The Sultan's Choice (10 page)

They reached her door and Sadiq opened it and stood back. Samia went through, childishly holding her breath as she passed Sadiq, so as not to breathe in that heady masculine scent. But it was no good, it was all around her.

‘Goodnight, Samia. You did well this evening.’

She looked up at him and only saw that shuttered expression he did so well. He was a different man from the one who had been kissing her into oblivion two minutes before. She had the sensation that she was seeing tantalising glimpses of another side to Sadiq just before he clammed up again.

She smiled ruefully. ‘It wasn’t as excruciatingly painful as I’d expected.’

‘See? I told you you’d have nothing to worry about.’

Nothing to worry about.
Samia let herself be moved into yet another contortion to make it easier for the women to paint the henna tattoos on her hands and feet. It was the day before the wedding and she’d been washed, waxed and buffed from head to toe. She’d also spent an hour studying Al-Omari wedding etiquette, and Sadiq’s chief aide had sat down with her
to go through the exact sequence of events over the next three days. It was mind-boggling and immensely complicated.

Tomorrow would be the civil ceremony, presided over by an official. Traditionally Samia should be kept apart from Sadiq during that ceremony, as they both declared their consent to marry, but he’d told her that they would do it together, and she appreciated that nod to a more modern custom. Afterwards there would be a huge celebratory banquet.

The day after that there would be a series of appearances and lesser banquets to welcome all their guests. And the third day would be the most westernised part of the proceedings, in which she would publicly marry Sadiq in a lavish gown watched by the world’s media. Followed by another sumptuous banquet and a ball.

Nothing to worry about.
And yet Samia had to concede that her apprehension levels had diminished hugely since she’d weathered the function last night. She knew half of that was due in part to her preoccupation with the man she was marrying, and she shivered a little when she thought again of that kiss last night.

Hours later it was dark outside, and Sadiq was sitting at his study desk with paperwork piled high as he attempted to clear it in preparation for the wedding and honeymoon. It was impossible, though. His thoughts kept straying to one person.

Sadiq had to concede that he could see how dynamic Samia might be as Queen. He’d seen her in action last night. After she’d let go of his arm with that death grip, she’d navigated the room with an innate ease which could only have come from her background and education. More than one person had come up to him and complimented him on his choice of bride, and he hadn’t been unaware of the surprise that he’d chosen someone so apparently modest and unassuming.

He’d watched how she’d put people at ease instantly with a light comment, and he’d prided himself on his initial instincts being correct. But, more than that, he’d felt
proud.
He’d also felt incredibly protective, knowing how nervous she was. But in the end she’d been quite content without him by her side, and that had left a dark emotion swirling in Sadiq’s gut—to think that she didn’t need him.

He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair, knowing he wouldn’t get anything else done tonight. Samia had been preparing all day for the wedding, and his mind automatically visualised her naked body stepping from a steaming perfumed bath. Cursing volubly because he was thinking of her
again,
Sadiq stood up to leave the room—but his eye fell on a box on his desk. He picked it up and, telling himself that he knew exactly what he was doing, went towards Samia’s rooms.

Samia was securing her dressing gown around her when she heard a knock on the door. Alia had just left, after making sure that she had everything laid out for the morning, so Samia approached the door with a smile, assuming it was her.

‘Did you forget some—? Oh. It’s you.’

Instantly a fine sweat seemed to break out over her skin when she saw Sadiq on the other side of the door, and she had to raise her eyeline. She felt extremely undressed in the flimsy silk night clothes.

In the same instant Sadiq silently cursed himself for coming here as he took in Samia’s attire and saw how the silk moulded lovingly to the curve of her waist and breasts. He could see the dark shadow of her cleavage, the faint pink of her skin, and arousal was painfully instant. Had he really deluded himself that he would just come here and hand over what he had in his hand and then leave again?

Something within him shifted, and mentally he stepped
over a line. There was no going back now. He simply didn’t have it in him to walk away from this woman.

Samia watched as some enigmatic expression crossed Sadiq’s face. She felt a flutter of excitement deep in the pit of her belly.

‘Can I come in?’

Samia knew she should say no and close the door in his face—for all sorts of reasons. And for all sorts of reasons she didn’t. She stepped back, responding helplessly to the feral glitter in his eyes.
Lord.

