes widened further and she stifled a gasp, her whole body tensing.
Holy shit, he wouldn’t fit inside her, there was no way!
But though he was harder than steel, he didn’t force himself into her. Instead he used a hand to open her labia and massage her clit, gently at first, then harder and more forcefully when her body flushed with tingling warmth and she sighed, her thighs spreading wider.
He kissed her when her first climax shuddered through her in a wave of heat. His mouth didn’t leaving hers once as his deft hand brought on yet another orgasm that made her toes curl and her pulse tremble.
She couldn’t have been any wetter when he finally broke the kiss and aligned his cock to her center. His eyes burned into hers. “You’re ready for me now, little dove.”
He could’ve been talking to her underwater for all the sense his words made while pleasure slowly ebbed away. But when she registered the press of his cockhead at her entrance, and stiffened, it was far too late.
He plunged deep, muffling her shocked gasp with another kiss that had her draw in his oxygen with quiet desperation. His entry burned, her unfamiliar inner muscles cramping with pain.
His head reared back. “So I am your first,” he rasped.
Chapter Six
“Did you doubt I was a virgin?” she asked faintly.
His tight jaw revealed his need to fuck, not talk. But he didn’t move, not even a millimeter when he said, “You’ve been westernized and living life as a soldier. I wasn’t entirely sure.”
She shifted a little, and gasped at the burning friction. “Well I have no doubt you’d be too big even if I’d slept with a dozen men.”
His breath hissed, his eyes glazing at her movement. “Don’t move, at least not until you…adjust.”
He seriously thought she’d adjust? His damn cock was breaking her in half!
But within seconds there really was less tightness. Zafar moved just a little, rocking in and out slowly, gently, and though at first there was discomfort, there was something incredibly right about their joining. An ache that soon became pleasant and then built in intensity as his rhythm increased, the friction no longer hurting.
Her whole body began to pulsate with arousal, a powerful yet unfamiliar sensation that left her panting and mewling for more. He bent his head and once again sucked her nipple into his mouth. Primal electricity fluttered. She moaned and he sucked harder, his tongue swirling her nipple before giving it little flicks.
“Zafar,” she groaned, even as she instinctively clamped her legs around his hips, holding on as his strokes became longer, deeper. Without breaking rhythm, he released her breast and clasped one of her thighs, pushing it high.
The change of position caused his cock to hit a sensitive spot. She stiffened, a scream bursting free at the high-voltage shockwave that for a second fractured her sanity and threw her straight into intense orgasm.
As her inner muscles contracted, Zafar thrust one more time, his guttural groan seemingly torn from his throat as his warm seed flooded inside her.
Amber blinked, and though she and Zafar were still connected, reality slowly returned. She released a shuddering sigh. Before war had reduced Yhemen to sticks and stones, she recalled hushed conversations with girlfriends who’d heard sex was painful and horrible, and nothing more than a woman’s duty to please her husband.
It was probably her western side that saw her not only enjoy sex, but embrace it with everything she had.
Or maybe Zafar knows exactly what he’s doing?
It felt nothing short of a crime when he carefully disengaged and took his weight away. But then he immediately turned on his side and faced her, tugging her close to kiss her with a possessiveness that left her even more dazed and overcome.
She’d never in her life experienced anything so magical. That it was with a man she’d once hated was an even bigger hit to her emotions.
“Talk to me,” he said huskily. “You look…shell-shocked.”
She managed a smile as she stared into his brilliant, dark eyes. Flickering candlelight brought out the golden glints in his stare, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to bask in his admiration and tenderness. “I don’t know what to say,” she conceded softly.
“Get used to it, little dove. Next time there will be no hurt and you will enjoy it so much more.”
“Is that even possible?”
A grin showcased his delight. “Very possible.” He brushed the tip of her nose. “In fact I look forward to proving it to you.” His grin died. “It will have to wait until tonight though. We have the walima to attend in a few hours.”
The marriage banquet. Of course. Disappointment crashed low in her belly. She’d been so lost in a haze of pleasure that she’d forgotten about everything else, including her new role as Sheikha of Czuden.
He kissed her again, a tender touch of lips that caused her belly to flutter and heat to rekindle in her womb. “I’ll leave you to rest now, beautiful wife. I need to discuss some important matters with my Grand Vizier.”
