Desert Orchid: The Desert Princes: Book 1 (24 page)

For many minutes he tortured her with pleasure, all the while denying her that ultimate release.

She groaned before turning to look over her shoulder, to watch him stroke and massage her flesh. And she no longer cringed, but her eyes burned with arousal as they stared into his. He took a deep breath of relief at what he saw in those vivid blue depths.

Acceptance.

Result.

"Put your shoulders on the pillows and turn your face towards me. Does your wound hurt?" All the while his fingers, slick with oil and her juices, explored the slick heat between her buttocks.

"No," she breathed the word.

"You're doing great, baby," he told her in a soft voice. Her full bottom lip trembled in a way that made him feel like a complete bastard. "I'm going to make you come now, darlin’."

Charisse couldn't believe what was happening to her body.

"Oh, God."

Khalid's fingertips never stopped their firm rhythm as they pressed relentlessly into the muscles of her buttocks, circling in a hypnotic way that made her want to close her eyes and simply feel. The merciless pressure of arousal deep in her womb was a combination of pleasure and pain. With every inhale the scent of his body, clean and healthy and male, and mingling with the citrus scent of the oil, only added to the pleasure.

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

Her nipples were throbbing, so screamingly sensitive, and yet he hadn't touched them. Her body was so aroused that she knew as soon as he touched the slick flesh of her secret places she would orgasm. The man knew exactly how to warm her bottom without hurting the too tight flesh. Yes, she'd nearly wept in stunned mortification to have herself exposed to him like this. She felt too vulnerable. But just enjoying the sensations of his touch made her womb clench and release a fluid that made her moan long and loud.

Khalid gave a deep laugh that made her make the sound again.

How on earth did he do that to her?

"That's it, baby," he whispered softly. "Just let yourself go."

His thumbs gently slid between the lips of her swollen flesh and shamelessly she opened her legs wider to give him better access to the spot that throbbed and swelled for his attention. His thumb snaked around the hood of that screaming little bead and she shuddered as every single muscle from her toes to her scalp spasmed.

Just that touch triggered the most intense orgasm of her life.

Charisse buried her face in the pillow and screamed so long and so loud that it echoed through the high ceiling carved out of sheer rock.

Khalid lifted her in his strong arms.

He sat on the edge of the bed and held her tight.

Her body was still shuddering with aftershocks.

She held on tight to him and wept into his naked chest.

The self-loathing she'd clung to and how she'd never been able to look at her scars without feeling physically ill, along with the ultimate betrayal by the person who'd brought her into this world, a person who was supposed to protect her, all those complex emotions exploded through her system and threatened to devour her very soul.

She wept for the girl she'd been before death had robbed her of her sister, of her mother.

She wept for the broken girl who had arrived in Onuur.

And God knew she wept for the woman she'd need to become for the husband she loved with all her heart.

All Charisse could do was to hang onto the man who'd forced her to confront and accept the physical consequences of the darkest time in her life.

She had no idea how long she wept.

It could have been minutes or hours, but when she raised her head to look at the man who'd refused to let her hide from her demons and still held her tight, the expression of self-loathing on his fabulous face nearly stopped her heart.

With unsteady fingers, she swiped the tears from her face.

"Khalid. Look at me."

He did and she'd never seen eyes so bleak as they stared into hers.

"Do you see what kind of man I am? Even though you're sore and still healing I can't keep my hands off you. Do you know what I want to do to you? I want to ride you hard, and ride you fast. This is why I didn't come near you." He pulled her into his body, rested his cheek on top of her head. "I can't trust myself around you."

His voice shook with something like desperation as he rubbed his cheek on her hair. His erection, rock hard, dug into her hip. And even though she'd had an amazing orgasm, her body still ached from a lack of completion she now knew only he could give her.

"I want you. I need you inside me," she whispered.

His big body shuddered as he inhaled the scent of her hair. "It's too soon. I'll hurt you."

And Charisse knew she had to find the courage to do what must be done.

With a shaky breath she rose to her feet to walk with a sinuous swing of her hips to a low backed couch.

As she bent over the wide arms of the couch, she heard him groan.

Praying to God that her voice didn't wobble, she looked at him over her shoulder.

"Khalid. Do your husbandly duty."

Husbandly duty?

For a stupefied moment, Khalid could do nothing but stare at her.

What had happened to the sobbing woman in his arms?

Hadn’t he opened her eyes to the kind of man he was?

But no, yet again she had taken control.

The little witch.

Then the naughty girl wiggled her bare bottom, rolling her hips in a way that electrified his groin. Even more blood surged between his legs, tightening his boys so hard he thought he was going to disgrace himself.

Perhaps he
could
do this?

Perhaps he could take her from behind, taking care not to thrust too deep?

He stood and moved to stand between her spread legs.

Bending over her, his arousal pressed between the cheeks of her buttocks.

Taking the long plait of silver hair in one hand, he wrapped it around his wrist.

Gently bringing her head up, he brought his mouth to her ear and immediately the scent of her had him close his eyes tight.

She smelled fabulous.

"Husbandly duty?" he purred.

His erection nudged the slick heat between her legs.

"Yes! I want your child in my belly, my husband," she whimpered.

Her words made something in his chest squeeze tight. They almost unmanned him as he found her hot, wet, entrance and slid inside, inch by inch.

She gasped, and turned her head inviting him to take her mouth.