The door shut behind him and Sadiq held out a distinctive red and gold box. The new perfume. She looked from it to him and had a sudden fear of opening it. She reached out to take it, hoping he wouldn’t wait for her reaction, but he lifted it high so she couldn’t reach it.

Feeling utterly out of her depth, and trying to cling on to some sanity, fearing he was just toying with her, she said, ‘Sadiq, what do you want? I don’t think we’re meant to see each other the night before the wedding.’

She was very self-conscious of the henna tattoo snaking up her hands, arms, over her feet and ankles. Sadiq’s mouth curved in that slightly mocking smile she was coming to know so well.

‘Those romantic notions don’t apply to us.’

‘Of course not.’ As if she needed to be reminded. She looked down, afraid he’d see the quick dart of hurt in her chest, and then looked up again determined to make sure he was under no illusions that she harboured any such notions. ‘Don’t worry—I don’t believe in love. I’ve seen how it causes bitterness and destruction.’

‘Good. We’re in complete agreement on that score,’ Sadiq replied lightly, no expression on that harshly handsome face. ‘I wanted to give you this perfume before tomorrow.’

She quashed the lancing hurt that he’d agreed so readily
with her, but she couldn’t focus on that now. Her voice was far too breathless. ‘So why won’t you just give it to me then?’

His voice was like dark velvet. ‘Because I want to show you where to place it on your body to get the most potent effect.’

‘Sadiq …’ she protested weakly, watching as with one hand he reached out to untie the belt around her robe. Feeling drained of all energy but the one fizzing in her blood, she half-heartedly tried to stop him. He flicked her hands away. His long fingers moving against her belly made her sway slightly, as if drunk.

With an economy of movement the belt was undone, and Sadiq gave her dressing gown a gentle pull so that it fell to the floor with a swishing sound. Now Samia was standing before him in nothing but the matching negligee, which clung like a second skin. She might as well have been naked. As she watched his eyes drift down over her body the atmosphere around them crackled with electricity. Her nipples tightened and chafed against the lace of the bodice.

Sadiq lazily took the exquisite perfume bottle out of the box and put the box on a nearby table. Without taking his eyes from hers he opened the gold top and pulled her arm towards him, placing the open end of the bottle against the hammering pulse-point of her wrist. She felt the tiniest trickle of cool liquid and could imagine it turning to steam as it hit her hot skin.

Huskily he said, ‘Only a tiny amount is needed because it’s so potent.’

Before the smell even hit her nostrils she just knew. This time he’d got it exactly right. It was so light it was barely discernible, and yet within seconds of mingling with her skin and pulse it became headier—a faint rose scent, winding upwards around her body. It was like the late summers she remembered in England, when the air was saturated with
luxurious scents. Samia nearly closed her eyes and groaned out loud.

‘I think this is more you … no?’

Samia couldn’t speak. She just nodded, feeling very wobbly. Sadiq was placing some drops on the tip of his finger, and touching it to the pulse at the base of her neck, trailing that finger down over her breastbone and down farther to the cleavage between her breasts.

Samia brought up her hand to cover his and looked up at him, feeling wild with a reckless abandon and yet also not sure at all if she was ready for this. ‘Sadiq, wait … we shouldn’t …’

He arched that arrogant brow. ‘Who says? We’re our own masters, Samia. No one can tell us what to do. And I want you so badly it hurts.’

Blue eyes glittering almost feverishly, he brought the hand that covered his down and placed it over the throbbing heat of his erection. Samia looked down and saw her hand captured by his, touching him so intimately. The henna tattoo stood out like a brand, calling to her, saying,
Make this man yours.

She lifted her gaze with an effort and it was as if nothing else outside this room mattered—only the heat between them right now. Her own voice husky, she said, ‘I don’t really want to stop … I want you too.’

‘Good. Because I don’t think I would have had the strength to turn around and walk out that door.’

The evocative scent that he’d had made for her seemed to enhance the moment, and as if in a trance Samia watched Sadiq put the bottle down on a table. He came close to her, and somehow Samia realised that they’d moved nearer to the bed. The dim lights made Sadiq’s skin look golden olive. He was so beautiful he took her breath away. Completely on instinct
she reached up and put her hand to his jaw, feeling the texture of his lightly stubbled skin.

