Iris Johansen - The Treasure

“You’re not relaxed.” She could feel his arousal pressing against her, hard, demanding.

“I don’t have to be. You’ll recall, it’s vitally necessary that I’m not.”

His hands slipped down to cup her buttocks. “I’m going to lift you. Put your limbs about my hips.”

“Why-” She instinctively clasped him with her legs as he sank deep within her. Her eyes closed and she lost her breath. The sensation was tight, stretched, hot. “What a peculiar-” He was walking. She grabbed hold of him. “Where are-”

“Here.” He pressed her back against the tapestry. “Nasim can’t see here. Only straight ahead.”

Nasim. She should be grateful he couldn’t see, but she couldn’t seem to think. She was only aware of Kadar inside her and the soft tapestry against her buttocks.

And then she was aware of nothing but sensation, as Kadar began to lunge in and out of her with frantic force.

Need. More. Move.

She was making soft, frantic cries deep in her throat as the fever grew.

He reached between them, his thumb seeking, finding.

Her teeth bit into his shoulder to stifle a scream as his thumb pressed, teased, rotated. “Ah, you like it?”

She couldn’t answer. The muscles of her belly were tensing and releasing with every movement, and the tension was mounting, growing.

“Kadar, it’s-”

“I know.” His hand left her and he was driving harder, faster. “Let it go,” he said through his teeth. “I’m trying, but I don’t know if-”

Release. More fiery and climactic than anything that had gone before. She clutched him tighter. Tears streamed down her face.

“Good,” he gasped. “Oh, God.” He plunged to the quick.

She was vaguely aware of him shuddering, flexing within her, as she desperately held on to him.

His chest was laboring as he fought for breath. “Are you all right? Did I-hurt you?”

She didn’t know if she was all right or not. She felt as if she had been through a storm that had uprooted everything she knew and tossed it to the winds.

“Selene?”

“Not hurt. I’m-It was-”

“Hush. It will be fine soon.” He left her body and shifted his hold. He was carrying her toward the divan.

Softness beneath her. Kadar beside her, cradling her.

“Before it was pleasant,” she whispered. “That was not-pleasant. It felt-I was not myself. I didn’t know it would be like that.”

“No, pleasant isn’t the word. Much too tame.” He brushed his lips across hers. “But I think your pleasure was as intense as mine.”

Yes, it had been pleasure, she realized. The sensation had been so intense that it had been hard to identify. “Will it be like that again? Is that what you feel all the time?”

“The pleasure is deeper with you.” He cupped her breast. “But it will be like that again every time.”

“Then I can see why you rutted with every woman in Scotland.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad for your understanding.” He bent and ran his tongue over her nipple. “But I fear you’ve spoiled me for other women.”

Her breast was swelling beneath his touch and she could feel a tingling between her thighs. “Are we going to-”

“Soon. But the urgency is gone.” His fingers were delving between her thighs. “I thought we’d play a little first.”

“Play?” At Nicholas’s there was no play. The coupling she had watched was quick, brutal, and then the man left the house of women as if his partner no longer existed. “What are you going to-”

She arched upward with a cry as his fingers entered her and began to move. “You see?” Kadar whispered. “Play, Selene.”

“You’re very good at this,” Selene said drowsily as she cuddled closer. “I believe I approve of your apprenticeship at that house in Damascus.”

“I’m glad.” He brushed the top of her head with his lips. “At least one episode in my iniquitous past meets with your approval.”

“But just because I liked it doesn’t mean anything has changed. It merely makes this… tolerable.”

“Very tolerable.”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“I wouldn’t presume.”

A sudden thought struck her. Nasim. She had completely forgotten him. She glanced beyond Kadar’s shoulder at the tapestry. “Is he still there?”

“No, not for hours.”

She was indifferent, she realized in surprise. Kadar was right; by not allowing Nasim to matter, they had won a victory.

“How do you know?”

“I always feel when he’s near.”

That terrible dark bonding between them. “When we were coupling?”

“No, not then.” He chuckled. “I feel nothing but you.”

“That’s good.” She relaxed against him again. “Should we go now?”

“Not until dawn. Are you not comfortable?”

Too comfortable. She was enveloped in a lazy haze of contentment. Strange to remember how nervous and fearful she had been when they opened that door those many hours ago. “Is it that hashish that makes me feel so happy?”

“Partly.” His arm tightened around her. “Only partly.”

He meant it was also because they were together. She shook her head. “It doesn’t change-”

“Hush.” Two fingers touched her lips. “Rest now. I wish to show you one more road to pleasure before we leave here.”

“Another? I didn’t dream there were so many.”

“Did I forget to tell you of the whore from India who claimed that there were over a hundred ways of pleasure?”

“I think she lied. It’s not possible.” She yawned. “And I’m too tired.”

“Then sleep.” His voice was a deep, soothing murmur in her ear. “I’ll wake you at dawn.”

She nodded, nestling her cheek against his shoulder.

“Or before.” He whispered, “For she did not lie, Selene.”

“YOU LOOK… ROBUST.” Haroun tilted his head, studying her.

“Do I?” Selene moved her bishop.

“You have fine color. I cannot see how this foul place can so agree with you.” The “fine” color deepened. “It does not agree with me. I hate it.”

“So do I.”

She glanced up from the chessboard. “Has it been very hard for you these last weeks?”

“Not hard. You are kind, and Lord Kadar lets me go riding with him every day.” He bit his lower lip. “But it’s an evil place. I wish we could go home to Montdhu.”

Poor Haroun. Why had she not noticed his distress and been more sympathetic?

Foolish question. She had been aware of little going on around her. It was as if during the day she existed in a silken cocoon, sewing, spending time with Haroun, and… waiting.

Waiting for the moment when Kadar would hold out his hand and they would walk up the curving stairs.

When she would shed her gown and go into his arms.

When he would show her another way to pleasure.

“Lady Selene,” Haroun prompted, gazing at her in puzzlement. Oh, God, she must look as weak-kneed and meltingly soft as she felt. She hurriedly lowered her gaze to the chessboard. “Your move.”

“I already moved.”

“Oh, I see you did.” What was wrong with her? She felt as if she were seeing, feeling everything through a veil.

Everything but Kadar.

Kadar was holding out his hand.

“We should talk,” she said.

“Later. It’s almost nightfall.”

Nightfall. The tower. Pleasure.

Instinctively she rose to her feet.

He took her hand. “Come.”

He was smiling, but she could feel the tension in his body. It was as strong as the tension that gripped her own. Her breasts were swelling and the tingling between her thighs was beginning, although he had done nothing but touch her hand. Sometimes no touch at all was needed. He would look at her and she would be swept away in a storm of sensuality and anticipation.