He didn't need to be asked twice. His mouth, and tongue, and teeth erotically plundered hers, and she gave as good as she got. And he shuddered. She was so unbelievably tight, so hot.

"Am I hurting you?" he panted, fighting a war of attrition to stay absolutely still.

"No," she gasped again and tried to push her bottom back against him.

He kept a firm grip of her hip to hold her firm. Then bending his knees, he pushed his pelvis forward and back, forward and back, until he went further, deeper, and he hit the sweet spot deep in her channel. She screamed with pleasure as she tried to arch her back but his grip held her fast.

"More, harder," she cried.

But Khalid gritted his teeth. He dare not let himself go. In his determination not to hurt her his big body tremored. Her body was pulsing, fisting around him to squeeze so hard he sobbed out a breath. He'd never, ever, felt anything like it. Through a brute force of will, he kept the pace slow and steady. It nearly killed him. Hard sobs broke from his throat with every single shuddering thrust of his hips. And Charisse was in just as bad a state. A part of his brain registered the amazing fact that their breathing had synchronised.

The abrupt clench of her core muscles contracted around him so strongly his eyes crossed. And an orgasm so deep, so powerful had her catch her breath before she came apart with a wail that triggered his own release. His own orgasm had him roar like a bull as his boys tightened too fast and her body gripped him even tighter drawing him further into her slick heat to milk him until he had nothing, nothing, left to give.

How the hell he lifted her and carried her to their bed he never knew because his legs were boneless.

He was shivering, as if gripped by fever.

Laying her carefully on her uninjured side, he stroked a trembling hand gently down her hip before tucking his arm under her breasts and holding her close, spooned against him.

Pulling the comforter over them, he inhaled the scent of her hair, of her warm, sexy body, of Charisse.

Emotions, too many to deal with, stung his eyes, burned the back of his throat.

Christ, he found it hard to think, hard to speak.

He cleared his throat. "Tell me I didn't hurt you."

Alarmed, at first he thought she was crying, then he sighed in relief when he realised she was laughing. "It's been a big day. I drank champagne. You carried me in your arms. A nurse tried to kill me. I got married. Flew in a spooky helicopter to James Bond's holiday home. You gave me a massage. And if I'm not pregnant with triplets after that it will be a miracle."

A huge wave of emotions battered him again.

But as he inhaled the scent of his woman, Khalid knew he must be nothing less than honest with her. "I am not an easy man to live with," he admitted in a gruff voice.

She wiggled her bottom against his groin in a way that made him groan.

Then she gave a tired but happy little sigh to settle snugly in his arms.

"It's been a breeze so far."

Five days later, one of the many things that intrigued Charisse about her new husband was his apparent inability to simply be still.

The idea of relaxation was a complete anathema to Khalid.

The morning after the massage, her gasp of awe as she'd stepped out of the sliding doors of their bedroom had made him laugh into her hair. He'd held her tight as she'd leaned back into the hard length of his body. She'd simply inhaled the clear mountain air and absorbed the reality of the stupendous views of mountain tops for as far as the eye could see.

Amir had rarely taken her out of Onuur. As part of his quest to complete her education, and for her to experience other cultures, Amir had taken her to a mountain resort in the African country of Zimbabwe. The resort of 'Leopard's Rock' was a place with stupendous views right over the mountains of the moon into Mozambique. The views here reminded her of that amazing sight.

The vast property, carved out of rock, had a comprehensive library she loved to explore. As well as a state-of-the-art gymnasium, there was a rock pool with gin-clear water fed by an underground spring. There were a couple of entertainment rooms, one of which held a cinema screen with six velvet loungers, the colour of red wine, and large enough to fit two people.

Just last night he'd made love to her in one of those loungers when they were supposed to be enjoying a movie.

Khalid also spent a great deal of time drawing using pen and ink. And usually he was drawing her, which was taking a bit of getting used to, especially the way that intense gaze analysed her face and her body. Those darkly brooding eyes missed absolutely nothing. He was beginning to know and understand her in ways that made her uneasy. He saw too much. He'd taken possession, not just of her body, but of her mind.

The trouble was, Charisse mused, as she floated on her back in the heavenly cool water of the rock pool, Khalid himself remained a man of mystery. Every time she thought she'd found the heart of him, yet another layer appeared.

She was beginning to suspect that emotionally he was deliberately keeping her at arm’s length. Now she wondered why that was, and what she was going to do about it.

A full night's sleep was something else that eluded her husband.

Even after making love he appeared to find it impossible to switch off.

Not once had she woken to find him asleep. Although he permitted her to rest and recover after making love, she knew that if she'd been physically one hundred per cent fit, he would turn to her many times during the night. His hunger for her body showed no signs of abating. Not that she was complaining, the feeling was mutual and she loved every single thing he did to her.

However, the one subject that he refused to discuss with her was the boating accident, which had had such a devastating impact on him, and on his relationship with his family. Her instincts were telling her that if she could just get him to open up and talk about the event, she might develop an insight into what was tormenting him.

Two days ago she'd been relaxing by the pool and mentioned something his mother had said about his sister. The agonising look on his face was something she'd never forget in a hurry. He'd stood and simply walked away. It had taught her to think carefully in case she spoke out of turn. But having to take care with her thoughts, her words, had meant Charisse couldn't relax and just be herself. Amir had demanded that she question something she did not understand. He'd encouraged her to analyse and dissect a situation or problem in order to find a solution.