Читать книгу Hot Arabian Nights - Marguerite Kaye - Страница 16
ОглавлениеJulia’s kisses had aroused him beyond belief. Her shy, delightful plea to be permitted to pleasure him stirred Azhar’s blood. Patience, he told himself, but what he really needed was control, and he wasn’t sure how much of that he could muster.
He left her briefly to prepare the bathing tent. The bath stood ready, as he had ordered, scented with rosewater. The candles set on the low table where the oils and soaps had been set out were quickly lit. Soft drying cloths were laid in a neat stack. At the rear of the tent, the trunk containing Julia’s clothing lay open. In the space at the front, around the bath, were thick rugs, velvet cushions, a table set with her brushes and combs. He had thought only of her comfort when ordering it to be set out like this, but being surrounded by familiar personal possessions would serve equally well to relax her.
Holding back the tent flap, Azhar beckoned to her, relishing the look of wonder on her face as she took in the unashamedly luxurious tent. ‘If ever I had any doubts that you were a prince,’ she said, her eyes gleaming, ‘they are well and truly dispelled. No mere mortal could conjure such wonders from thin air. It must have taken an army of servants to set the camp up. Where are they?’
‘I have made them disappear. I am not a prince, I am a magician,’ Azhar said.
She laughed. ‘Whichever you are, you have certainly worked your magic. Thank you. This is completely indulgent and wholly unnecessary but...’
‘I like to indulge you. Take your time. There is no rush.’
He turned to go, but Julia called him back. ‘A bath such as this is most soothing after a day spent on a camel,’ she said. ‘You told me so once, and I discovered you were right.’
She was nervous, but she was also—there was a look in her eyes that made his heart race. ‘I remember,’ Azhar said.
‘‘And—and if I remember correctly, you also told me that a massage was of great benefit to tired limbs and bodies.’
‘That is true.’
‘We have both been on a camel all day. I presume your limbs and body are as tired as mine?’
She was blushing wildly, but she was looking straight at him. Her courage staggered him, even as her daring made the blood thunder in his ears. ‘Julia, you do not have to...’ He stopped short, realising how easy it would be for her to misinterpret his words. ‘If you are asking me to share your bath with you then I would like that,’ he said. ‘I would like that very, very much.’
Her smile was his reward, partly relieved, partly nervous, but mostly pleased. It touched him, that smile. He had no doubts of her ability to arouse him—she only had to look at him to do that—but he wanted very much to prove it to her. He wanted her to see how much she aroused him, and by doing so, to be assured of her own potent attraction. The line between encouragement and direction was a fine one, but he was determined to tread it.
‘If we are to bathe we must first remove our clothes. All of them,’ he said, slipping off his cloak before unfastening hers.
Julia hesitated only briefly before pushing her headdress off, unfastening the buttons of his tunic with shaky fingers. He kicked off his boots. She did the same. He unfastened the belt which held his trousers in place. She undid the buttons of her own tunic. He stepped out his trousers. Julia untied the sash at her waist and stepped out of her wide pantaloons. Her breasts rose and fell quickly beneath her tunic, the only item of clothing she still had on. He wanted to tear it from her but forced himself to wait, not wanting to rush her, more importantly not wanting to wrest control from her.
Her eyes fixed on his, she lifted the tunic over her head and dropped it to the floor. Her arms fluttered up to cover her breasts, but she stilled them, standing proudly naked under his gaze. ‘Julia,’ was all he could manage. His whole body ached with desire. He could not resist touching her. Taking her long braid of hair in his hands, he undid the ribbon and began to untangle it, running his fingers through the fiery river of red, letting it ripple out over her shoulders, down her back, over the creamy mounds of her breasts. Her nipples were dark-pink peaks. The silky curls between her legs were dark auburn. He could count her ribs, she was so slender, and yet the flare of her hips from her narrow waist was delightful.
‘Julia,’ he said, touching her carefully, reverently, her arms, her waist, the curve of her bottom and her breasts. His breath was ragged. Hers was shallow. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to sink his shaft deep inside her. But he waited, because that was what she wanted.
‘Now you,’ she said.