She felt a muscle tense against her palm, and then Sadiq took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, and said with such intensity that she melted all over,
‘Enough. ‘

S
ADIQ
brought her hand back down and placed it by her side. She saw him draw in a deep breath, and the thought that he had to exert control because of her made her blood sing. The thin spaghetti straps of her negligee felt incredibly flimsy as he pushed his finger under one and pulled it down her arm, and then did the same on the other side.

The thin material sank lower and lower, until it clung precariously to the fullest part of her breasts. With bated breath Samia watched Sadiq reach one finger to the valley of her cleavage to pull the material all the way down, wincing as it brushed over sensitive nipples.

She saw how the flush in his cheeks deepened, how his eyes glittered brightly. His voice was rough. ‘You’re so beautiful.’

For the first time Samia didn’t have an immediate reflex negative reaction. But the intensity of Sadiq’s expression made her come to her senses for a brief moment, and she knew she had to be honest with him before they went any further. He was reaching for her, and she stopped him by putting her hands on his. ‘There’s something I should tell you.’

‘Yes?’

She took a breath. ‘I’m not experienced.’

Sadiq smiled slightly. ‘I guessed as much when we were in London.’

Samia shook her head, a little stung to think that despite her efforts to appear experienced he’d still thought her inexperienced. ‘No, I mean I’m really not experienced.
At all.’

Sadiq frowned. ‘What are you saying?’

She cringed. He wasn’t making this easy for her. A tinge of bitterness crept into her voice. ‘I’m a virgin, Sadiq. A twenty-five-year-old virgin. Amazing as that might be to comprehend. Your analysis of my nunlike existence was accurate after all.’

Suddenly self-conscious, she pulled her nightdress back up over her breasts and turned around.

Sadiq looked at Samia’s back and reeled. A virgin. How was that even possible? But all he had to do was think back to how buttoned-up she’d been when he’d first met her and he had his answer. He suspected that somewhere along the way some idiot had added to the emotional decimation carried out by the person who had made her reluctant to look at herself in mirrors.

‘Who was he?’ he asked now.

One of Samia’s slim shoulders shrugged slightly. ‘Some guy in college who’d been sent on a dare by his friends to seduce the Princess.’

Rage burnt in Sadiq’s belly, and with it came a rush of something much more primal—triumphant, almost. She was his and she would be no one else’s.
Ever.
He put his hands to her shoulders and turned her around, tipping her chin up so she had to look at him.

The defiantly defensive look on her face made something inordinately protective move through him. She was like a kitten, showing sharp but ineffectual claws. He twisted a long strand of silky hair around his fingers and pulled her closer. ‘He was an idiot. Now … where were we?’

Sadiq had to steady his hands when he pulled the straps of her gown down again, baring those perfectly shaped breasts to his gaze. He was glad he knew she was a virgin, because he was so aroused that if he hadn’t known he might have hurt her.

The way that Sadiq was so easily accepting of her innocence made her confidence bloom. Samia revelled in the way he was looking at her—as if she were the only woman in the world. She blocked out the insidious voices pointing out that every woman who’d stood before him like this must have felt the same.

That heat was building again, and with a gentle tug her nightdress fell to her waist. Sadiq reached out and cupped her breasts, testing their weight and firmness, thumbs passing over hard nipples, making them pucker even more. Samia bit her lip.

Sadiq took her hand and led her to the bed, sitting down and pulling her between his legs. With his hands holding her firm he put his mouth to one breast and then the other, making helpless sounds of pleasure come from her mouth. Her head fell back, hair tickling the base of her spine, as Sadiq sucked the peaks to stinging arousal.

She felt him pull her gown down the rest of the way until it pooled on the ground, and now all she wore was a flimsy pair of silk panties. In a move so smooth she didn’t see it coming, he had Samia lying on her back on the bed, looking up at him and watching as he started to undress.

The dim light in the room highlighted his taut musculature as first his shirt came off and then his hands went to his belt. Samia sat up, her eyes drawn to the tantalising line of dark hair that led downwards underneath his trousers.

His hands stopped, and Samia heard him say, ‘I want you to do it.’

