ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance (87 page)

He was surprised when she squeezed back. She still did not look up at him, but her voice was soft when she said, “There is still one more name that your sisters have mentioned. May I ask how she has fit into the puzzle of your life?”

Swallowing harshly, he began the tale that had broken a young heart so many years ago.

Jahan was lovely. She had a smile that could light up a room and eyes that were startlingly bright despite their dark color. She was only ten when Ahmed first met her and could have been a little boy as much as a girl, climbing trees until her skirts were torn and her hair was wild. It was what had drawn him to her in the very beginning.

“Will you not climb with me, little prince? Or have all those who rule your life deemed you too fragile to play games with such high risks?” She teased and taunted him, sticking out her tongue at him until he was red in the face and determined to prove her wrong.

“I am a prince!” Ahmed, only twelve himself, retorted. “I do as I please when I so please it!”

She grinned broadly at him. “Then please it now!”

And without another word, Ahmed began to climb. He fell three times from that tree over the course of the next three months, but he climbed it over a thousand times. His mother fussed and asked him who was responsible for such a thing, but he never told on Jahan. He kept her his own little secret and before he even realized what had happened, his heart was breaking out of his chest to join with hers.

At twelve and fourteen they had moved on from climbing trees to climbing walls. More specifically, the walls that surrounded the palace, meant for their protection. Ahmed gave her a boost first as he was taller and then she would help him scramble up the smooth walls until they were both straddling the wall. And when he managed to get down on the other side, he caught her in his arms and they would play about in the market or wherever they pleased, until they knew the castle guards would get in trouble at his being missing.

At fourteen and sixteen, Jahan noticed a change in Ahmed that he scarcely noticed himself. He was interested all of a sudden in the parties that brought many beautiful women to the palace and he enjoyed it when his sister’s friends giggled at him as he passed by, blushing when he spoke to them or kissed the backs of their hands.

It made Jahan furious. For a long time, they hardly even engaged with each other. It was not until Jahan got sick at the age of fifteen and was bed ridden for several long days that Ahmed remembered his childhood friend and returned to her. He sat with her and read her stories, telling her of old mysteries and new discoveries and far off lands full of exotic wonder.

Soon, she was better, and at fifteen and seventeen, Ahmed finally saw something different in Jahan. She had grown beautiful. She had grown into a young woman who was rapidly changing before his very eyes.

He dared to kiss her one night on the eve of her sixteenth birthday and could still remember the blush across her full cheeks and the trembling of her bottom lip. He should have known better than to think he might keep her, but he dared to anyway.

They kept their activities together secret then, just as they had as small children, though their games had become anything but childish.

He stole kisses in the garden, along the wall, under trees and in them. He stole kisses in unused corridors and in vacant rooms. He stole them in the middle of the night in her bedroom. Until by eighteen and twenty, he was no longer stealing kisses, but something far more precious. The passion that bloomed between them was unlike anything else he had ever experienced and his first exploration of the female body was uncertain, urgent, and exquisite.

And then it was over.

Jahan was not a princess, but she was a wealthy noble. Her father had intentions for her and had procured a wonderful suitor. Jahan protested, saying that she loved another, but that resulted in a severe punishment that at the very least included a sharp slap across the face. They left that same day, before Ahmed could even protest their departure. He had considered many times saying that he, the crown prince, craved her hand, but he worried that speaking up might further destroy her reputation. If her father learned of their clandestine affairs, he might become enraged.

In the end, Ahmed could not understand his true power and allowed Jahan to marry another. She wrote him only a single letter stating that he was a cruel, uncaring man who used her for his own selfish pleasures only to toss her aside when it was no longer convenient to have her. She accused him of being too afraid to stand up to her father.

He had to admit he was right. He wrote her back only to say he was sorry. They had not spoken since.

Ahmed fell silent as his story came to a close, his eyes staring off into the distance, thinking of a past time with a past girl whom he had once loved very deeply. She was but a fading memory now, but one that would not leave him be completely. He could not decide whether he wanted to hold her in his memories forever or if he wished to cast her aside until he was free from the guilt of having not been brave enough to stand up for her.

A soft, small hand slipped onto his, startling him back to the present. He turned to see that Keisha was looking at him with a soft smile. She squeezed his hand firmly and he returned the gesture.

“You still care for this woman?” Keisha asked hesitantly, as though uncertain if she truly wished to know the honest answer.

Ahmed considered that. Did he still care for Jahan? Yes, yes he did. She had been such an integral part of his life for many years and she had been for him the very first taste of love. He would not and could not forget that, whatever he might wish for in his heart. She had taught him two very important things: there is no greater loss than that of love and that love is worth doing anything and everything for.

Finally, Ahmed looked up to Keisha and smiled. “I do, but I am not that boy any more than she is that same girl. We have both grown and while I regret my actions, I do not regret our relationship for it has taught me lessons I could not have hoped to learn otherwise. It has taught me how to be a better man in
this
relationship and to fight for
this
love with all that I have, because it is the
only
thing worth fighting for.”

He pulled her close to him and leaned his face down until they were inches apart. They were close enough that he could feel her breath against his mouth, causing a shudder of sensation to travel the length of his body. Searching her eyes for permission, it was only when he found it there shining back at him, that he closed the remaining distance and covered his mouth with hers.

She was just as sweet as he remembered and when her tongue slid across his lower lip, he knew that he needed more moments of this for the rest of his days.

Heat swept through Keisha suddenly and with a vengeance. The kiss was meant to be sweet, tender, but it sent an explosion through her that could not be denied. She craved more from him than mere passing caresses or the soft pressure of his lips. Instead, she wanted the heat that came from their union. So her tongue slipped along his lower lips, inviting him to take what was rightfully his as her husband.

