Monarch of the Sands

‘Let’s rid ourselves of these damned clothes, shall we?’

Frankie’s heart was racing as he brushed his lips negligently over hers. Half of her was afraid to let him go—terrified that he might change his mind and decide that his wretched self-control was more important than this. But the old familiar nerves which she had been dreading had so far failed to make an appearance. ‘Oh, Zahid,’ she whispered. ‘Yes, please.’

With one movement and the swift gleam of a smile, he tore off his headdress—to reveal the familiar raven-blue gleam of his hair. ‘Lift up your arms,’ he said unsteadily.

Where were all those paralysing insecurities now? she wondered. Banished by the urgency of her desire for him, that was where. She did as he commanded, so that he was able to skim off her tunic, and then the silken trousers were removed in one fluid movement. She realised that her mediocre bra and panties were on show and that maybe this was the point where she should have felt self-conscious. Yet the hot look of approbation which glittered from his eyes made her thrill with a potent kind of pride and suddenly she forgot the fact that she was wearing chain-store underwear.

Impatiently, he pulled off his own clothing and suddenly Frankie felt a wave of shyness as she realised that he was completely naked beneath it. The robes fell to the ground in a whisper and her cheeks flamed as she saw the hard, lean body and the proud evidence of his arousal.

‘You like what you see?’ he murmured.

Too dazed to speak, she nodded her head, even though she was certainly no expert. But she liked what she saw in Zahid’s body—all burnished skin covering honed and powerful muscle. More importantly, she liked the man inside it—in spite of his outrageously outdated attitudes and cavalier air.

Her skin and her body felt as if they were on fire as, impatiently, he pushed aside a cashmere throw and drew her down onto the smooth, satin surface of the bed.

‘Zahid …’ She closed her eyes as he peeled off her bra and panties and brought her close to his naked body.

‘Mmm?’

‘It’s …’ His fingers were tiptoeing over her breasts—teasing the achingly aroused and puckered nipples and then letting his palms spread deliciously over them, covering them like a warm blanket.

‘What is it, anisah bahiya?’ he murmured. ‘Is it like a little piece of heaven that we have found here on earth?’

‘Yes, yes—that’s exactly it! Oh! Oh!’ Now his lips were on her breasts and his fingers were snaking their way down over her belly as the feeling of warmth grew into one of molten heat.

She should have felt shy when he touched her

where she most longed to be touched, but how could she be shy about entering the little piece of heaven he had so rightly described? And should she be touching him?

What would a man like Zahid expect from his lover?

Tentatively, her fingertips reached down to brush against his manhood. It felt like silk and steel, she thought, before her hand was swiftly removed from his flesh as if she had been caught pick-pocketing.

‘No, anisah,’ he murmured regretfully as he kissed each finger in turn. ‘Not this time—for you have made me so aroused that I do not trust myself. I am like a novice in your arms and if you touch me again like that, it will all be over.’ It was, he realised with a sudden start, the most intimate thing he had ever said to a woman. But his thoughts reminded him of one vital omission and he reached into the cabinet beside the bed to extract a condom, stroking it on with a strange and unmistakable reluctance. And there was a conversation he still needed to have with her …

He moved over her, his arousal pressing provocatively between her thighs, but he forced himself to say what he knew he owed her, even if it meant that the mood might be destroyed and the moment lost for ever.

‘Francesca …’

Her eyes fluttered open in question; she was terrified that he might be about to change his mind. ‘What?’

‘It is not the right time to say this—and yet if I wait, it will be too late.’

‘S-say what?’

‘You … you do not expect this to lead to something permanent?’ he questioned unevenly. ‘Because it can never be. You do realise that?’

Frankie stared up into the shifting shadows of his face, momentarily cursing his sense of timing. The heartbreaking words left her in no doubt of his feelings for her, but that didn’t change a thing. ‘Of course I don’t. I just want …’ What did she want? To feel as other women felt? To experience pleasure with a man she had always adored? Should she tell him the secret she had kept buttoned up inside her? She looked up at the bowed outline of his lips—so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face.

And if she told him, then what? Would he stop? Yes, she realised, with an instinct she instantly trusted. He would stop. Even if it took a supreme effort of will which would defeat most men—Zahid would somehow manage it.

‘What do you want, Francesca?’ he murmured.

No. She would not tell him. At least, not yet. ‘I want … you.’

‘Then you shall have me.’ His lips grazed hers as he moved over her, his fingers moving between her thighs to part her moist flesh in readiness. Grasping his manhood, he brushed provocatively against her honeyed heat. ‘You shall have me right … now.’

Urgently, he thrust inside her—but the warning bells rang too late. It happened before Zahid properly realised what was happening—before his disbelieving senses could piece together all the facts. The brief barrier. The momentary resistance to his deep thrust before he broke through into a place of such sweet, wet tightness that he groaned aloud. The tiny whimpering sound of pain she made confirmed his worst suspicions but by then it was too late and anger melded with passion and became an unstoppable mix.