Zarif's Convenient Queen

‘And all the time in the world in which to enjoy them,’ Zarif murmured, pushing her slender thighs back at almost the same time as he lowered his head and swiped his tongue across her clitoris.

The sensation was so powerful that she almost shot off the bed in shock. ‘No...no, you can’t do that!’ she told him when she had found her breath again.

‘You’ll discover that I am naturally domineering in the bedroom,’ Zarif confessed without apology, his strong hands clamping to her hips to hold her in place for his attentions.

‘I’ve...I’ve just never quite...’ Ella mumbled unevenly.

‘But your body loves it and so do I,’ Zarif countered hungrily, marvelling that an experienced woman could have such an inhibition while he ran long fingers soothingly down the outside of her slender thighs to relax her tense muscles. ‘Close your eyes...I promise only pleasure, habibti.’

Afraid of making a fool of herself and entering into an undignified tussle, Ella shut her eyes tight, mentally willing herself to play it cool. She really didn’t want Zarif to know that she hadn’t done any of these things before. If he realised she was still a virgin he might then appreciate what a catastrophic effect he had had on her life three years earlier and her pride was too great to reveal the massive hurt he had unwittingly inflicted.

He teased the entrance to her body with gentle fingertips and she jerked, insanely conscious of where she needed to be touched and cringingly aware of how wet she was. He eased a finger into her and then lowered his head to tease her with his sensual mouth. Almost unbearable sensation engulfed Ella in a never-ending cascade. She no longer controlled herself; he controlled her. Her body hummed and jerked with constrained power like a race car at the starting line, raring to go. Excitement roared through every cell in her body, drowning all thought, closing out everything but what he was making her feel. The ripples of growing sensation soared to a peak and her back arched and she cried out while ripples of pleasure spread outward, making the pleasure last and draining every ounce of energy from her body.

‘I have no condoms here,’ Zarif groaned in frustration and he levered himself off the bed.

Ella blinked as she struggled to emerge from that frighteningly intense climax and suddenly reached out to close a hand over his before he could move out of reach. ‘I’m on the pill...it’s safe,’ she muttered, assuming it would be safe, then certain it was because she had, after all, been taking the mini pill for years to regulate her periods and surely all those years had to count for something.

For a split second, Zarif hesitated and then he came back to her with alacrity. ‘It’s a very long time since I had sex without a condom,’ he confided, pulling her close to his warm, musky male length, his erection pressing against her lower stomach. In that instant her hunger for him rose to such a height that she felt weak and dizzy with it.

‘You can be assured that I am clean and healthy,’ he murmured, studying her with scorching dark golden eyes fringed by quite ridiculously long black lashes. ‘And you?’

‘I’ve never had sex without a condom,’ Ella replied, trying not to laugh because, of course, she had never had sex at all but she was convinced he would not be able to tell the difference between her untried body and a more practised woman’s.

He captured her lips in a soul-shattering kiss and deep down inside her the tingling and the prickle of awakening heat and the awful aching emptiness began to fire her up afresh. He was so hot, she reflected helplessly, so hot that he made her crave him like a sunburn victim craved ice. She quivered below the hard, warm weight of his lean, powerful body, entranced by the intimacy but nervous of what the next step entailed, regardless of how much her body seemed to yearn for it.

He tilted her up to facilitate his entry and nudged at her entrance before pushing in, filling her completely and stilling to give her time to adjust.

‘You’re very small,’ Zarif husked, his black hair brushing her cheek. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

Ella was all bound up in the alien sensation of his intrusion in that wildly sensitive place and in the same moment he pulled back and then drove forward, thrusting into her with primal force. A strangled shriek of shocked pain escaped her and he froze over her.

‘What the hell?’ he breathed rawly, frowning down at her in consternation.

Ella gulped and regrouped. ‘It’s been a while for me,’ she told him weakly.

Ebony brows pleated, Zarif began to withdraw and her hands whipped up instinctively to close over his muscular forearms even as her hips lifted to contain him. ‘No, don’t stop,’ she protested, incredulous at the idea that he could go so far and then stop without letting her experience what she had ached to share only with him for so long.

That would be ano

ther rejection and just then she couldn’t face that prospect; no, not to be left with the suspicion that she was so much less than other women and so useless that she could not retain his interest even until the act was finished. She could not bear that her only sexual experience should end in failure and shame.

The muscles in his arms strained and Zarif groaned, fighting for control until the shift of her hips embraced him and sent him beyond the point of return. He sank deep and she was tight and hot and wet and he knew nothing else because much more basic instincts had taken over by then. His hands gripping her hips, he plunged right into the heated core of her with a shout of shuddering satisfaction. The slap of his flesh against hers joined with the sound of her sobbing breaths and helpless cries. He pushed her legs over his shoulders and drove hard into her tight sheath. She shuddered, feeling the gathering surge of excitement coalesce inside her again as he upped his tempo. It was all too much for her and as he slammed into her one last time she felt the hot blast of his release. Bucking wildly under him, her hips writhed as he thrust her into an indescribably powerful orgasm.

Afterwards the silence was so intense that the sound of her own breathing felt like a roar in her ears. Zarif settled her back down on the bed with care, resisting the urge to hold her close, and sprang off the bed at speed. He was feeling far too much all at once, too many thoughts screaming through his mind. He was shocked, appalled, drowning in guilt and regret. Snatching up his clothing, he began to get dressed.

‘So...that’s it, is it?’ Ella heard herself say limply, hurt winging through her in an enervating surge. ‘No cuddling afterwards?’

‘It would not alter what we just did,’ Zarif breathed curtly, brushing straight his robes with unsteady hands and heading for the doors that opened out onto the stairs down to the courtyard beyond, desperate for some fresh air and clarity of thought.

Ella’s body ached: she was sore. Strange how she had never suspected that the first occasion might hurt so much, she acknowledged numbly. So, of course, Zarif had guessed her deepest darkest secret. She had let the cat out of the bag herself. He was shocked. And he wasn’t pleased, of course he wasn’t. Clearly he had wanted an experienced lover to entertain him for a year, not a first-timer unfit for a repeat encounter or more carnal games.

* * *

Zarif came to an abrupt halt by the central fountain, which played its water in the shade of a clump of palm trees. A virgin. Ella had been a virgin and he had taken her with all the finesse of a rutting beast and naturally he had hurt her. He recalled how careful he had been as a newly married teenager with Azel in spite of his colossal ignorance and he recoiled in disgust at his lack of control with Ella. He had hurt her, wronged her... Was there to be no end to the mistakes he made with her?

In public life, Zarif had made very few mistakes. He was highly intelligent and naturally cautious and he had learned early how to think ahead and protect himself from missteps. A king couldn’t expect second chances, a king needed the support of his subjects and had to stay in touch with their prevailing mood to retain the right to rule. He knew for a fact in that instant that he was a better king than he was a husband.

But then, in truth, he had not been fit to touch an innocent woman in the first place and that inescapable awareness tormented him. She had stayed pure in a much more liberal culture than his own, setting a standard he had strikingly failed to follow. For so long he had blamed her for that reality because it had been her rejection that had sent him careening off the rails of restraint. Unbearable as it was to acknowledge, he had been weak where she had been strong. Shame drenched him like perspiration in the heat. He had tried to bring her down to his level by treating her like a sex object and he had failed. But why had she refused to take advantage of the escape clause he had offered her?