CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER FIVE
V IOLET TURNED THE key and stepped into the courtyard. Her heart hadn’t stopped hammering since their kiss. He was the first person she’d truly coveted—the first person she’d felt an actual need for.
As someone who’d practically brought herself up it was new and unfamiliar.
She’d felt looked after by him from that moment outside the nursing home.
More, she’d been completely herself.
She’d hidden her tears and upset from Grace, dragged out her happy smile for her old schoolfriends, and then, when Tanya had been such a cow...
Her children had run wild, Violet thought, looking at the table full of half-unwrapped gifts.
She was checking that her box didn’t rattle when her eyes caught sight of the most beautiful silver candelabra. As she went to pick it up she briefly wondered if it been secured somehow, because it barely moved, but then she realised she hadn’t been expecting it to be so heavy...
Gosh, it was beautiful—seriously so.
She stared at it closely. The parts that caught the wax were different colours—one silver, one a rosy gold.
She sat on the little bench, still holding the candelabra. She was excited for the night and the adventure ahead. Okay, and a teeny bit nervous, Violet admitted. And she felt suddenly shy as he came through the wooden door.
‘Running off with the silver?’ he teased.
‘I think my arm would fall off if I tried to run off with this.’
She both blushed and smiled, but his words hadn’t hurt or offended, and she hadn’t jumped as if she was being accused, as she so often did. Violet was simply pleased to see him.
‘I was just admiring it.’ She frowned then, remembering he’d said he’d bought them a candle stick. ‘Is this your gift?’
Sahir nodded. ‘It is...’ He paused. ‘Carter and I are working on a project together in Janana.’
‘So, this is from your country?’
‘Yes.’
‘Gosh.’ She went to hand it to him, but paused again to take in its absolute beauty. It was so solid, and yet so intricate. ‘This part is different,’ she said. She couldn’t stop staring. ‘The wax catcher. Perhaps they ran out of silver and had to use brass?’
It was rose gold, and the bobèches—or wax catchers, as Violet described them—depicted a full moon with Mars in opposition to the sun.
To Sahir’s surprise he wanted to share that with Violet—to sit on the bench and tell her about the Setarah collection, even to describe the palace, how it was shaped like a star.
She tried to hand it to him, but it was truly heavy, and she pulled a funny face as he took the weight.
‘Beats my tulip vase,’ she said as he replaced it on the table, and then she stood.
‘Here.’ He gave her his jacket and suggested that instead of walking out through the restaurant they leave by the rear exit.
‘Are you famous?’ she asked as they walked down a cobbled side street. ‘It’s all very cloak and dagger.’
‘In some circles.’ He nodded. ‘I guess you could say that.’
They walked along another beautiful street and then came to a gate. She looked at the very smart house that backed onto a formal garden as he punched a code into the gate.
‘You live here?’ she checked as they walked through the garden and he entered another security code, and another...
‘When we get in,’ he said, ‘if you just want a drink—’
‘If you send me home after a drink I’ll be extremely upset!’
She would—because for her whole life she’d been looked at as second rate. Sahir made her feel first rate.
Sahir would be her first.
Her eyes widened and then narrowed as she took in the size of his residence, frowning when she saw the dining table. ‘Are those the same candle—?’
‘Do you really want a tour?’ he asked.
‘No.’ She laughed as they stepped into the lounge and she pointed to a decanter. ‘But I’ll have a glass of that.’
‘Not if you’re staying,’ he said. ‘I want us both to remember this...every last moment.’
She thought she should feel shy, but it had faded, and there was not even a glimpse of it.
The light of the moon was streaming in through the French doors and she looked out at a glorious balcony.
‘Oh, my goodness...’ she said.
Under any other circumstance she would have been tempted to step out, for the view of London must be stunning from there...but as he came and stood behind her there was something rather more vital occupying her attention.
He removed his jacket from her and kissed her shoulder, as he had in the courtyard, and instead of opening the French doors she turned around.
‘Are you nervous?’ he asked.
She considered his question, then she turned clear blue eyes to him. ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m...’
She swallowed, because this felt so right, so perfect, that something told her it could only ever have been him. It was as if last weekend’s date and every dreadful date she’d walked away from before had been mere signposts that had turned her away and somehow led her to a place she felt she perfectly belonged.
