AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Oh yes!"
He hooked his leg around hers, anchoring her more firmly to his body as his fingers worked what could only be described as magic. One perfectly-placed circle of his thumb tipped her over the edge, sobbing his name.
He kissed the back of her neck. "Are you satisfied now, Princess?"
"Never!" she declared, then squeaked as his fingers moved within her once more, stroking passion-inflamed flesh to another irresistible climax. She bucked, but he held her firmly in his arms, intent on her pleasure, even as he ignored his own growing arousal digging into her back. "You want me. I can feel it."
He laughed softly. "I don't just want you. I love you, and I desire you so much it hurts. But the only pleasure I will take in your bed tonight is yours." Again, his fingers stroked her, finding her most intimate places and making them sing.
Until...until...
"Aladdin, oh, how I love you!" she screamed.
THIRTY-TWO
"Something has changed. You are not as dejected as you were yesterday," Gwandoya greeted Maram, eyeing her with suspicion.
No woman could be dejected after a night experiencing the magic Aladdin could work with his fingers. The thought of what he might do with the rest of his body and hers was more than a little distracting. Not to mention frustrating, for he refused to give her more yet. That's why she'd spent the day leafing through the scrolls and books among her mother's things, looking for more information on djinn enslavement. After all, her mother had been a witch, too, with powers as limited as Maram's own.
"I miss having a man in my bed," she said honestly. "I have decided it is time to look to the future, and what you can give me. I have no maidservants here, and I have not had a new gown in weeks!"
Gwandoya's eyebrows rose, but as she spoke more fervently about maids and gowns, the suspicion in his expression slipped away. The man almost smiled.
He clapped his hands. "This calls for a betrothal feast. Bring us plenty of food and wine, for we will need it while we discuss our wedding."
Amani bowed and disappeared. Off to get what Gwandoya had asked for, no doubt. And what she had asked for, too.
Maram braced herself for what would be the biggest negotiation of her life, as she and Gwandoya argued the terms of a marriage she had no intention of entering into. Servants and jewels, palaces and gowns – for Gwandoya boasted that Amani could build her a palace anywhere she wanted, made of anything she pleased.
In the middle of Maram's lengthy deliberation of whether to have a stone castle far in the north, surrounded by blackberry hedges, or a palace like this one overlooking the sea, Amani brought a jug of wine.
"The finest vintage from the Sultan's own vineyards, which have lain in his cellar for more than a century," Amani announced, pouring cups for them both.
Maram's eyes lit up. "Ooh, is this the wine I told you about?"
Amani bowed. "Yes, Princess, it is."
She sipped, and scrunched up her face. The opium tasted as bitter as she had expected. "It does have a bite to it. Keeping it in a cellar for a century must do that, I suppose. But there is no better wine to toast our union with." She lifted her cup. "To our health and happiness, my lord."
Gwandoya preened, probably at the unearned title. He lifted his own cup. "To our health and happiness indeed." He drained his cup, then smacked his lips appreciatively. "Tis strong stuff. Too strong for a woman, especially one who is about to become my obedient wife and bear my sons." He snatched up her cup and drained that, too, before commanding Amani to pour more for himself alone. "We shall start tonight."
Maram stared at him in shock. His calculating eyes regarded her over the rim of his cup as he gulped more wine, daring her to object. Obedience had been one of the things she'd traded for...something. If it meant he drank more of the drugged wine, then she would not argue. "Yes, my lord," she said, ducking her head in fake submission.
An idea struck her. "I have the perfect idea for my wedding gown. I would like seven layers of silk..." She described in excruciating detail one of the gowns she'd seen on the Queen of Beacon Isle, changing her mind about the colour only to return to the original shade as she saw Gwandoya's eyelids drooping.
Sleep, you mad bastard, she thought, pasting a smile on her face as she began a long debate about the merits of the exquisitely detailed painted shoes in Kasmirus compared to the silk slippers found in the bazaars closer to home.
"A good embroiderer can do just an intricate design with thread as a painter can with pigment, but there are few painters in Kasmirus who are talented enough any more. The royal family has a pair of christening shoes that have been in their family for generations, the most beautiful pair I have ever seen..."
Gwandoya's head flopped forward into a bowl of the bugs he liked so much.
"My lord?" she enquired. "Gwandoya?" She called his name several times, before gesturing for Amani to check him. She had no intention of touching him.
Amani eased Gwandoya's face out of the bowl and laid him on the floor. "He sleeps, but he still draws breath," Amani reported.
May heaven forgive her, but she had not been able to bring herself to kill the man, even with poison. Maram breathed out a sigh of relief. "Bring me the lamp."
Amani folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. "I cannot." His tone softened. "A new master of the lamp must take it from the old. I cannot choose who I serve."
