Crowned At The Desert King's Command (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Jackie Ashenden

  Yours.

  He looked into her eyes, watching her as he lifted a hand and brushed her throat with his fingertips, then ran them lightly down the centre of her body, stroking her satiny skin. She shuddered, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch, her breasts and stomach quivering. He didn’t stop, and he didn’t look away as his fingers brushed the soft curls between her thighs and then the slick, hot folds beneath them.

  She gasped, her hips rising to his hand, her eyes going wide. Her pleasure was obvious. The musky, sweet scent of her arousal was like a drug, turning his hunger sharp as knife. But it wasn’t his desire he wanted to sharpen. It was hers. So he parted her gently with his fingers, finding the hard bud that would give her the most pleasure and teasing it lightly. She groaned and jerked, panting.

  ‘Arms above your head,’ he ordered softly. ‘And do not take them down until I say.’

  ‘T-Tariq, I don’t know if I—’

  ‘Trust me, ya amar.’

  She took another shuddering breath, then slowly raised her arms and let them rest on the pillows behind her head. Her gaze was on his, as if he was the centre of the entire universe, and he liked that. Liked the way she trusted him. Liked it far, far too much.

  ‘Yes,’ he murmured, stroking and teasing her. ‘Look at me. Keep looking at me.’

  She shook, gasping as he slid his fingers over her slickness, her hips lifting restlessly. ‘Tariq...’ Her voice was thick and desperate. ‘Oh... I can’t... This—This is...’

  He lowered his head and stopped her words with his mouth, kissing her hard and deep. She groaned, letting him in. The taste of her was the same as it had been in the baths, achingly sweet, and it made him feel wild, made his restraint feel thin and tenuous.

  But he was used to testing himself, so he kissed her harder, letting his fingers find the slick entrance to her body and circling it, tantalising her, before gradually easing inside. She was tight, her body clamping down on his fingers, and the hot, wet heat of her pulled hard on the leash he’d placed on his control.

  She arched beneath him, moaning, her hands gripping onto the pillows above her head and twisting. He took his mouth from hers and kissed down the delicate arch of her neck, tasting the salt in the hollow of her throat, and then further, between her breasts. He covered one nipple with his lips and sucked, teasing it with his tongue as he stroked his fingers in and out of her.

  She called his name, gasping. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her silver hair sticking to her forehead and neck.

  Beautiful. Desperate. His.

  He moved his mouth to her other breast and at the same time pressed his thumb down on that small bud between her thighs, sliding his fingers deep. She cried out, her body stiffening as the climax washed over her.

  Her taste was in his mouth and her scent was all around, the sound of her pleasure loud in his ears.

  And his control hung by a thread.

  He could not wait any longer.

  Pulling his fingers from her body, he knelt between her thighs and slid his hands beneath the shapely curve of her bottom, lifting her, fitting himself to the entrance of her body.

  He put one hand down on the pillow beside her head and leaned over her, looking down into her eyes.

  Then he thrust deep and hard inside her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHARLOTTE GASPED, ARCHING against the deep, firm, relentless push of Tariq inside her. The sensitive tissues of her sex stretched around him, taking him. Then she cried out, shuddering. Because it was overwhelming and strange and yet somehow so good she didn’t have words for it.

  He was stretched out above her, his golden eyes burning down into hers, and for a moment an intense sense of wonder was all there was. Her friends, whenever they’d talked about sex, had mentioned that the first time could be painful, but that it was in the end very pleasurable. But they’d never mentioned this sense of...closeness. Of connection. The intense intimacy of having another person inside you.

  She didn’t feel pain right now, only that sense of connection blazing through her and into him, joining them together in a way that wasn’t possible at any other time, in any other way.

  It wasn’t anything like she’d expected. She’d had a glimpse of it as she’d knelt at his feet, taking him into her mouth, the taste of him rich and salty on her tongue. His expression had been so fierce, and she’d loved the pleasure she’d seen flare in the golden depths of his gaze. But then he’d pulled away, and she’d thought that perhaps she’d done something wrong—until he’d taken her on the bed and put his hands on her. And then she hadn’t thought at all, completely lost as he’d touched her...made the world explode behind her eyes.

  But this was different—this was mutual. Giving to each other.

  He held her gaze—held it so completely that it felt as if he was touching her both inside and out—and then he shifted, gripping her wrists and holding them down on the pillows above her, adjusting himself so he could push even deeper.

  She couldn’t speak—didn’t have the breath...didn’t have the words either. All she could do was look up at him in amazement that this was happening between them, that it could feel like this.

  And it wasn’t frightening. It wasn’t frightening in any way.

  Strange and a little uncomfortable, yes, but not scary.

  He began to move, drawing his hips back and then pushing in again, the slide of him inside her making her gasp. She could feel her body adjustiing to him, and soon it wasn’t uncomfortable or strange as pleasure began to radiate, curling through her. She began to move with him, responding to an instinct that felt as if it had always been there, and it made the light in his eyes blaze brighter.