He lifted his tunic over his head and dropped it to the floor, horribly conscious of his engorged shaft jutting proudly from his body. He knew women found his body desirable. He had never been self-conscious about his flesh. But he could not recall ever standing like this, flamboyantly aroused, being blatantly examined by a woman he was absolutely certain had never so blatantly examined a man in such a way before. He found himself hoping he pleased her, something he had never before doubted to be true.
She touched him lightly, mirroring the way he had touched her. Her fingers on his shoulders, fluttering over his chest, his nipples, stopping at his hips. She bit her lip, her eyes on his shaft, and then fluttering up to meet his, the question in them clear. He took her hand, curling it around him, and at the same time kissing her deeply. She kissed him back. Her breasts pressed against his chest, the hard peaks of her nipples a delicious frisson of pressure on his skin.
Then she broke the kiss, her eyes drawn down again, running her hand experimentally along his length. Azhar shuddered, his eyes closing momentarily. She did it again, the pads of her fingers lightly caressing the sensitive skin at the tip, and Azhar had to bite back a moan, had to clench his fists in an effort to hold on to some element of control.
‘You don’t like that?’ Julia said.
‘I like it,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘but if we are going to bathe, then you will have to unhand me.’
Julia smiled, tightening her hand just a fraction around him. ‘I don’t want to unhand you. I’m not ready to bathe yet,’ she said, stroking him this time, all the way up, all the way down.
His breath expelled in a rush. He had thought he couldn’t get any harder, but he had been wrong.
‘Lie down,’ Julia commanded. She gave him a little encouraging shove. ‘Lie down, Azhar,’ she said, this time with a great deal more confidence.
He lay down on the cushions. Julia dropped to her knees between his legs. Her hair fell over her shoulders, brushing his belly. He shuddered. She gathered a handful of her hair in her hand and brushed it over his chest. ‘Do you like that?’ she asked him.
‘Yes.’
She stroked his nipples with the hair. Satin soft, yet it positively ached. ‘Do you like that, Azhar?’
‘Julia,’ he said with a tight smile, remembering her own words, ‘Everything you do pleases me.’
Her laughter was husky. She trailed her hair down his belly, brushing it lightly over his skin. He could see tantalising glimpses of her nipples. Her knees brushed the inside of his thighs. His heart was hammering so hard he was surprised he could still breathe. The anticipation of what she would do next was almost as arousing as what she did. Satin-soft hair on his shaft now, and Azhar let out a deep moan. She trailed it down his length then back up again. The sensation was so intense, his fists clenched.
‘You like that, Azhar,’ Julia said, and this time it was not a question.
She leaned forward to kiss him, and her breasts pressed against his chest again. He could feel the soft brush of her sex on his shaft, and in response, he could feel, horribly close, too close, his climax gathering. Her mouth was achingly sweet. He arched under her, pressing himself unashamedly against her, and she gave a soft, feral cry. The urge to take her then, to feel her hot, sweet, wet flesh tight around him, was almost overpowering. He dug his fingers into the cushions at his side. Julia’s tongue touched his, and he cried out again.
‘Julia...’
‘Azhar,’ she said, deliberately teasing him with the brush of her nipples over his chest, ‘I do believe you like that too.’
It was there in her eyes, the gleam of satisfaction he had wished for her to discover, arousal enhanced by the power to arouse. ‘Julia, I like that so much that if you do it again...’
She did it again. And she laughed as he groaned, a laugh of sheer delight that was curtailed as he pulled her to him, ravaging her mouth, his hands curved around her rear, praying for one more second, two more seconds, five more seconds of control even as her mouth and her tongue and the weight of her flesh pressing down on his body made exerting that control agonising.
‘Julia,’ he said, quite desperate now.
And she understood. She sat up. She knelt back between his legs. She took his shaft between her hands, and she stroked. Inexpert as her touch was, it was all he needed, all he wanted. Too gentle, but more than enough. With a hoarse cry, Azhar climaxed, grabbing a drying cloth just in time, feeling as if the seed he spilled had been torn from deep inside him and when he thought he was done spilling more, as Julia stroked him again, and then again.
