Authors: Kylie Knight
He shivered at the promise of it.
Her mouth lingered at the hollow of his throat, a hairsbreadth away, enticing and promising. For a moment, they stayed as they were, wrapped up in each other’s arms, both aware that what they were doing was wrong from the gaze of an outsider. But in their own two hearts, beating in time as one, they knew it was right.
And when that realization came, that acceptance, Clarice closed the gap and pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss against his neck that sent flames of heat licking up and down his body. His muscles tensed, his body shivered, and all he could do was crave more.
That small, slow touch was all it took to send Farhid rolling into the throes of pleasure. He needed her now and there was no more waiting, not for him, not for this.
His hand found her cheek and jerked her face to his, his mouth falling upon her in a fierce, passionate kiss that promised he needed so much more to her than that kiss. And yet, he kissed as though that was all he had ever needed.
His full lips parted and out slid his tongue, sliding along the line of her mouth, coaxing it open so that he might explore within. She tasted of sweetness, like chocolate, and bitterness like coffee. Her flavor was smooth and washed over his taste buds like a delicacy. One he was finding himself craving more and more of.
One hand was still fastened tightly about her waist, holding her to him, as the other stroked her cheek gently, reminding her that whatever his devouring passion might be, he would also be sweet and tender.
Her own hands clutched at him. At first, he thought she was merely trembling with need and uncertainty, but then he realized that she was working. Her slender little fingers were undoing the buttons of his shirt, working as quickly as humanly possible, until he felt the heat of her body more acutely as the material covering his chest released him.
He felt her touch immediately following, her delicate hands caressing the defined muscles of his chest as she touched whatever she could reach of him. She tugged her nails lightly down his body, not enough to leave marks but enough that he could feel her.
Their kiss broke so that she could suck in a rush of desperately needed air, but he was still lost in his cravings. His mouth trailed down her neck, kissing and nipping at her. “Clarice,” he breathed against her neck, and she groaned.
He was desperate for her. No longer interested in slowness or in waiting, his hands moved down her body until they found the full curve of her hips. There they moved around to grip her behind, hoisting her up off the floor.
She gave a quick cry, but didn’t protest, and her legs wrapped automatically around his middle. He carried her like that to his luxurious bed, kissing her neck and whispering sweet nothings in her ear the entire way.
When they reached the plush surface, he laid her down gently, cradling her head attentively until the softness enveloped her. Slowly, he took the time to explore her body. His hands caressed the outline of her hourglass body, slowly and carefully, aware that her dress still clung to her and covered most of what he wished terribly to see. And to touch.
Still, he took his time. He caressed her. He kissed at what skin he could find. He whispered to her breast as though he could speak directly to her heart and she shuddered beneath him, her back arching.
That was when he finally pulled down the zipper at the side of her red dress and tugged at it. He pulled it down from the top, exposing her large breasts, milky white with tiny nipples that were a dusky pink. He kissed each one reverently, listening to her sighs as they grew breathy and urgent. The dress came down further, exposing her slender waist and her navel. He kissed down the line of her body, his tongue dipping into her bellybutton briefly before moving farther down.
When he tugged the dress past her hips, the rest shimmied off quickly, pooling in a heap of shimmery material at the base of the bed. All that was left were her panties, a lacy red to match her dress, making him wonder if she had intended for him to see them, or at the very least wanted him to.
“Please,” she breathed, and he knew that she definitely wanted him.
Resisting the urge to simply tear off her panties and fiercely claim her as his, he put his trembling hands on her hips. His fingers found the hem of her panties and he watched her suck in a sharp breath.
Licking his lips, he tugged them down, inch by inch, pulling them off her hips and lower until her soft, sweet lips were exposed.
He jerked her underwear the rest of the way off then, so that she was naked completely before him. He breathed in her musky scent before settling his mouth between her thighs. His tongue flicked out and slid against her moist folds. She jerked, her hips lifting slightly and her muscles tensing as she cried out, “Yes!”
He tasted her for a long while, moving his tongue easily within her and then laving gently at the edges of her lips again. It must have been a slow torture for her, because he would never quite bring her true release and satisfaction.
He needed that to come later, when he was buried inside of her. He wanted to feel her as she came undone.
After a final flick of his tongue along her sweet lips, he pulled away. She groaned at the loss of him, making him smirk, but he didn’t return. Not yet. He stood, tugging his shirt the rest of the way off and allowing it to fall to the floor. Then he went to his trousers. He undid the belt and the button, then pulled down the zipper. Eyes locked on Clarice, he let his pants fall to the floor, exposing his bare body.
