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“Circumstances make us do what has to be done.” Now she rubbed his hair sprinkled chest, one olive nipple.
He moaned with her touch. “I agree. You have to understand this is very foreign for them.”
“As it may be for you.” She dared him to admit it.
”True, but I have a certain awareness of different ways of living.” Her loose hair fell around her shoulders and caressed his back. Only under threat he’d confess how much he strained for her safety.
She tilted her head behind him. “It won’t hurt if your desert villagers learn a little of it too.” The cloth slid slow down his chest, following the narrow trail of soft wet hair, leading under the water. When she found his alert manhood, she started to ‘wash’ it, naughtily.
“Lucinda!” He groaned. “What are you doing?”
“Bathing you, of course.” She answered casually. And the cloth rose and fell. That body part reacted ever fierier. Rose and fell. It twitched. Rose and fell. It wept.
“Lucinda, please!” He murmured in agony. “The villagers are expecting us for the gathering.” This one would be special, he predicted, because of the last events.
“How unfortunate!” She mocked.
She continued his ‘bath’ and he closed his eyes, savouring her caresses. The washcloth gave special attention to his hardened tip. Tariq gulped air.
“Tariq.”
“Hm.”
“I was wondering…” Her other hand ‘washed’ his muscled thigh.
He gulped more air. “What?” He could barely speak now.
“You did…things to me with your mouth.” She’d left the cloth and had wrapped her hand around his stony shaft. Paused. And her hand started moving ever so slowly up and down its thick long length.
“Yes?” His voice hoarse.
“So I was wondering if I…can do the same.” Her hand moved up and down quicker.
A jolt of lightning took him over at the image of her kneeling before him with his flesh in her mouth. Blast, but she was a quick study! Her hand and his fantasies tortured him.
“Naturally.” He croaked, his hips pushing up, seeking release, his hard tip reaching the surface, standing proud and ready.
“Oh.” She said simply and stood up, a mischievous smile on her face.
“Lucinda!” Her name a demand.
“We have to go, you said.”
Damn woman! She played with fire! Later she’d see her actions ‘rewarded’, he promised himself.
Indeed, much later that night, he was the one rewarded with her ‘quick study’ methods.
Next day they hit the road early as usual. The sun merely up and the silhouette of the rocky hills in the horizon punctuated the sandy landscape. Lucinda admired the view as Tariq pulled the reins of her camel. They headed straight north now. Inexorably falling in love with the desert, she admitted. The vastness, the tawny shades tinted by the sun and coated by deep blue sky. The cool nights embroidered with millions of stars.
Or millions of kisses. The nights, oh, cool outside, steamy inside. Raw passion, melding bodies. The idea of the desert would always evoke the nights she spent in his arms. Who would blame her? She wasn’t made of stone and she discovered an inner earthy nature, which she didn’t regret at all. Their joining happened so searing that inwardly she knew how to respond to him. It came from how he made her feel, not from experience.
Lucinda yawned, as the camel rocked ahead. Not that she had slept a lot last night, or the night before, for that matter. The gathering in the village proved cheerful, with the women giving her a lot of attention and the men watching her surreptitiously. Men didn’t usually talk to women in public, unless they worked as vendors and buyers in a market, or some such. She sensed Tariq guarding her from a distance, he’d sat with the men’s group, his body tense, his eyes alert.
And when bedtime came, well, better not remember it. Her skin would revive every moment and end up craving more. As if she didn’t already.
A thunder of horse hooves, pounded behind them. Lucinda started and turned her head back. A group of face covered men. A cold shiver ran through her spine. The band of thieves.
They flew upon them in seconds, shouting, coming from behind the hills. Not a chance to escape. Camels rode much slower than horses, and, loaded with goods, they were heavier. The caravan halted at Tariq’s raised hand. His fingers tightened on her camel’s reins.
