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Lucinda’s guts churned with fear, without even noticing it, she clutched Tariq’s upper arms and hid her face on his wide muscled chest, covered by his white kaftan. Tariq held her tight against him, trying to reassure her.
The wind yowled and yowled a scaring sound, bringing a shower of sand with it. The air oppressively warm, they were immersed in a dark-grey atmosphere. Her only safe place was Tariq’s broad shoulders enveloped in soft cotton. She buried her face deeper in him and he embraced her tighter, his chin touching her silky hair.
The storm roared and blew outside with all its fury, flogging the flapping canvas mercilessly. The poor camel stamped its hooves and bellowed desperately. It threatened on and on, and Lucinda lost track of time.
Next moment an eerie stillness befell the surrounding desert, the storm passed as suddenly as it came. The world became silent, so silent she heard her own fast breathing. A greyish light still hovered outside, the camel quieted.
Lucinda lifted her head and tilted it back. Her eyes met Tariq. He looked down at her, intent. Her lips parted, her gaze frightened.
But Tariq continued to stare at her. Something in her eyes shifted, the fear vanished, her breath caught. A warm sensation spread in her body. Her eyes darkened. Mesmerised, her nipples pebbled, and a heaviness settled in her breasts.
Without a warning, his mouth fell on hers, invading, exploring, avid, demanding. His kiss unlike any other she’d experienced. The kiss of a man who wanted everything from her. And would have it. She would give it. Whatever he demanded was his to take. For she had no forces to resist for the life of her. His three-day stubble tickling her lips intensified her reactions to him. She followed him, kiss for kiss and reciprocated, gave all she had. Hot arrows crossed her body, making her franticly eager for higher levels of pleasure. Her hands slid from his chest to his sleek dark hair, so…so silky. She embroiled her fingers in it, revelling in its thick smoothness.
Tariq sank further in her mouth as he dreamed of doing with her body. Never so incandesced like this with a simple kiss. Not a kiss, no. An explosion of fire and craving. He held her tighter by her waist, her blanket falling to the ground. His other hand on her head, angling her for him. His tongue strolling, seeking, entangling with hers in a dance of give and take older than time.
He stretched his arms putting her a little away from him. Panting, breathless, they glared at each other, bewildered by what they did to each other. No thought thrived, no conjectures, no refrain. Their desire broke loose there and then, impetuously.
They stared foggily at one another. And their mouths glued again, for more searing kisses, their bodies touching everywhere now, desperately seeking satisfaction. It transcended any limits. Their minds blurred, their bodies embracing, their hearts racing. It was as if their souls and their blood entwined in a pulp of surrender.
He left her mouth to trail agonizing fire down her neck, putting the veil away, tickling her with his stubble, making her body gather lava in its core. She gasped and her hands caressed his muscled arms, chest, neck urgently. He moaned. His voluminous bulge sought attention on her belly and she imagined it might be what her traitorous body starved for so shamelessly.
The camel rumbled. The sound banned them from their trance-like, molten joining.
“Heavens, Lucinda!” He groaned in her ear. “What are you doing to me?”
In a haze, her head fell back, eyes closed. “No more than what you’re doing to me.” Her mutter breathy. The movement made his stub
ble graze her throat, driving him insane.
Hearing it from her must be perdition. His body ready for her, he wanted to take her, make her his. Hell and damnation! It wasn’t possible. “We aren’t supposed to be doing any of this!” He walked away from her. Her legs wobbled and her body leant on the rock, slack.
He looked at her leaning on the rock, messy veil, tunic marking all her hour-glass figure, lips parted, breathless. So sensuous, so…irresistible. In utter frustration, he raked his hand in his silky obsidian hair and rushed out of the shelter.
He loaded everything back on the camel as fast as possible; and they resumed their way, to use what remaining daylight they still had.
The sitting space of a camel wasn’t large. To be behind Tariq without touching him, with the camel’s sway, on top of that, virtually impossible. And he rode fast to reach camp before dark. Their lengths grazed helplessly and Lucinda had no ability to block the sensations her insides insisted in manifesting.
The ride advanced tense and silent. Each one with their own thoughts. Tired as she might be, Lucinda didn’t regret anything. Their kiss deflagrated as an outburst! If nothing else, this would be a memory she’d take back to England. A witness of something that would never happen to her again. Better this than nothing. Marriage and passion didn’t match, she understood it. When the time came, she’d accept a marriage offer and know it didn’t include passion. Or anything else for that matter.
By the time they arrived at camp, the last sun rays had been gone. Dinner ready and the tents in place. Too exhausted, she fell asleep soon after eating.
CHAPTER SIX
Tariq woke in the middle of the cool darkness with a sense of well-being foreign to him. Half-smiling, he came back to consciousness. His arms held her, and she snuggled against his chest, the perfume of sun on her glossy hair. He arranged her closer to him with a sense of…contentment. And fell back asleep.
Later into the night, it was Lucinda’s turn to wake up a find herself in Tariq’s arms. His now familiar manly scent entered her nostrils, and she sighed with pleasure. What harm could there be in laying in his arms like this? Let it be, she dismissed. Cocooned in his body she gave in to oblivion again.
When she woke in the morning, Tariq had been gone, as usual, the night shrouded in reveries.
Sexual frustration ate at him, he acknowledged, as the caravan neared the first village where he’d sell his goods and buy theirs to take with him. The night holding her wove in heaven and hell in a muddy mixture. So near her and yet, not able to touch her made his mood sour. He’d got to sleep out of sheer exhaustion, after the long ride and the sandstorm.
Fortunately, the caravan did not catch the storm, as it raided from east to west and didn’t hit where the caravan trailed.
He turned to his right side, where Lucinda rode on her camel, which reins he pulled. She appeared absent and immersed in her own thoughts, her veiled head turning, gazing the scenery. A desert princess sat on the saddle, he admired, a truthfully wanderer. This fact amazed him. He’d always thought English roses to be spoiled chits, full of ribbons and swooning. Not this one, by the looks of it. A sniff of pride surfaced to have her with him. What if it could be like this for a long time? He daydreamed.
Lucinda surveyed around as the desert unfolded before her. The days had been bearably warm, and the breeze mitigated the heat. Her tunic billowed, and her veil flapped behind her. At first, it caused strangeness at this foreign attire; the fabric thinner than what she wore in her country, with less layers. She’d felt almost naked in the beginning. But now, she’d got used to them. And pondered they hugged her much more comfortably, giving her freedom of movement and protection from the sun and wind she’d never realised possible. Or necessary for that matter. She wondered if she’d get re-used to wearing her formal dresses again.
The village came into view and Tariq pulled her reins, so their camels came abreast. “There will be no camp tonight, we’ll stay in the village.” He informed her.