* * *
Julia surveyed the man lying beneath her with wonder. He lay sprawled, his eyes closed, his lashes thick on his cheek, his arms spread, and his male part still thick and hard in her hand. She felt an odd flush of triumph, knowing that she had done this, that she had taken him to such heights, that she had forced him to lose control. But it was most certainly not the only triumph she felt. She knew now what Azhar meant. His pleasure had most decidedly been her pleasure. Her nipples ached. She cupped her breasts, shuddering as the brush of her palm connected with the sensitive skin. Closing her eyes, she risked the tiniest brush of her thumbs over the peaks, remembering how Azhar had touched her like this, and had to bite back a moan.
Opening her eyes again, she found he was looking at her. Hastily, she dropped her hands, but Azhar shook his head. ‘No, don’t stop.’
She shook her head, mortified.
‘I like it, Julia,’ he said with a slow smile. ‘Every bit as much as you do. Do it again.’
He liked it? Unconvinced, but almost too aroused to care, Julia touched herself again, cupping her breasts, running her thumbs over her nipples. Her back arched. Her eyes drifted closed. Deep inside, her muscles clenched.
Azhar pulled her on top of him, his mouth claiming hers briefly. ‘No,’ she said, ‘this was for you.’
He rolled her on to her back. ‘And this is for both of us,’ he said. He kissed her. Then his lips were on her breast, licking her nipple, his hand teasing the other. Then he eased her legs open, and his mouth was on her belly. And then lower. Julia arched up, thrusting unashamedly as he licked into her. She had had no idea she was so close, so ready, so tight. To try to hold back would be futile, and she did not want to hold back. A lick, a thrust, she did not know what he was doing nor did she care, save that it was exactly what she wanted. Her climax ripped through her, wave upon wave of hot, heady pleasure, and she cried out with a wild abandon that she did not know herself capable of.
* * *
The water in the bathing tub was refreshingly cool as Julia sank into it—alone, after all—some time later. Her body felt heavy, her skin glowed. She lay back, closing her eyes, drifting into a languid state, sated and satisfied in a way she had never been before. The image of Azhar, also sated and satisfied, lying beneath her, made her shudder. She could not possibly be aroused again so quickly, yet she was. Was this normal? Was her body, deprived of such carnal pleasure, now becoming addicted?
She sighed, lying back in the water, enjoying the lap of it over her skin. They had not even made proper love. Though her experience of making proper love was far too proper for her new decadent self. There would be nothing proper about making love with Azhar. It would be as improper as she could possibly imagine, and more, since she actually couldn’t imagine—though she wanted to. She wanted to know what she had been missing all these years.
Julia sat up, splashing water everywhere. Initially, the month she had agreed to stay had seemed to stretch out like an eternity, and yet already more than half of it was gone. When she set out from Cornwall, this trip had merely been the first step on her path to freedom. Her desire to fulfil her promises and claim that freedom was every bit as fervent as before, but the sense of urgency was no longer there. The desert was not simply a means to an end, an exotic habitat that she must traverse in order to complete a task, it had an allure all of its own. She would happily linger here another month, or even three.
‘And just how, exactly, would you manage that, Julia Trevelyan?’ she asked herself sternly as she stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in one of the huge drying cloths. She had just about sufficient funds to get herself back to England. There could be no question of her extending her trip here. ‘And no real desire to do so, without Azhar,’ she muttered ruefully. For she had spoken the truth earlier. Alluring though the desert was, it was Azhar who had bewitched her.
She finished drying herself and selected a loose cotton tunic to wear. Even if their idyll was by some magic extended for another month, it would still have to end, because that was the nature of idylls. They were not real.
In the real world, she and Azhar could be nothing to each other. Aside from the problem of geography, there was the matter of the freedom they both valued so highly. Azhar did not want a wife. Julia did not want a husband, and she most certainly did not want another husband who was already married to something else. ‘I refuse to come second-best ever again, whether that be to a scientific treatise or even an Arabian kingdom,’ she muttered to herself.
She shuddered. ‘Never, never, never again.’ Picking up a comb, Julia set about pulling it ruthlessly through her damp and tangled hair.
* * *
The gold mines were located deep into the mountains, an arduous morning’s trek over terrain that was treacherously steep and stony. Though her camel seemed to be quite untroubled by this, the box saddle on which she balanced swayed so much that Julia felt as if she was sitting in a dinghy in a storm without either sail or rudder. Aware of Azhar’s watchful eye, determined not to add to his troubles by breaking her neck, she clung on for dear life.