  He murmured something in his beautiful language, the liquid whisper of sound almost a caress in itself. She wanted to touch him, run her hands all over him, feel the hard strength of his muscles and taste his skin, but the way he was holding her down and the movement of him inside her made that impossible.

  She moaned as the pleasure gathered strength, urging him to move faster, and he did, going deeper, harder, and it was so good. So very, very good that even the thought of how afraid she’d been of this was impossible to imagine.

  This wasn’t shouting or bitterness. This wasn’t anger or pain. This was wonder and joy and connection.

  Careful. Be careful.

  But she couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t think at all as pleasure spiralled higher and higher, gathering inside her, tighter and tighter.

  She wound her legs around Tariq’s lean hips and moved with him, becoming demanding, getting desperate, calling his name and not caring, giving herself up to the relentless build of sensation.

  And then he shifted, lifting one hand from her wrist and slipping it down between her legs, touching her where all the pleasure seemed to centre at the same time as he thrust one last time, deep and hard. And the world exploded into flames around her, making her scream his name as the molten gold of his eyes seemed to consume her whole.

  She lost herself after that, dimly aware of him suddenly moving hard and fast, and then the stiffening of his body and the sound of her name as he found his own pleasure.

  Then he was on top of her, heavy as a mountain falling, his breath hot in her ear, and the heat of his body was burning her alive. He remained like that for a couple of breathless seconds and she didn’t mind at all. His weight and the hard muscle against her was making her feel safe. Bringing her back to earth and anchoring her.

  Then his arms came around her and she was held fast against him as he turned over onto his back, taking her with him so she was at last resting on his broad chest. And they remained like that for long minutes, not speaking, with the silence of the desert filtering through the thin tent walls.

  ‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked after a long moment, his fingers trailing in a long caress down her back.<
br />
  His chest was so warm, his skin so smooth, with a light prickle of hair, and he smelled salty and musky and absolutely delicious. She couldn’t stop herself from pressing her mouth to his skin.

  ‘No, not at all.’ She kissed him again, then glanced up, smiling a little shyly. ‘It was amazing.’

  He didn’t smile back, the set of his mouth grim. Yet she could see the after-effects of pleasure glowing like hot coals in his eyes. Something tight collected inside her. Had he not enjoyed it? It had seemed as if he had, and yet his expression said the opposite.

  ‘It wasn’t amazing?’ She swallowed, searching his face. ‘I tried not to disappoint—’

  She broke off as his fingers tangled abruptly in her hair and he lowered his head for a hard kiss, his mouth ravaging hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

  ‘You did not disappoint,’ he growled, releasing her.

  Panting slightly, she stared at him, bewildered. ‘Then why are you looking like you’d never had a worse experience in your life?’

  His eyes glittered, the expression in them still impossible to read. ‘You are dangerous, ya amar. Do you know that?’

  ‘Dangerous?’ she repeated blankly, not understanding. ‘How am I dangerous?’

  ‘A king is supposed to be isolated. He should remain detached or else face having his judgement impaired.’ He untangled his fingers from her hair, and one thumb stroked the back of her neck in an absent movement, as if he couldn’t help himself. ‘I cannot risk my judgement being impaired.’

  She leaned back into his hand, loving his caress, yet remaining puzzled by his words. ‘What’s that got to do with me being dangerous?’

  ‘You are a threat to my detachment.’ His voice had got lower, rougher, and the fierce glow in his eyes was burning bright. ‘And to my judgement. So you need to understand that this marriage will be a physical one only. Is that clear?’

  Something in her gut twisted, as if in distress. Which was strange, because she hadn’t expected anything from this marriage at all. But this didn’t sound bad. In fact, if sex was like that every time, then there didn’t appear to be a down side. It was good, even. If it was only sex, then there was no risk of feelings entering into the mix—no risk of it turning poisonous like her parents’ marriage.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, folding her hands on his chest and resting her chin on them. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Good.’

  The starkly beautiful lines of his face relaxed and he ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek in a light caress that made goosebumps erupt everywhere.

  ‘Now, tell me why such a passionate woman has remained a virgin so long.’

  She let out a long breath. It didn’t feel so bad to be telling him—not here, not with his big muscular body spread out beneath hers.

  ‘I told you that my parents had a very bitter divorce? Well, their relationship was...uh...volatile, to say the least. Lots of shouting at each other. Lots of screaming. Especially towards the end.’ She rubbed her thumb across his skin, tracing a little circle. ‘I thought if that was what a relationship was all about, then I didn’t want anything to do with one.’

  ‘Understandable. You can have sex without a relationship, however.’

  ‘I know.’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘I just never met anyone I wanted enough.’

  His gaze was very focused, very intense. ‘Never met anyone you let yourself want, you mean.’

  Charlotte sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. I didn’t want to risk getting involved with anyone, considering how bad it had been with Mum and Dad. And it’s probably a good thing—especially now.’

  ‘Why especially now?’

  She could feel her cheeks redden. Did she really have to explain it to him? Surely he would know?

  ‘Well, sex is pretty amazing, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t know how you could experience that and not get involved with someone.’

  Something flickered in his eyes, and again she couldn’t read it.

  ‘You say that like it is always that way. It is not, Charlotte.’

