* * *
Stephanie awoke to find herself held in the tight embrace of a soundly asleep Rafiq. His breath was soft on her neck. His arms were wrapped around her waist. Her bottom was curved into his groin. And his fully aroused manhood was snuggled against her bottom. It was the most delightful feeling. More intimate in a way than any lovemaking, and arousing in a drowsy, sleepy way. If she turned around, he would kiss her and they would make proper love. How wonderful it would be, to be woken in this way every morning.
Her eyes snapped open. She eased herself out from his embrace, grabbed her tunic and headed for the icy waters of the oasis. By the time Rafiq awoke, she had dressed and reminded herself very firmly that there were a strictly finite number of mornings left to her in Arabia. She wasn’t going to be waking up on any of them with Rafiq lying by her side again.
* * *
‘I have made a decision regarding the Sabr,’ Rafiq said, as she handed him a cup of the bitter, thick black coffee Mama had taught her to make. He was smiling. He made no mention of their night spent sleeping together. Perhaps like her, he thought it better to ignore it. Though that would be to assume he cared, as she did. Not that she did. Stephanie gave herself a little shake. ‘I know, you said at the horse fair that Bharym would compete and you expected to win.’
‘Yes, but it’s not the decision I was referring to.’
‘What, then?’
‘I’m going to compete in the Sabr myself. I will be Bharym’s rider.’
‘You!’
‘Don’t you think I am up to it?’
Stephanie threw her arms around him, knocking his coffee flying and toppling them both over backwards into the tent. ‘I can think of no one better suited, or qualified. When you first told me the story of the Sabr I pictured you on the back of one of your thoroughbreds, riding like the desert wind towards the finishing post.’
‘Bareback,’ Rafiq said, laughing.
She was sitting on top of him. He had washed, but he had not shaved. What was it she had been telling herself when she woke up? She had the logic all wrong. She shouldn’t be avoiding intimacy with Rafiq. What she should be doing was making the most of the opportunity while she could. She ran her palm over the rough hair on his chest. ‘Bareback. That will be quite a spectacle.’
Rafiq laughed again. She felt his chest rumbling. ‘I was referring to the horse, as well you know.’
She settled herself on top of him. ‘You slept with me last night.’
‘I didn’t intend to.’
‘I’m glad you did, I liked it.’ She leaned over, letting her hair tickle his face, and kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘I was thinking, there are only a dwindling number of days left, before I return to England.’
‘Four months is not an insignificant amount of time.’
‘If you intend to ride the Sabr, you will need to dedicate yourself to a rigorous training regime. There will be precious few opportunities for us to spend time together.’
When she kissed him again, he put his arms around her waist and pulled her down. ‘When you put it like that.’
‘Precisely. And there is the small matter of the promise you made me yesterday.’
‘I promised you kisses, and I am a man of my word.’ His beard was rough on her skin. It made his mouth seem so much softer in contrast. He slid his hand up her side, to cup her breast. ‘I did kiss you last night, but you didn’t wake up.’
‘You can’t have kissed me properly, else I would have.’
He teased her nipple into a peak. She could feel the ridge of his arousal between her legs. ‘Do you want me to kiss you properly now, Stephanie?’
‘Yes, I do, Rafiq,’ she whispered, nipping his ear. ‘I want you to kiss me very, very properly.’
He did. Pulling her on top of him, he kissed her. Rolling her on to her back he kissed her, and she kissed him back, pulling him against her, wrapping her legs around him. Wild kisses that lacked all the control of their other kisses, as they snatched at each other’s clothing, tearing buttons, tugging themselves free, kissing themselves naked.
His beard grazed the tender skin of her breasts, and she shuddered. He took her nipple in his mouth, tugging and teasing, making her moan. She arched under him, shuddering at the hard silky length of him between her legs. ‘Rafiq,’ she urged, clutching at the taut muscles of his buttocks.
‘Wait.’ He was breathless. His chest was heaving. ‘Wait.’
‘No.’ She pulled his mouth to hers again, savaging him with a kiss. ‘We’ve waited long enough.’
‘Stephanie, I want this to be—wait.’
‘I don’t want to wait, and I’m pretty sure that you don’t want to either.’ She smoothed his hair back from his brow and kissed him deeply. ‘I want to. I am very sure. I promise you. Very, very sure. Now, can we stop talking? Didn’t you tell me that actions—?’
He cut her words short with a kiss. Then he kissed his way down, to the valley between her breasts, to the dip of her stomach, licking into her navel, then down, but this time it was no slow wooing. This time he sensed her urgency. This time when he licked into her, it was not teasing, but purposeful. She forgot to protest that it wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t care whether it was his mouth or his tongue or his fingers which brought her straight to the edge, which made everything inside her tense, which sent her spinning out of control with a wild cry.
Then his mouth covered hers again. And his tongue touched hers. And finally he entered her, slowly, smoothly, the pulsing of her climax drawing him higher. She shuddered as he moved inside her, a slow withdrawal followed by a slow, delicious thrust back inside her. Another kiss. He slid his hands under her bottom, tilting her upwards, and she instinctively tightened her legs around his thighs. When he thrust into her this time, it was faster, higher, and this time she thrust back in rhythm, seeing the reaction on his face, feeling it inside her. She thought her release was over, but it was building again. She moaned, gripping his shoulders, kissing him urgently, sliding her legs up around his waist, moaning again when he slid higher, and again as she tightened around him, and again as his final thrust tilted her over the edge, sending him over too, pulling himself free of her with a harsh cry.
* * *
She was sprawled on a tangle of cushions and blankets. She was completely naked, and she was completely sated. She felt utterly wanton. Lying at her side, Rafiq looked just exactly as she felt, his eyes dark with passion, his cheeks slashed with colour, his chest heaving, his skin damp with sweat.
‘I am a harlot and a brazen hussy,’ Stephanie said, leaning over him to kiss him languorously. ‘I find it is a very delightful thing to be.’
Rafiq smiled. ‘Delightful,’ he said.
‘Was it? Truly?’
‘Stephanie. Truly.’
After the euphoria of their lovemaking, the melancholy that settled on her like a wet blanket took Stephanie unawares as they made their belated way back to the palace, leaving one of Rafiq’s army of invisible servants to retrieve the tent. She couldn’t understand it. She didn’t doubt that Rafiq had found the experience every bit as pleasurable as she. She had known it would be pleasurable, but she hadn’t dreamt it would be quite so—magical?
The