He had retreated into himself today. Sheikh, trader, Prince, he looked any or all of those as he rode, sitting straight and tall in the saddle with an ease that was even more impressive now that Julia herself knew how very difficult it was. She marvelled that this intimidating man, made more mysterious by his cloak and headdress, could be the same man who had lain naked and aroused beneath her, had unravelled at her touch, and who had brought her to a peak of pleasure she had not known existed. Looking at him now, she felt as if she barely knew him. Was he thinking the same of her?
No, he was not thinking of her at all. He was thinking about the meeting to come with the Overseer of the gold mine they were to visit, which he had discussed with her over dinner last night.
‘The entrance to the mine is just there,’ Azhar said, in confirmation a few moments later.
It looked to Julia like a cave, but as they drew closer she could see that it was in reality the entrance of an extremely steep tunnel cut into the red rock of the mountain. A wide wooden ladder was affixed to the ground, dropping at a sharp angle into the black hole that was the mine shaft. ‘How far underground does it go?’ she asked, peering over the edge.
‘It is not so much deep as long,’ Azhar replied. ‘The tunnels spread for miles through the mountain. There is silver as well as gold here.’
‘How many men work below ground?’
‘There are two teams of fifteen. The conditions here are difficult as you can see, almost no plant life to interest you I am afraid. The men work for five days, then return to their village for five days to rest. Their oasis is almost another half-day’s travel from here. While they are here, they shelter in these huts,’ Azhar said pointing to a huddle of adobe shelters about a hundred yards away. ‘Come, I have arranged for us to meet the Overseer there.’
* * *
It was dusk once again, the end of a very long day as they neared the end of their return journey. ‘Is it the custom for men and women to take tea together as we did?’ Julia asked. ‘It was very hospitable of the Overseer’s wife to make the trip from her village simply to serve it. When you suggested she sit with us, she looked quite shocked, it made me wonder whether my presence at your side has been causing all manner of outrage.’
‘As a foreigner and my guest, I hope you feel you have been treated with the utmost respect throughout.’
‘And with a great deal of kindness too, but...’
‘But that does not answer your question,’ Azhar said. ‘It is not unusual, but in some households it is not common practice. I have not previously met the Overseer. By asking his wife to sit with us I was demonstrating that I respected and trusted him.’
‘And do you?’ Julia asked.
Azhar nodded slowly. ‘What did you think?’
‘You said yourself that the yields from that gold mine are not an issue. In fact you said they had increased slightly in the last two years,’ Julia said. ‘I could only partially follow the conversation, but it seemed to me that when you mentioned the diamond mines, he looked quite uncomfortable.’
‘It could be because he knows that they are not so productive and does not wish to be seen to triumph.’
‘Yes, but it is more likely that he knows there is something wrong and is either afraid to mention it, or unwilling to voice unsubstantiated suspicions,’ Julia said.
‘Either way, it would be unfair of me to force the issue—and besides, rumour is not evidence.’
‘And you are now certain that you will find tangible evidence?’
Azhar sighed heavily. ‘I fear so. The conflicting accounts of the Chief Overseer and the diamond miners do not square.’
‘What if it is the men who are stealing the diamonds?’
‘Not possible. They are searched as they leave the mine every night. No, it is the Chief Overseer, I am certain of it, but I have to be careful how I go about proving it. I don’t want to alert his suspicions.’
Julia worried at her bottom lip. If Azhar truly thought that the Chief Overseer of the diamond mines was corrupt, then it would be an ideal opportunity for Kamal to demonstrate his authority. But what if the Chief Overseer was not the source of corruption, what if it went higher? That could only mean one thing.
Her heart contracted. She couldn’t bear to think of what that would do to Azhar. While he had been out speaking to the returning gold miners this afternoon, the Overseer’s wife had managed to ask Julia rather diffidently when she planned to return to England, and if the Crown Prince intended to escort her. She seemed inexplicably relieved to hear of Julia’s plans to return so soon and alone. Thinking that the woman had mistakenly assumed her a possible bride for Azhar, she had gone to great pains to contradict her, and had been even more confused by the woman’s amusement. Now she wondered if what was as the root of her questions was simpler—a fear that their Prince, having been absent for ten years, might desert them again. Leaving another prince to be crowned, one whom they neither wanted nor respected.