‘I feel happy.’
‘So do I.’
He brought her back into his embrace, as if they were dancing again, though he pulled her closer than he previously had, and his cheek was next to hers. This time she allowed her skin to rest on his and breathed him in. She closed her eyes as his mouth moved as she had wanted it to on the dance floor. It created a warm path to her lips, and she parted them.
His kiss was different from the one in the courtyard. There, she had felt restraint...now it was warm and slow. She wasn’t fighting the feelings he evoked, just letting them ripple through her. Feeling the silk of his hair beneath her fingers and how her breasts ached as her arms reached behind him...how his hands on her hips guiding her in made her feel warm and aching down below.
So much so that she moaned into his mouth and briefly pulled back. ‘Turns out I do like kissing.’
He smiled and got back to her mouth, and just for a moment he lost concentration. For it had dawned on him that he hadn’t particularly been a fan of kissing either...
Or of feeling happy.
Until this night...
They stood staring at each other, mouths almost together, exchanging the sensual air. He touched the top of her arm and stroked it.
His touch made her hungry...it made her weak, it made her bold. She did something she never had before. She kissed his neck...ran her mouth over the scratchy throat that had been so smooth just hours ago. It made her desperate to see it dark and shadowed and rough in the morning.
‘Careful,’ he warned.
‘I don’t want to be careful,’ she whispered, breathing into his sexy ear.
He adored every word, every moment, every taste of her skin and the feel of her awakening to him. He loved feeling her desire building and, yes, he wanted to be her first.
There were not enough hours in the night to do all that he wanted, but he wanted more of that laughter, more of everything...
There would be no sleeping tonight.
He wanted her shoes on his floor. He wanted her earrings by his bed, her perfume on his pillow and traces of her everywhere.
Taking her hand, he led her to the principal bedroom.
The covers were turned back, the side lamps on, and he removed her earrings very carefully.
‘They’re not expensive,’ she said, because he was treating them with such care, placing them neatly by the bed.
And he wasn’t shy either, because he went to the bedside table and saw her swallow as he took out some condoms and then lifted the lid on a small container.
‘What’s that?’ she asked.
‘Oil.’
‘For me or you?’
‘Both.’
She dipped in her fingers and the fragrance was like every season condensed on her fingers, so subtle.
‘I don’t think I need it,’ she whispered, and he was aware of her own arousal. ‘And as for them...’ She pointed at the condoms. ‘I’m on the pill. Or do you always use them?’
‘Absolutely.’
There could be no chance of an unplanned pregnancy. He always wore a condom, to protect both himself and his partner.
Only this was something he had never encountered before.
A woman who wanted just him and just this.
So was it a kick of rebellion as he replaced the condoms in the drawer?
Or trust?
No, for he trusted no one.
And yet, here they stood, and he wanted every moment of this night, every inch of her naked skin.
He pulled her to him and found the little side zip of her dress.
‘Violet...’ he whispered—for, as she’d said the dress had been calling her, she had been calling to him all night.
It was pure silk, and it fell as such, and he loved her pale breasts and her little silver knickers. He removed them too, and then led her to a bedroom chair, where she sat, naked apart from her heels.
He removed his tie, and then his cufflinks. She was watching his every move intently. She reminded him of a little hawk, just learning to track.
She noted everything.
Every button and every glimpse of his chest made her own chest tighten.
He removed his shirt and Violet watched as his gorgeous chest was revealed. She felt her bottom lift a little from the chair.
He kicked off his shoes and then he came closer. He placed one foot on her thigh and wordlessly, wondrously, she rolled down the black sock, exposing one long, elegant foot even as his hand pulled all the pins from her hair. She stroked the coffee-coloured skin of the foot on her thigh and then he removed it.
She crossed her legs, as if it might somehow calm the now swollen flesh between her legs.
Sahir presented his second socked foot, and as she slipped the other sock off his hand was loosening her hair. Then the sole of his foot slid between her legs, prising her thighs apart as if he knew the turmoil she felt between them.
He was looking between her legs as he unbelted his trousers, then slipped down his zipper. She felt her legs pressing back together of their own volition—not to hide, just in unfamiliar tension—as he removed the last of his clothing and she saw him erect, saw the gorgeous dark silky hair. The excitement of his arousal made her weak...