Feeling gauche and nervous, Samia came up on her knees
and reached out, very aware of the henna tattoo which snaked up her arms. What she was doing felt illicit, decadent and more exciting than anything she’d ever experienced in her life.

A rush of intense longing went through her. She was all fingers and thumbs on his belt, and then the buttons and zip but then she was pushing his trousers down over lean hips, taking his underwear with them, and his impressive erection sprang free, making Samia blanch suddenly. For a moment she wasn’t sure if she could do this, and doubt assailed her—the memory of baring herself before and being laughed at.

Worried, she looked up at him. ‘Sadiq, I—’

He put a finger to her lips. ‘Shh, don’t speak.’

Sadiq kicked his clothes off and came down on the bed beside her. They lay length to length beside each other, and Samia could feel the awesome power of that arousal against her belly. Instinctively she moved, seeking friction, wanting to assuage the ache between her legs. She loved the feel of his powerful body alongside hers, all hard muscle next to her softness.

He kissed her long and luxuriously, as if they had all the time in the world. His hand drifted down over her belly to her pants. He slid it underneath and his fingers found where she was so damp and hot.

She couldn’t move. She was boneless with desire as Sadiq’s fingers moved in and out, alternately going faster, making her back arch off the bed towards his hand, and then slower, making her mewl with a savage frustration she’d never known before.

He pulled her panties down until she kicked them off herself. Then Sadiq pushed her legs apart until they were splayed in wanton abandonment, but Samia had gone beyond embarrassment and shame. She was this man’s slave.

He slowly moved down her body, kissing his way until
he was between her legs. Samia’s breath stopped altogether as with his fingers he bared her totally to his mercy, licking her with such indecent intimacy that a hectic flush rose all over her body. But that was nothing compared to the wickedly indescribable pleasure he was giving her, his mouth finding that cluster of nerves and sucking with a rhythm that was resmorseless.

‘Sadiq, please … I can’t …’ Samia was barely coherent, her hips twitching uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure built and built, until Sadiq splayed a big hand on her belly, holding her down. He inserted a finger and Samia’s head was almost blown off. The waves came closer together, and at a rush of pleasure almost too intense to bear Samia’s entire body stilled, before falling into an ocean of exquisite aftershocks that racked every bone and cell.

Sadiq moved up over Samia’s supine body. Sweat beaded his brow. It had taken more restraint than he’d thought he had not to explode before now. Especially when he’d felt the tightness of her body and the contractions of her orgasm. He’d never known a woman to be so responsive. He’d always prided himself on being a good lover, but every woman he’d been with had somehow given the impression of holding something back—as if they were too aware of themselves to let go completely. But Samia held nothing back. She was unrestrained and wild.

To think that he’d once dismissed her as plain and conservative. The thought was laughable now as he took in her luscious curves, the flush on her rosy-tipped breasts and that glorious hair spread out around her head. A light sheen of perspiration made her skin glow. Her eyes were slumberous as she looked at him. With an ominous lurch in his chest he came over her and pressed a kiss to soft lips, loving the way she opened her mouth and sought his tongue, exploring his
mouth with a studied thoroughness that had him pulling back for fear of losing it completely.

Praying for control, he settled between her spread thighs and with extreme care slowly slid the engorged head of his erection along her wet folds. Samia moved her hips towards him, causing him to slip inside her a little, and he gritted his jaw.

‘Wait … I have to take this … slowly. I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘You won’t …’ Samia said the words but had no idea if he would or not. All she knew was that she wanted to be joined with this man in the most basic and primitive way.

With a groan, Sadiq thrust into Samia and at first she wondered what all the fuss about hurting her was about. And then he thrust again, and a more intense pain than she’d ever felt sent shockwaves to her brain. It was blinding and white-hot.

Instinctively recoiling from Sadiq’s heavy weight and that pain, she tried to pull back, while at the same time perversely not wanting to break the connection. She let out a small sound of agony she couldn’t hide.

‘I know …’ he soothed. ‘I’m sorry. It’ll hurt just for a bit.’

‘Sadiq …’ Samia sobbed in earnest, gripping his arms. The pain was intensifying. ‘I don’t know if I can—’

‘I know it hurts. But just trust me, okay?’

Eyes huge and watering, Samia looked up at him and nodded, biting her lip.