She knew she ought to tell Azhar of this conversation. She also knew it would be one more shovel full of sand dug from his grave, as he put it. Azhar had already had the benefit of her objective viewpoint in confirming one piece of bad news, she couldn’t bear to give him another. Besides, she could be wrong, couldn’t she? Her few words, their many hand gestures, she could have completely misinterpreted the whole thing.
When the time came—if the subject came up—then she would come clean, she promised herself. But right now, what Azhar needed, and she wanted desperately, was for him to forget he was a prince, and to remember that he was a man.
A man who could conjure this magical encampment into existence. Tonight, the lamps had been lit to welcome them. The fire had been re-laid. Julia pushed back her veil and slid down from her camel with a sigh of relief.
‘Azhar, I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this enchanting place,’ she said. ‘Knowing we are coming back to such luxurious comfort at the end of a long day makes all the difference. It was very thoughtful of you.’
‘Julia, if I’m being complete honest my motivation was not entirely selfless,’ he replied. ‘I did not wish to share your company with anyone else.’
‘If that is the case, then I am afraid I am very selfish too,’ she replied, ‘since I feel exactly the same way.’
‘Are you fatigued, Julia?’
‘No, I...’
‘Sore from the saddle, perhaps?’ Azhar asked. ‘Tired, in limbs and body?’
His smile was sinful. His sinfulness was infectious. ‘I think perhaps I am,’ Julia said.
‘Then go into the bathing tent, remove all of your clothes, and we will do something to remedy that.’
* * *
She assumed he intended for them to bathe together, since they had not done so the previous night, having become more than a little distracted. In the bathing tent, Julia lit the candles and hurriedly prepared herself, then equally hurriedly grabbed a clean drying cloth to cover her nudity. It was silly of her to be embarrassed, but she couldn’t bring herself to wait for him without any covering at all. Should she get into the water? He hadn’t said so, and she was under no obligation to do only what he asked, but—but she was most curious as to what he would request of her, so she gathered the thick cotton around her and sat on a velvet cushion.
She did not have to wait for long. Azhar’s eyes lit up when he entered the tent and saw her, but he made no move to touch her, instead he threw off his cloak and headdress and hurriedly pulled off his boots before arranging several of the huge cushions together into a makeshift divan. ‘You look like the most delightful gift, waiting to be unwrapped. In a way, that is exactly what you are—a gift from the gods. May I unwrap you?’ he asked, leading her over to the mound of cushions.
Blushing, she allowed him to remove the cloth, and was rewarded by Azhar’s sharp intake of breath. ‘You are quite, quite lovely,’ he said, running his hand slowly down her body, from her shoulder to her bottom. ‘Such delicate skin,’ he said, ‘like alabaster.’
Azhar kissed her. She kissed him back. The touch of her tongue on his brought an instant response, making his member stir against her. It thrilled her, that instant response. Julia leaned in closer, brushing her breasts against his chest, and kissed him again.
‘Not yet,’ Azhar said, dragging his mouth away, turning her away from him, easing her on to the cushions. ‘Before we sate our desire, we must ease your aches and pains.’
Julia lay on her tummy feeling extremely exposed and not a little confused. A rustling behind her told her that Azhar had removed his tunic. He moved her plait over her shoulder. Then he knelt down behind her and began to knead her shoulders. His hands were oiled. His touch was expert. The perfume in the oil began to suffuse the room as it was warmed by contact with her skin. Julia closed her eyes in ecstasy as he worked on the knots and tensions in her muscles that she hadn’t even been aware of. Her shoulders felt as if they were being unfurled. Her spine felt as if it was being loosened. She felt heavy and floaty at the same time. His thumbs worked into the knot at the base of her spine. More oil trickled on to her back, and then he began to work on her buttocks, building a very different kind of tension.
He was kneeling between her legs. She could feel the roughness of his thighs against hers, the whisper of his warm breath on her neck, the press of his erection, and all the time his hands sliding and slickly kneading her bottom, her flanks, the inside of her thighs, her bottom again. She was a mass of sensations, at the same time helpless to move and unwilling to move. He pulled her forward, tilting her upwards, and his hands slide between her legs, then inside her. The oil made her slippery, his fingers slid over her, into her, over her. She arched up against him, wanting more than his fingers this time, and he slid his hands up her sides then moved them underneath her to cup her breasts.