  She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. And suddenly she understood. What she had felt between them—that sense of connection—he must have felt too. And it wasn’t usual.

  That’s why you’re dangerous to him. And that’s why he is dangerous to you too.

  ‘Oh...’ she said faintly, the tangle of emotions in her gut knotting tighter. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘Of course you did not.’ His expression didn’t change, his focus remaining on her. ‘But it is a good thing that you do now. And it is also a good thing for us that we have such physical chemistry.’

  She could hear what he didn’t say.

  Because there will be no one else for either of us.

  Knowing that didn’t upset her—not as she’d thought it might. The fact was that she didn’t want anyone else. Even the thought of having another man touch her, be inside her the way Tariq had been, made her feel cold.

  But that connection you felt with him will only ever be in bed.

  Of course it would. That was fine, though. She didn’t need to have that sense of connection anywhere else.

  She met his gaze and smiled. She ignored the small kernel of ice that sat in the pit of her stomach. ‘You didn’t mind that I was inexperienced?’ she asked.

  ‘No, ya amar. Not in the slightest.’

  ‘Why do you call me that? I’m not your “most beautiful”.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ he disagreed. ‘Now you are my wife you will always be my most beautiful. And because your hair is silver, and you are so pale, you are like the moon, Charlotte.’

  The words made something warm glow in the centre of her chest. She’d never been given an endearment like that before. She’d never been given an endearment at all, and she liked it. Especially the idea of being his moon when he was the sun.

  ‘What about you?’ She stared up at him, suddenly curious. ‘What were your parents like?’

  A shadow crossed his face, gone so quickly that if she hadn’t been looking she might not have seen it at all.

  ‘My mother died when I was very young, so I did not know her. And my father was...very strict.’

  Her curiosity tightened at this odd hesitation, which seemed uncharacteristic for him. ‘Oh? How so?’

  But he only shook his head, reaching for her again. ‘Not now.’ His hand cupped the back of her head and exerted pressure, urging her towards him. ‘Now I need to make certain that my people get the heir I promised them.’

  And then her mouth was on his and there was no more talking.

  He kept her in the tent for a few more hours after that, making her desperate for him over and over, making her forget about everything but her frantic need to have him inside her.

  And after that, when twilight had begun to fall, he arranged her outside on the divan beneath the palms, and made her sit there with a glass of wine while he prepared the food that had been delivered by palace staff.

  Solar-powered lighting strung around the palms gave the oasis a soft illumination and later, after they’d eaten a delicious meal and the darkness had closed in, Tariq lit a fire with capable hands, then wrapped her in a blanket that he’d brought from the tent, making her lean back in his arms as they talked.

  He was not forthcoming about his family, but he was passionate about his people and his country, talking at length about his plans to keep Ashkaraz thriving. There was no doubting his conviction or his vision, and his drive to protect his people was incredibly attractive.

  He was incredibly attractive full stop.

  ‘Why do you keep the borders closed?’ she asked after a small lull in the conversation, with her hands wrapped around a mug of the most delicious hot chocolate she’d ever tasted. ‘And why do you give the outside world the impression of being a narrow and vicious ruler
?’

  He’d risen to put more wood on the fire, wearing only a pair of loose black trousers. The flames played over his impressive chest, making her fingers itch to touch him again, but the answer to this was important. Too important to be distracted from.

  Crouching, he added another stick to the flames from the pile beside him. Firelight limned the fierce planes and angles of his face in gold, making him look like a hero of old, bringing fire from the gods for the good of mankind.

  ‘You have not read our history, then?’ he asked, not looking up from what he was doing. ‘That is what you were told to do.’

  She flushed. ‘I know—and I did. But I started way back, when Ashkaraz first became Ashkaraz. I haven’t got to any recent history yet.’

  ‘All you need to know will be in the books.’

  There was a note of warning in his tone, an edge that made her gaze narrow. ‘You don’t want to tell me yourself?’

  ‘No.’ The word was flat and hard. The command of a king.

  Puzzled, Charlotte gazed at him. Recent history seemed a strange thing to be recalcitrant about, but she was reluctant to push it since they’d reached a pleasant equilibrium. Perhaps she should leave it. She was enjoying sitting out here with him, watching him do things for her and talking with him about all kinds of trivialities. He had a dry sense of humour that appealed to her, and he knew far more about the outside world and its politics than she’d thought he would.

  Pushing him would definitely make things tense, and she did hate that. Then again, he’d been constantly pushing her since she’d arrived in Ashkaraz, and much to her own surprise she hadn’t backed down. So why should she now? He’d made her reveal her father’s disappointment in her—why shouldn’t he give a little in return?

  Why should you care?

  Not wanting that particular thought, Charlotte shoved it away.

  ‘Why not?’ she asked carefully. ‘If I’m going to find out sooner or later, I’d much rather hear it from you first.’

  The fire glowed in the darkness, radiating heat, casting a warm light over Charlotte, wrapped in a blanket. Her hair lay loose over her bare shoulders and he was very aware that she hadn’t bothered to dress. That she was naked underneath that blanket.