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And I was. Why couldn’t he just give in to this?
I was clenching and unclenching in need, but he never put that beautiful, broad head of his cock inside me. He just kept stroking my hole with it in his hand.
“Oh Tariq, why can’t you just make love to me…”
He stopped moving and stared down at me. “Shh…you know why I can’t. We need to slow down. We have to stop.”
“What if I stroke myself? Like this.”
He groaned and tried again to get up, but I pulled him back down. “Stay with me,” I cried out. “At least give me that much.”
He did as I asked, reluctant and flushed as he watched every move I made. I couldn’t hold back any longer. Shutting my eyes, I strained against him and cried out so loudly I was afraid some of the guards might come in. I was spurting hot ejaculate onto my stomach and chest, and it still wasn’t enough. I wanted him inside me. I arched against him, in the throes of what felt like a seizure. I had come before, but never like this. This was extraordinary and I wondered if it was different because of how I felt about him. I wanted to get closer, to climb inside him if I could. He began surging against me at the same time and then suddenly collapsing over me, panting for breath. I could feel his hot come shoot between my legs.
He was heavy, but I never wanted him to move. Not ever. I wanted to stay this way, with him buried between my thighs forever. I was drowsy and half asleep, but I still wanted more. I glanced over at him and smiled.
I kissed his shoulder and then his back, making my way down his spine. He tasted so sweet I thought I’d never get enough. He was trembling when I reached my prize.
Though I’d never done anything like it before, I caressed his ass and gripped the cheeks to spread them wide. He pulled away then and scrambled to his feet.
“No! I have to go.”
And with those infuriating words, he turned his back on me and grabbed his clothing from the floor. Yanking it on, he left me there, seething. I turned over and buried my face in the pillow, upset all out of proportion. Tears had sprung to my eyes, and I dashed them angrily away. It was then the nausea hit, and I barely made it to the bathing room before losing every bit of what little supper I’d managed to eat. I sat on the cold, stone floor beside the toilet for a long time, sick and miserable, before finally getting back to my feet and splashing water in my face and rinsing my mouth. I barely made it to the bed, where I threw myself across the mattress and just lay there, hoping I was done being sick, because I didn’t think I could face that again.
Slowly, though, I began to feel a little better, and I pulled the coverlet over me and tried to sleep. I was so tired. What was I going to say to Tariq in the morning? I didn’t want him to remember our time together—which was drawing to a close—as me being a spoiled brat. Forcing myself on him. Then, at the idea that he’d have to “remember” me at all, the tears filled my eyes again. I pulled the pillow over, hugging it to me, and closed my eyes. Maybe things wouldn’t look so bleak in the morning.
Chapter Eleven
I was sick again when I woke up. The room was stifling hot, and sunshine was streaming in the windows. I made it to the toilet, but it was a close thing. Since there was little left in my stomach from the night before, it was mostly bile that came up, burning my throat and making me cough.
Again, I washed my face and brushed my teeth, and stumbled back toward the bed, feeling weak. Thinking I’d come down with some virus or other, I used the bell cord to ring for a servant and asked for hot tea and toasted, dry bread, like my omak always gave me when I was sick. I asked the servant to inform everyone that I was ill and fell back against the pillows.
It wasn’t ten minutes before my door opened and Tariq strode inside. He came straight over to the bed and felt my forehead with the back of his hand, which reminded me that he’d had a human omak too. I didn’t even question how he got in my room, because I felt far too miserable. He’d brought a physician with him, though, and the man fussed over me for a while with his instruments before declaring I had no infections. He gave me an injection for nausea, but I was actually beginning to feel a little better by then. When the servants brought my tea and toast, I managed to get some down and keep it there.
“Should I tell the prince that the reception should be postponed?”
“What? Oh, the meeting with the king this evening? No, I think I’ll be all right. It must have been something I ate that didn’t agree with me. I’m a bit better now.”
He gazed down at me and then nodded. “Stay in bed, then, and rest. I can stay with you, or…”
“No, I want to sleep a while longer. Can you open a window in here for me, though? It’s hot as four hells.”
He did, and then stood hesitantly by the door, as if not sure whether or not he should leave me.
“I’m just going to go back to sleep. I’m really tired,” I said, already yawning.
He left after a few more minutes, and I hardly even knew when he’d gone. I’d rarely been so exhausted, and I secretly thought that doctor didn’t know what he was talking about. I had to have picked something up since we’d arrived, or maybe even onboard the ship.
But when I woke up again, later in the afternoon, I felt fine again. I decided it must have been something I ate, after all, and went into the bathing room to draw a bath. I could have called for servants, but I never did that at home and saw no reason to start here on Loros. I took my time, soaking for a while and enjoying the steamy water. When I got out, I felt pretty good and pulled on a robe and went over to my wardrobe to select one of my new outfits to wear to the reception later.
I was still trying to decide when there was a quick knock on the door and Kalen came in to check on me.
“I’m glad to see you up and about. Tariq said you were ill this morning.”
“I’m much better now, thanks. I was just deciding what I should wear.”
“Hmm…” he said, looking at the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. “Wear the dark blue tunic—it goes well with your eyes.”
“The dark blue it is,” I said, pulling it out and putting it on the bed. The truth was, I didn’t much care about impressing this unfamiliar king. Unless it might make Tariq jealous… I quickly dismissed that unworthy thought and turned back to Kalen. “Tell me about this King Edam. Is he nice?”