Julia moaned. Azhar kissed her neck. She slithered against him, her back to his chest, her buttocks on his thighs, the thick girth of his member sliding over her, though not inside her. She moaned again. ‘Azhar, please.’
His fingers deliciously tugging on her nipples roused her to an agony of wanting. His mouth on her ear, he whispered, ‘Are you sure, Julia?’
‘Desperately.’
He pulled her toward him, lifting her on to her knees before entering her. The combination of perfumed oil and her arousal made her slick, drawing him deep inside in one delightful, delicious movement. She clenched around him, holding him, wanting him deeper, fighting a primal urge to move.
He eased her further on to her knees and pushed higher inside her. Julia clenched and held him, shuddered as he eased himself slowly out, and then thrust again. Higher this time, and she held him again for agonising seconds. He was so thick. So hard. Another thrust. Another hold. Her climax was too close. She clenched everything.
‘Slower?’ Azhar said.
‘Slower,’ Julia agreed, though she had no idea how...
He lifted her on to his knees. She had no idea how he did that either, but she didn’t care. He was still inside her. Her bottom was pressed into his belly. His hands were on her breasts. She arched her back in response, and he buried his face in her neck. Her nipples tingled, ached, pulsed. She moaned in protest when he took his hands away to rest them on her waist.
‘Slowly,’ he whispered in her ear, moving fractionally inside her, encouraging her to lift herself just the merest amount. Pulsing. Slow, delightful pulsing. And then slow, delightful thrusting. His arm around her waist to hold her, his mouth on her neck, and inside her, throb and thrust, throb and thrust, until she could feel it, the tension, the growing sense of spiralling out of control, and Azhar slid his hand over her, adding a sliding, stroking finger to his thick, thrusting member, and Julia came so violently and so suddenly that she would have fallen forward if he had not held her, still stroking and sliding and thrusting, until he groaned deeply, his own climax taking him, lifting her free just in time to spend himself safely.
* * *
Later, they sat by the fire under the awning of the sleeping tent to dine. Above them the moon formed a hazy crescent, the brightness of the stars dimmed by a film of dust from a distant subsiding sandstorm that turned the sky grey-blue. The food was delicious, but Azhar had little appetite for it. The day had brought him no solace, indeed had only added further to his disquiet. Yesterday, he had been appalled by the idea that a man who held such a senior position of trust as the Chief Overseer did, a man whose very title commanded respect, could be corrupt. Today, even without the hard evidence he required, he had moved from suspicion to certainty. But his disquiet did not stop there. It was almost impossible to imagine that corruption of this magnitude could go undetected.
Unless it was condoned, by the only man with higher rank than a member of the Council. Azhar knew that. And Julia knew that too, though she had refrained from saying so. Which made Azhar feel rather sick. Julia was never slow to speak her mind, regardless of how it would be received by him and yet on this occasion she had bitten her tongue. He suspected it was not because she feared his reaction but because she felt sorry for him. Perhaps even pitied him.
He hoped against hope that his brother was not implicated. Even if it were true, technically the diamonds belonged to the crown, and the crown belonged to Kamal. Azhar pushed his plate to one side with a sigh of irritation. He was going around in circles to no avail. When he had firm proof, he would deal with it, but not until then.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ Julia, dressed in a simple green robe tied at the waist, had finished her plate of food and was looking at him with some concern.
Azhar shook his head.
‘There is no point in worrying about it,’ she said, displaying that annoying habit she had of seeing too far inside his head. ‘You will find evidence or you won’t, but there is nothing you can do about it tonight, save allow it to keep you awake.’
Her skin was flushed from the fire. The fire in his belly rekindled as he remembered their earlier lovemaking. ‘I have no intentions of sleeping,’ Azhar replied.
Julia smiled, a sinuous, feline smile. ‘I do have intentions,’ she said. ‘They don’t involve sleeping, but they do involve you.’
‘I hope they’re not good intentions.’
She laughed, pushing him on to his back and rolling on top of him. ‘Good or bad, you must decide for yourself.’