He shuddered against her touch and his mouth opened so that his tongue might slip out to meet hers. They battled, sliding against each other, each desperate to taste the other.

Ahmed’s hand went to her shoulders and began there, slipping along their gentle curve until he found soft, supple skin. His touch was like lightning and she knew without question that he felt the same surge of energy fill his body.

Their control and restraint dissolved quickly after that, Ahmed’s hands suddenly fumbling with her clothing, urging it away from her body so that he might reveal more of her tanned skin. Keisha’s hands went into his hair, patiently allowing him to disrobe her, because he always needed to see her naked first if he could. There was something carnal about his need and she embraced it wholeheartedly, because the way he touched the skin he exposed was like worship.

He undid her top, sliding it off her shoulders. She had to remove her hands from his hair for a moment so that he could do it, but thankfully she didn’t have to break the kiss, not until he insisted on viewing her full, round breasts.

His hands went to them, weighing them each in the palms of his hands. His voice was hoarse, filled with lust and a deep, passionate need that had awakened possibly the very moment they had met, “They will grow as our child grows in your womb.” His thumbs reached up and ran over her nipples, causing them to become hard and pointed.

Keisha sucked in a harsh breath, leaning back slightly and arching her back so that her breasts were pushed farther into his waiting and eager hands. “Will you like that, my love?” she asked, her voice breathy with heat.

He leaned forward and slid his tongue along her left breast, sliding up from the very underside it, along the full slope until he reached the peak. Then he sucked her nipple into his mouth and nibbled on it softly.

She let out a soft moan as her breath caught and the sensation sent tendrils of pleasure throughout her system.

When he let the nipple slip from his mouth, he answered with a hot breath against the damp spot he’d left on her skin, “I enjoy your body already and I will enjoy it as it changes to grow our child and I will enjoy it after. You are so beautiful, my love, my Keisha.”

He laid her back on the lounge there and she could feel a soft breeze coming in through the large window on her left, the sheer curtains fluttering mildly beneath it. His hands moved down from her breasts, sliding over her ribcage and into the valley of her belly where it would soon grow in size until she was ready to give birth. For now, it was slim, flat beneath his fingertips. He paused at her belly, however, and leaned his face down to it. He pressed a soft kiss there, a reminder that he knew she was pregnant and he loved both mother and child unquestioningly already.

Then he moved lower.

His hands went over her hips, catching the skirt that clung to her curves. He slipped it down over her until it was across her thighs and he had revealed her more intimate areas, her lips glistening already with moisture, ready for his swollen member. His hands left her skirt to focus on her thighs, his thumbs moving inward so that he could squeeze the flesh there and pull them slightly apart from one another. That was when he dipped his face between her legs and allowed his mouth to kiss her nether region.

She arched her back and let out a long, soft moan, a gentle plea for him to continue and to not tease her.

He laughed a little softly against her soft lips and his fingers met his mouth to slip between her folds. She cried out again, a little louder this time, as his finger slipped inside of her. He began to massage her from within and she began to pant with need. He added a second finger as his tongue slipped across her most sensitive nub.

She begged him for more then, crying out his name, “Ahmed!”

He obliged her by pulling away. He jerked her skirt the rest of the way off, letting it fall with a soft flutter to the floor near his feet, before working on his own clothing. With hazy, desire filled eyes, half lidded, she saw him bare his sculpted chest and watched as he revealed that his member was already swollen and thick with desire. She watched as his hand stroked his own length twice before returning to her.

When he laid himself on top of her, bracing his hands on either side of her face for balance and support, she spread her legs wider immediately to accommodate him. He settled between them and she felt his engorged length sliding along her inner thigh, leaving a trail of heat and moisture in its wake.

She shivered in anticipation and reached her own hand between their bodies. She found him and he let out a gasp in response, his eyes closing tightly against the sensation. Guiding him to her moist entrance, he sucked in a sharp breath when the head of his shaft touched the heat of her wet lips.

His eyes snapped open and met hers.

How many times had they done this, Keisha didn’t know, but she knew that she would never tire of this moment right now. The moment before he dove inside of her and lost himself, buried as deeply as he could.

He seemed to feel the same, because he paused for a deep breath, then smiled slowly at her. When he finally drove himself inside of her, she cried out and he grunted. He buried himself inside until their naked bodies were pressed tightly together, sweat mixing from each of them and causing them to slide wetly as he began to thrust.

At first, he moved slowly. Not cautious so much as torturous, giving her both time to adjust to his size and to let her experience the full length of him, every inch, as it slid between her lips and into her body.

By the fourth slow thrust, it was more than either of them could withstand. His speed began to increase, his thrusts becoming sharp jabs into her very core, sending strokes of pleasure throughout her system until she was panting and crying and begging and calling his name to echo off the high ceilings of his room.

Allowing one hand to remain beside her head to hold his weight, the other shifted down so that he could grab her breast. He squeezed it, much to her pleasure, and rubbed the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he continued to impale himself inside her.

Keisha’s hands had found as much of him as they could. Sometimes they would bury within his thick, silky strands, tugging and urging him towards more. Sometimes they would slide across his broad shoulders, sometimes drawing little lines with her nails, others just gripping tightly as though clinging to boulders. Her hands found his hips, too, and his trim waist. His abs constricted beneath her touch. She found his rear and squeezed him there, too, helping to push him farther into him as he thrust. Keisha clung to whatever part of him she could both to quench her undeniable need to touch him and to brace herself through the power and pleasure of their lovemaking.