‘You need to try and relax,
habibti …
you’re so tight.’

The term of endearment struck her somewhere very vulnerable. Samia took a deep breath and concentrated on relaxing the muscles which even she could feel were like a vice around Sadiq. And when she did that she could feel the solid length of him slide a little deeper, as if something had given
way. Immediately, magically, the pain started to lessen, and she breathed out slowly on a shuddery breath.

‘Okay?’ Every sinew seemed to be pulled taut across Sadiq’s chest.

Overcome with a wave of something that felt suspiciously tender, Samia nodded and Sadiq kept going, with almost excruciating slowness, deeper and deeper, until Samia felt as if he’d touch her very heart. And then he slowly withdrew, until he was almost out completely. This time when he thrust in the tightness had eased a little more, and a tremor of pleasure skated along Samia’s nerve-endings. Relief was overwhelming, and she could feel her muscles relaxing even more.

She bent her legs, and Sadiq groaned as he buried himself inside her. He pressed a kiss to her mouth as he started up a slow, gentle rhythm in and out that made those tremors of pleasure turn into something much stronger.

Soon the pain was forgotten completely as she arched upwards and closer to Sadiq, chest to chest, relishing it when he slid so deep within her that she could feel no space between them. His pace quickened, his breathing grew unsteady and Samia could see the dark blush of colour staining his cheeks, the sweat on his brow.

Instinctively wrapping her legs around him, she couldn’t help a deep moan escape her lips as an incredibly pleasurable tension wound inside her. It built and built like the waves had before, only this was about ten times more intense. The feel of Sadiq’s powerful body moving in and out with such relentless precision finally made the tension snap, and Samia gripped him tight with her thighs as his body ground into hers and she felt the warm release of his seed inside her.

For a long moment, as the tremors of pleasure subsided in both their bodies, all that could be heard was ragged breathing and pounding hearts. Samia’s legs were wrapped tight
around Sadiq, binding him to her body. She loved everything about the feel of his heavy weight, on her and in her.

Eventually Sadiq moved and Samia had to let him go, reluctantly, wincing slightly as he extricated himself. He lay on his back beside her, eyes closed. Samia felt nakedly vulnerable and looked for a cover, but his voice stopped her.

‘Are you okay? Did you bleed?’ He sounded curiously detached, and it sent a sharp dart to Samia’s heart. She looked down blankly and saw that there was indeed some blood on the exquisite bedcover. An irrational wave of guilt washed over her, and embarrassment too. A cool wind seemed to be emanating from Sadiq and she wanted to be alone, to try and make sense of what had happened. One minute she’d been about to go to bed alone, and the next … she was no longer a virgin.

‘Yes, there’s some blood,’ she said quietly, moving to get off the bed. ‘I’ll get something to clean it.’

An arm held her back. ‘I’ll take care of it.’ His voice was gruff.

Sadiq got up and walked to the bathroom, switching on a light and effortlessly highlighting the supreme perfection of his physique. He was utterly unselfconscious as he disappeared, and then steam quickly filled up the cavernous bathroom. He’d obviously turned on the shower.

With a wince as she felt how tender she was, Samia got off the bed, picking up her discarded dressing gown. She pulled it on, tying it securely with a shaking hand, and picked up her panties and nightgown too, before hovering uncertainly. She didn’t know what to do.

Sadiq emerged from the bathroom again, steam billowing out behind him and as gloriously naked as the day he was born. Feeling absurdly embarrassed, Samia said stiffly, ‘Can you put some clothes on?’

She averted her eyes and heard his dry response. ‘It’s a bit late for that now, don’t you think?’

But she sighed with relief when she heard him pull up a zipper, and sneaked a look to see him finish buttoning his shirt. He picked up what she saw was a damp towel—presumably to clean the blood—and her heart beat unevenly.

She put out a hand, mortified that he was even still here, witnessing this. ‘Please, I’ll do that. You should go. I’m sure it wouldn’t look good to be found in my room on our wedding morning.’ She attempted to sound light. ‘It wasn’t in the etiquette book.’

It was only when Sadiq looked at Samia that he felt as if he was finally coming back to his senses. For a long moment he’d felt a little concussed. His brain numb after the onrush of too much … pleasure.