‘Stay there,’ he said.
And she continued to sit as he knelt down and pulled her bottom to the edge of the chair. He stroked her whilst easing her legs further apart. She touched his broad shoulders a little tentatively, as if he might suddenly disappear.
‘Why aren’t I shy?’ she asked.
‘It’s just us...you don’t need to be.’
He kissed her breasts, and she felt nicely lazy as he ministered to each one, his tongue perfection in its light suction, the small nips of his teeth. And then his head trailed down, and she looked at her breasts, wet from his mouth and unfamiliar with their budded nipples.
Her stomach was kissed deeply, and she leant back in the hard chair and closed her eyes. Then she moaned as his fingers parted her and his tongue explored her and it was the nicest, most unhurried moment. She looked down and saw his black hair, felt the tension in his shoulders, while her legs were so limp that he easily lifted them over him.
‘I should do something...’
It was the vaguest ever offer to help—like offering to do the almost done dishes. Because she never wanted to move again. He ignored her anyway, just caressed her with his mouth, with his lips and his tongue.
‘Sahir...’ she said, sensation rippling through her.
His mouth was taking all the tension of the day, until it faded away with a sigh.
‘Oh...’
She smiled down at him, then closed her eyes, wishing there was a switch that might flip the chair so she could lie back, breathless and pleasure-filled...
But then he removed her legs from his shoulders and kissed her, his lips made shiny from her delectably gentle first orgasm. And then he held her chin and met her eyes.
‘You’re sure?’
‘More than sure...’
That said, she gulped when she looked at him. For she had thought him erect before, but he was even bigger now. Considerably. He held the tip to where she was still tender, stroking her, wetting her a little, and she watched, her thighs aching, her throat tight with anticipation.
‘We’ll go to bed,’ he said.
At first it seemed a helpful suggestion, and she nodded. ‘This chair’s not very—’
Only her words caught—for suddenly she didn’t want him to stop, and she forgot about hard chair backs and protruding arms and everything. She was entranced, just watching him nudge a little inside her.
‘Can we please stay here?’
He pulled her bottom a little closer to the edge, and she thought there was something heady about watching someone so strong and determined attempt and fail. Because as he hit resistance she tensed, and he careered a little to one side...
She reached down and felt the velvet of his skin, explored the veins. And then she just held him and stroked him.
‘Bed,’ he said.
But she liked them being here.
‘No,’ she insisted.
He closed a hand over her own, and as he nudged in again she couldn’t help but voice the pain.
When he pulled out there was a little blood on his thick tip.
‘Bed!’
Finally Violet agreed.
He scooped her up, and she had barely been lain down when he was over her. Violet’s eager arms reached for him, holding his face as they kissed.
Sahir kissed her harder, making her mouth hot and swollen. He made her tongue dance with his and she felt him hard against her stomach and her pubic bone, moving lower. She felt the crush of his body as he kissed her neck. And then for the first time in her life Violet felt adored.
Utterly looked-after.
The most looked-after she’d ever felt.
‘I am so glad it’s you,’ she said, putting her arms around his neck.
He answered in Arabic, and then his full lips hovered over her mouth. ‘I am honoured that it is me.’
And now he took her, smothering her cries with his mouth, but she was ready. And he pushed through the last resistance...found her stretched, ready and, oh, so willing flesh.
The grip of her had his breath shuddering as his body fought for restraint. He held himself still within her as he kissed her slowly, hearing her low, throaty entreaties.
He was beyond logic now, and he drove in, closing his eyes in brief cognisance that he was bedding a virgin.
And he was bedding her.
‘Sahir...’
She felt his hand slide to the small of her back, felt his stomach on hers, as if cradling the pressure within, as if absorbing it, giving her a moment to acclimatise, and when his mouth pulled back she watched his closed eyes open, knew they were both lost in themselves and yet so linked together.
He moved out a little and she pressed her lips tight, as if braced for the next push. She hummed as he slid in deeper, then nodded as he did the same again, only more precisely this time. Her thighs were shaking. Without intention she tried to wrap her legs around him—and promptly failed.
‘I’m so unfit,’ she admitted.
He laughed. She hadn’t heard him laugh in that way, and it was as low and as sexy as the man himself. He took her leg and pushed it back further, and she did the same with the other leg. He took her with hard thrusts that made her weak, this glimpse of unbridled need both exciting and thrilling her.
