“I guess the ancients hadn’t perfected the art of hosting,” Calla murmured. “These don’t even have garnishes.”
Fatim snorted with laughter, then bit into a slice of a dark barley bread. He chewed thoughtfully, then nodded. “This is good. Albeit slightly ugly.”
Calla giggled, and loaded up her own plate of ancient, ugly food. He watched as she tried a few things. He was thankful for the distraction of this tasting. He was trying his best to pretend that her confession two nights ago hadn’t happened. If he waited it out, the discomfort would recede to a dull roar, and then it would disappear altogether.
He was an expert at this—at avoiding feelings, at keeping people in their prescribed roles. He had to be, if he wanted to rule this tribal nation.
Besides, he couldn’t tell Calla he loved her, even though a very deep, dark part of him wanted to bring her into the most secret parts of him, let her see and poke around. She inspired that intimacy with him, and he both admired and feared it.
It was exactly that type of intimacy that led to problems down the line.
Problems like losing his footing or letting a country fall to pieces.
Still, the more they tasted and joked about the awful presentation of the food, debating on which things tasted best, the more he was drawn to her. As he always was. To the plump pinkness of her lips, the porcelain sheen of her cheeks, the sweet shyness in her voice whenever she looked to him for his thoughts.
And even though love needed to stay out of it, he certainly loved when she unraveled for him. When she let that shadowy, vixen side out to play.
“I can’t decide which ones we should eat for the gala,” Calla said, after having tried all the plates.
“I know,” Fatim said, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. His cock was hard as rock, pressing at the linen of his pants. She hadn’t noticed yet, but she was about to. “How about I just eat you instead?”
She cocked him a look that said come on. “Fatim—”
“I want to eat you right now, Calla.”
Her mouth parted, and he pushed his chair out before getting onto his knees in front of her. Her brow was a hard line. “What—“
He tugged her chair away from the table and then pushed her dress up until it bunched at her waist. Understanding softened her face.
“But you—” she began.
“I’m hungry for something this ancient menu doesn’t have,” he murmured, skipping kisses up her inner thigh. He brushed his thumb against the crotch of her panties, and he found her damp and wanting him. He took a healthy bite of the inside of her thigh, and she shivered, melting back against the chair.
“Fine, but I can’t be a part of the final menu,” she teased weakly.
“Oh no,” he said, tugging her panties down and over her ankles. “This is a special menu item just for me.”
He dove in before she could even respond, his tongue finding the smooth, slick crease of her pussy. She moaned low as he sought out the hard nub of her clit, kissi
ng and licking and prodding her with his tongue until she was trembling in his arms and crying out.
“Fatiiim,” she moaned, like a warning.
He pushed a finger inside her, finding her slick and hungry, clenching at his finger as if she needed him. And that’s what he wanted. He wanted her juicy and needing him. He eased in a second finger and then a third, fingerfucking her as he lavished attention on her throbbing clit.
Calla didn’t last long. She knotted her fingers in his hair, and a strange squeak escaped her. Thighs locked around his head like a vice. And then her whole body jolted, like an electric shock, and she arched her back.
“Ohhhh, Fatiiim,” she moaned, shudders wracking her body. He didn’t let up until he was sure he’d drained every last dreg of pleasure from her body. And then he sat back, beholding the expression of pure, sated pleasure on her face. She wilted into the chair.
“Mmmm.” He kissed the inside of her knee, then came to standing. He was still hard as a rock, but after her confession the other night, he thought proper sex should stay off the table for a while.
It didn’t mean other things couldn’t happen. But their sex was explosive, and it was too good. It even got him thinking wild things, and he knew better than to consciously indulge in that.
“Now that you have a clear head,” Fatim said, reaching for the phone he’d left on the dinner table, “I trust you can make the final selection of the plates.” He cast her a devilish grin before he started toward the door. “You already know my favorite, though. The one thing that’s not on the menu.”
16
A week later and Calla had formally recruited Nara to help with the gala planning. The girl was so curious about the party and just couldn’t stop coming up with fantastical ideas for the event. Calla figured this was a way to help the girl find her voice, so she allowed Nara to shadow her on the days when it made sense.