AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They ate the delightful food in a screaming silence. They didn’t ask each other what they’d done during the day and neither bothered volunteering it.
When they took the last bite, both stood from the low table. In silent agreement, they climbed the stairs to the bedroom.
Uneasy forced its way in Tariq. He had a notion he’d handled the circumstances this morning clumsily. Her recoiled behaviour only made him more aware of it. And, for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do. How to proceed. He wanted her. In his arms. Tonight. Now. Always. He’d been thinking of her all day, going about his tasks absently. Counted the minutes to be back home and hold her. While she seemed so distant.
Lucinda stood by the window looking blindly at the night over the ocean. Through the latticed work, points of light shone on distant ships in the sea. She sensed Tariq pace to her. A shiver of awareness cut through her. He placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Lucinda.” He whispered in his velvety voice, bending towards her right ear.
She nearly melted with the touch and the voice. Anger surfaced though. She hadn’t even noticed she became angry at him, at his peremptory conduct in the morning. She turned and stared him austerely in the eye. “I am not your slave!” her low voice containing her vexation. “And I’ll never be.” She stamped to the bed, took the blankets and left, without looking at him.
Tariq watched her exit amazed. He could deal with her temper because he had one too. Without thinking twice, he followed her. She’d entered the library and bent, arranging the blankets on the cushions.
He hauled her in his arms and they faced each other in fury. The unexpected movement shot a blaze of liquid fire in her.
“Put me down, you overbearing man!” She demanded between her teeth, trying vainly to hide her reaction.
He never did, of course. “No, you’re not my slave!” He stalked out. “You’re my woman and your place is in my bed!”
A lightning of sensation washed over her at his statement. The contact with his body, his voice tantalised her. “I’m nobody’s woman!” She rebelled.
He didn’t bother to answer it and continued marching, a purposeful glint in his cognac eyes. In the room, he stooped to deposit her on the bed and lay over her. His mouth captured hers in a domineering kiss that ignited her entire body.
She tried bravely to resist, palming her hands on his broad chest to push him away. His tongue plundered her mouth with tragic skill. Aware she couldn’t reward him for his wrong actions by acquiescing to his desires, she struggled not to succumb. But hopelessness sprinkled in her insides. Tremendously arduous to fight with him and with herself at the same time. A lost battle. As the combustion of his kisses spread, she moaned and her hands snaked up his shoulders to find refuge in his smooth obsidian hair. Her body slackened on the bed, becoming receptive to his. His arms laced behind her back and her legs cradled him in a scorching embrace, their bodies glued everywhere. And she was thoroughly defeated.
The heat of their locked bodies trespassed beyond the mere physical reaction. It took all of her. As if she melted on the inside, as well. Her body, her mind, her soul, everything she had dissolved in him, with him. She lost clear thought. She lost track of time. She lost herself.
They kissed each other with increasing hunger, in total surrender. Tariq became disoriented. This reaction to her so totally alien to him. He dived in a world where only she existed. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t stop. His ardent response overtook him so completely; it seemed he gave away a piece of his flesh, his sanity, his essence.
“Lucinda.” He lifted his head and sought her eyes in a haze. “It’s impossible to be away from you!” He grazed his day-stubble over her neck, making her skin prickle.
His velvety hot rumble like heated honey on her skin. “You bossy liar!” She breathed.
He nudged his painfully hard erection against her thighs. “This doesn’t lie, Lucinda!” He nipped her ear. “It always comes for you!” He flipped the short opening on her neckline, through which she dressed the tunic, and licked it. Impatiently, he tore her tunic, revealing her full avid breasts. “These things should have a front opening.” He complained, as his mouth ravened her breast as if in starvation.
The pleasure avalanched her so acute, Lucinda gasped, throwing her head back, her arms holding him there. His hand teased the other breast, worsening her agony. In a matter of seconds, they’d undressed each other in anxious haste. Ragged breaths, voracious mouths, molten kisses, desperate want took them by storm.
His expert fingers found her core and started a heavenly torment there as she widened her knees as much as she could. Her urgency for him ate at her. He continued the helpless torment to breaking point. She pulled him with her legs and their bodies joined in a long delectable stroke that left both breathless.
Her eagerness for him enthralled him. He lost the feeble control he still held. He thrust blindly as she sighed her escalating famine. His insides lacerated in a mess of emotions, reactions and desperation. They consumed him as if she’d thrown him in a furnace.
Lucinda was no better. She embraced him with her arms and legs, in excruciating abandonment, as pleasure, desire and something indefinable mixed in her, making her move in search for more of him. Then the cataclysmic explosion happened so suddenly, a cry escaped her lips, as she wrenched apart, in countless waves of paradisiacal release.
Her contractions began milking him and he found himself defenceless to go against it. His whole body twisted with the sharp outburst of pleasure, making him pour all he had in her, in between grunts. He fell on her, a wreck, spent and mitigated.
They sank in oblivious sleep, flesh still joined, exhausted. Those diaphanous curtains hanging around the bed cocooned them inside, floating with the sea breeze. The oil lamps threw a warm glow on their entangled bodies and blew off one by one along the night.
The morning sun drew latticed designs on the tiled floor in the room when Lucinda awoke. Tariq propped on his elbows, watching her. She looked at his cognac-against fire eyes in the morning light and stretched languid, shameless before his eyes. He didn’t miss a move.
“Good morning.” He wished in his velvety voice.
“Good morning.” She answered in a sleepy tone. “You’re still home.” It was late for him. He usually got up with the sun.
He took a silky lock of hair which had loosed from her messy tress and put it behind her ear. “Yes.” He said simply. Did she use the word home as if she deemed it her home too? He wondered. Did he want her to think of his villa as home? He bent and brushed her lips with his own, enjoying the smoothness. “Come, Scheherazade, let’s get out of bed.”
“Why the hurry?” She sat up brushing her tangled hair from her face.
“We’re going to the market, naturally.”