“You’re leaving me now?” she asked, stupidly horrified at the idea.
“Just until the walima.” His lips twitched, satisfaction stamped across his features. “Then we spend the rest of the night together before our honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon?” she echoed faintly.
He dressed, and she drank in the sight of his corded back muscles and wide shoulders before his thobe fell into place and covered all his masculine glory. He nodded. “Yes, little dove. A honeymoon is still customary after marriage.”
He adjusted his ghutra headwear before he bent and bestowed her with one last, lingering kiss to her mouth. “Enjoy your rest. When it’s time, I’ll send a servant to attend you.”
She reclined back on the bed, her limbs heavy and her eyelids heavier. “I do feel rather tired,” she admitted.
He nodded, looking every inch the proud and arrogant sheikh. “Great sex will do that.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed even as she murmured, “Husam the sword. I get it now.”
***
Amber woke to someone shaking her lightly. She opened groggy eyes, but alertness zapped through her like a lightning strike when she saw who stood before her. “Daddy, what are you doing here?” she gasped, wrapping a sheet around her.
No man was allowed in her room except for her husband. Her father had clearly snuck inside without anyone realizing. Despite the fact he was a sheikh himself, her father could be severely punished for breaking a Qutum law.
His nut-brown eyes looked almost lost in his deeply tanned, wrinkled face. “Sheikh Zafar asked me here to attend the ceremony. Unfortunately I arrived too late to put a stop to it.”
Her lips curled into a little smile. “If you’re worried about me being the wife of a sheikh, then don’t be. Zafar has many western ways himself, and isn’t about to cover me up in a burka and lock me up in his palace.”
Her father shook his craggy head. “Amber listen to yourself. How well do you know Zafar? I mean really know him?”
She stared at her father, even as her belly sank like a stone at his warning, her joyous mood evaporating. “What’s going on, Dad?”
He shook his head, for a moment looking as if defeat sat heavy on his shoulders. “Your marriage has already been consummated, I can’t reverse that now.”
She frowned. “I know this is a lot to take in, but Zafar isn’t the man you think he is—“
She didn’t have time to dwell on the fact she’d just repeated Lamar’s exact same words from yesterday. Not when her beloved father burst out, “He’s been helping the insurgents!”
She gaped, pressing a hand to her heart. “No. You’re mistaken.”
It simply wasn’t possible her husband had lied to her and was in league with her enemies…was it? He’d said he’d fight the insurgents, not fight alongside them!
Her father glowered, his patience clearly worn thin. “Amber listen to yourself. You’ve known him all
of two days and already he’s brainwashed you into believing he’s a saint.”
Her heart stuttered, any lingering happiness disappearing under the weight of her father’s direct stare as he added, “My people have seen him with the insurgents. Rumor has it he’s also been practicing with them to fight against us!”
“It can’t be true,” she whispered, but the pain tearing through her let her know Zafar’s betrayal was all too real.
“I wish I could say it wasn’t, but I can’t. He’s a seasoned soldier; he and his brothers have fought together in the past, and I have no doubt they will fight together again—on whose side I can’t say for sure.”
Her hand moved to her mouth. How much did she really know much about her husband? Not enough, obviously, to even have these doubts.
Her father’s glittering eyes sharpened as they traveled over her body that she’d wrapped in a sheet. “With any luck he hasn’t planted a child in you.” He glanced back at the door behind him and motioned someone inside. “I’ve already planned our escape. But we must go now before anyone realizes you’ve gone.”
Amber turned dull eyes to the servant who’d once served her in Yhemen before war had broken out. Nada. The poor girl looked terrified and who could blame her? If they were caught leaving without Zafar’s permission, by law he could exact his revenge in the most despicable ways imaginable.
Her father put a reassuring hand on her arm. “I asked Nada to bring some clothes with us from Yhemen. The niqab and hijab will effectively conceal you.”
She looked at the head covering with distaste. Even before war had given her the freedom of a soldier, she’d favored western garments.
Except if what her father said was true, Zafar was a friend of the insurgents, which made him her enemy now. Her lips twisted. He’d fooled her into believing he’d cared about her, but he cared nothing for her or her people. Quite the opposite.
She’d do anything needed now to leave Zafar. Disguising herself in the niqab and hijab for a few hours would be nothing in comparison to living with her husband’s lies and deceit.