Life of my heart. One of the extravagant endearments that he’d lavished on her in the past.
Hearing it now nearly tipped her over into the abyss, made her wail, “Mohab...I can’t... Too much...”
Again he understood. Easing her onto her back, he rose above her, spreading her wider around his bulk as he lunged forward, letting her feel the rawness of the strength that could and had pulverized men twice her size, now leashed to become carnality and cherishing instead. He stretched her around his invasion and stilled, throbbing in her depths, his fiery eyes holding her streaming ones, until she was one exposed nerve ending.
“You are too much. Everything you are. Take me, Jala, all of me.” He withdrew as he talked, then rammed back into her.
As if this was his first thrust all over again, she shredded her larynx on a shriek. She dug her fingernails into his buttocks, wanting him to stab her to the heart, destroy her once and for all.
And he did.
She convulsed, stilled into a whiteout before everything detonated, wave after wave radiating from his driving manhood to raze her, reform her for the next sweep.
Then it shot beyond her ability to withstand. He’d joined her in this darkest ecstasy, roaring his completion, his orgasm boosting hers as surge after surge of his seed splashed into her womb, finishing her with delight...and desolation.
* * *
From the depths of satiation, Jala opened eyes that felt glued shut. Her breath hitched, and her body heated instantaneously as she found herself enveloped in him.
Mohab. As in all her dreams, as in those five months they’d been lovers. Curved around her, his legs encompassing her, his head propped on one hand, the other sweeping her in caresses, his eyes and lips radiating pure male satisfaction.
She reached out, ran numb fingertips down his beard. It was amazingly soft, just the right length to lose any stubbly feel. Just remembering how it had felt against her lips, against every inch of her, was enough to have her squirming with arousal again. Not to mention the feel of his hair as she’d binged on the freedom of twisting her hands in it and pulling on it.
“How long have I been out?” Her voice was thick and raspy. The voice of a woman who’d been savagely pleasured. She did feel gloriously sore, every cell shrieking with life.
“An hour or so,” he teased. “Watching you tumble into unconsciousness in the aftermath of my possession, then documenting your abandon to slumber, every inch flushed and drained with satiation...” He sighed deeply, rubbed his beard against her shoulder as he plastered her more securely to his length. “It remains the most fantastic sight I’ve ever seen. It is the most gratifying thing in the world, knowing that I can still knock you out with pleasure.”
“Anything I can do for your male ego,” she croaked.
He hugged her exuberantly before pulling back, his eyes turning serious. “Mine is all tied up in my ability to satisfy you, Jala. And now that I know for certain that this is something only I can do, I won’t let you fight our need anymore. We must and will be together.”
She closed her eyes, warding off the intensity in his.
It did nothing to reduce the brutality of temptation. She couldn’t resist him or her need for him. But she had to lay down limits before he swallowed her whole.
She opened her eyes. “As I just proved, I want you beyond my ability to resist. So I will be with you.”
He sat up, his eyes intent. “What do you mean...with me?”
“I’ll marry you. For those six months you proposed.”
Ten
It had been a torturous whirlwind since that night she’d surrendered to her need for Mohab and told him she’d take his original offer of a six-month marriage.
When she had, he’d brooded down at her for a long moment...then he’d proceeded to plunder her throughout the rest of the night...and morning.
That had been three weeks ago. Time had never passed so slowly. Or so fast.
And tonight was their wedding night.
Once Mohab had secured her agreement, he’d pushed for cutting short the intended three-month engagement. Now he knew he’d have a sure response from his uncle after their wedding, he wanted it as soon as possible. Especially since it was clear, after their one night together, that they’d have no more until they were officially married.
After their explosive reunion, they’d suddenly found themselves surrounded at all times. She suspected Kamal’s eyes in the palace had reported her nocturnal visit to Mohab, and to curtail the scandal that would surely ensue if it became known the princess of Judar was entering her intended’s bed prematurely, he’d conspired to keep them apart. Since Kamal had alluded to the fact that the anticipation before the ceremony invariably made the wedding night all the more...special, she was positive that her constant state of deprivation was her dastardly brother’s doing.
But maybe she shouldn’t be so impatient to start the marriage that would have her in Mohab’s bed again. Because once it did start, she’d start counting down the minutes to its end.
But knowing there would be nothing permanent between them, she’d already decided to take what she could of him, with him, hoard memories for the future. A future she’d always known would be empty, but would now be bleak.
Emptying a chest tight with futility, she forced burning eyes to take in the vista from her window. She wouldn’t let heartache dissolve into tears and face tonight with eyes that told its story. She had to play her part tonight, had to honor Mohab in front of his people, fill her temporary position as his bride and queen as best she could.
But even the land that felt untouched by time, being exposed to its ambiance of purity and the serenity that permeated it, failed to imbue her with any measure of calm.
Though this land had touched her on her most fundamental level from the moment she’d laid eyes on it, just like its most influential son had, she still regretted that she’d agreed when Mohab had insisted their wedding take place here.
Jareer. His ancestral land. Where he would become king tonight. And she’d become his queen. Temporarily.
Once she’d lost the right to be here, the memory of experiencing this place with him would be one more injury and loss to live with.
At Mohab’s insistence, Kamal had relinquished the right to have his sister’s wedding in Judar. He’d thoroughly approved of Mohab wanting to make her his—and Jareer’s—queen on the same night of his joloos, when he claimed the newly forged throne.
Since being this accommodating was so unlike Kamal, she’d teasingly accused him of letting Mohab walk all over him just so he’d end her long-lamented spinsterhood. Kamal had only teased back, “Of course, why else?”