‘I want you wrapped around me,’ he told her, and her less than agile legs attempted to do it again.
Nothing could prise her off him now, because he thrust, and then thrust again, and there was another glimpse of him, a surge of rawness that had her wanting more, and they were locked together...
He felt her breasts against his chest, her legs tight around his hips and her hands in his hair. It wasn’t the smooth sex he was used to—it wasn’t anything he was used to...
Sahir pulled the pillow out from beneath her head, and Violet felt as if there might be no mattress—because she was in freefall.
She felt the wave of her second orgasm, not at all comparable to the little butterflies she’d felt whilst on the chair. It was all-consuming. Her legs slipped away, joined by the delicious sensation of him rigid for a second before he achieved his own release.
‘That was heavenly,’ Violet told him, and it would seem he agreed. Because he came down by her side and pulled her into him and they just caught their breath.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘About what?’
‘You’re not going to have major regrets?’
‘Gosh, no.’
She felt as if the world had been put right. As if her every last hang-up had been taken care of. Every fear about men, sex, life...all were vanquished, at least for now.
‘Though Grace must never, ever know.’
Violet let out a laugh that made him smile.
‘We’ll nod politely if we meet...’
Then she fell quiet.
Sahir was silent too.
Everything would be different when they next met, he knew.
Soon Grace would tell her of his royal status, or she’d find out for herself. Perhaps it was better that she heard that at least from him.
‘I have appointments tomorrow.’
‘I know...’ Violet sighed. ‘What time am I being kicked out?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Will we do it again?’
Sahir half laughed and pulled her closer, so her head was on his chest, and she lay there, feeling as contented as she ever had.
‘Tomorrow night I fly to Janana,’ he told her.
‘You said.’
She played with the gorgeous hair on his stomach. She loved lying relaxed and naked in his arms, half asleep and simply talking—it was another new adventure for Violet, and she loved the lulling of his low voice.
‘Carter does some work there?’ she checked.
‘Yes.’
‘Rebuilding some ancient palace.’ She stroked the lovely black hair. ‘Are you working on it with him?’
‘I am. I studied historical architecture.’
Her voice was sleepy, yet she didn’t want to give in, wanted every minute of their night. ‘Is that the same as what Carter does?’
‘No, he’s an architect.’
He thought of the years it had taken to get to this point with the project.
‘It’s a very ancient structure,’ he told her.
‘Mmm...’
‘One wing was destroyed in an earthquake more than a century ago. There are a lot of people opposed to disturbing the ruins.’
If she hushed him, he’d say no more, Sahir decided.
‘How come?’
‘Many were killed—including the then Queen.’
He felt her stir of interest, the way her thigh moved across him, how her head moved a little, as if her ears had pricked up in curiosity.
‘The King fell into deep grief...he killed himself a couple of weeks later.’
‘Goodness.’
‘There was a lot of turmoil in the country. A new king had to be appointed, with a whole new lineage. Rules were put in place so it could never happen again.’
‘You can’t prevent an earthquake.’
‘I mean rules to ensure that a king could never again jeopardise his country’s future because of his personal emotions.’
‘You can’t stop—’
‘There is no love allowed in a royal marriage.’ He stared at the ceiling. ‘It must be a purely business arrangement.’
‘Wow...’ She seemed to ponder that for a moment. ‘Are there bodies still buried in the ruins?’
‘No.’ He found that he’d smiled at her question, squeezed her arm in affectionate rebuke. ‘Your thoughts are very dark.’
‘Oh, yes.’
He felt her relax back into him.
‘So, what happens now?’ she asked.
‘We are waiting for the council to approve the plans.’
‘Well, if it’s anything like our local council...’
‘No!’ He gave a half-laugh. He knew she was teasing, yet she made the serious subject a little lighter, made him want to explain their curious ways.
Her breathing was slowing and her eyes were closing, he was sure, but then she jolted herself awake, and he wanted to make love to her all over again.
But first...
If he didn’t want her to hear it from Grace...
Sahir made himself say it.
‘The new wing of the palace is where I shall reside...’
He felt her jolt again, saw the raising of her head from his chest, and then he heard her question.
‘When?’
‘When I am King.’