He went to her then, crawling over her body onto the bed until they were aligned. Her breath caught. His eyes bored into hers.
Without words, he asked if she wanted this and without words, she answered yes.
Then he sheathed himself within her warm folds, burying himself inside of her until their hips pressed together and she gasped, a strangled sound that might have been his name. She clutched around him and he groaned as he began to thrust.
His body responded to her as he knew it would, but his heart, it too soared and beat as though this moment were all it had ever been waiting for.
This was it.
He pressed his face into her neck, showered her with reverent kisses and whispered to her sweet words that maybe she didn’t know the meanings of, but could understand the emotions laced within them.
She clung to him as he entered her body repeatedly, his length filling her completely, and when the fire became too much they both allowed themselves to fall into it. She cried out his name and he whispered hers as he finished himself inside of her, wishing that every day might be filled with moments of her.
Chapter Nine
Sometimes things just fall into place. That was Clarice’s thought as she sat in the silky bathrobe that belonged to the hotel. It was the following day and Clarice had decided that she was going to spend it, just like the last one, with Farhid Kanaan, the man she was very quickly falling in love with.
Part of her was still resistant to it. This was a mistake, that part whispered to her. Didn’t she remember how things had gone with Donald, the man she was quickly starting to think of as her first husband?
But even with this thoughts swimming through her head, she couldn’t shake the undeniable attraction she felt to Farhid.
It was difficult, because it was all happening so quickly and because she knew they were both married, but she couldn’t help the fondness she felt for him. It was nice to be noticed, to be adored. What woman wouldn’t want that?
Clarice sipped at the coffee in her mug, staring out over the balcony towards the city beneath her. Once again, she thought it was beautiful, a tiny little model of the actual city, one she could keep in her pocket.
The shower was running and Farhid had just stepped in. They had spent much of the day yesterday wrapped in each other’s arms. Sometimes it was merely a sweet embrace. Sometimes it was the heated passions of lovers. By the time night rolled around and Farhid asked with her to spend it with him, she couldn’t think of a reason to say no.
She bit her lip. She was finding fewer and fewer reasons to say no to Farhid.
There was a deep humming coming from the bathroom and Clarice realized it was Farhid. She listened to him for a moment before making a decision. Smiling to herself, she put down her coffee and headed inside.
She made her way into the bathroom and undid her robe, letting it fall to the floor behind her. She was naked beneath.
Pulling back the curtain, Clarice stepped into the shower behind him. He didn’t look at her, but he had to know she was there. He continued to hum. She grabbed some soap and lathered it in her hand, then she slid them along Farhid’s wet body. She started with his back, smoothing her hands over it, washing his firm muscles and his broad shoulders. Then she let her hands slip lower. She washed his firm buttocks and then finally slid her hands around his hips.
When she found him already half hard, she smiled to herself and allowed her right hand to wrap around his firm shaft. He groaned at her touch and as she began to pump his member, he breathed her name.
“My love,” he said, “I want more.”
And that was all it took. He moved her under the spray, letting water run in rivulets down her body, her hair growing dark as it grew wet and stuck to her in delicate little snakelike patters across her bare skin.
He moved to stand behind her and her hands went to the tiled wall automatically. His hands on her hips, he guided himself between her legs. When he entered her, Clarice gave a soft cry, relishing the full feeling of him buried within her. He gave her only a moment to adjust, and then he was thrusting. Slow, but needy. And when he came, he held her close, his arms wrapped around her and begged her, “Stay with me.”
***
Clarice dried her hair as Farhid dressed. She only had her dress from the previous day—something that was a little inappropriate, all things considered, though she didn’t regret wearing it—and so she told him that they needed to stop by her apartment.
“You could simply wear nothing for the rest of the day,” Farhid offered her with a smile and a wink.
She laughed at him and shook her head. “Tempting, but if we’re going to go anywhere or do anything, I want to be able to wear something.”
He sighed, then asked a little more seriously, “Will your husband be there?”
Clarice frowned. It had been a while since she’d given much consideration to Donald. Their lovers tryst had sufficiently distracted her—and made her feel alive again—but reality again returned. She would have to do something about Donald.
Perhaps Farhid had no intention of leaving Djamila. Clarice hoped otherwise, because she could not continue this way indefinitely with a married man, but whatever his choice, she knew that hers was already made.
She would have to leave Donald.
It was going to be a difficult conversation, though not for the reasons it should have been. There was no love between them, she was sure, but that didn’t mean that Donald wasn’t possessive. He didn’t love her, but he wasn’t willing to give her up. She was his and he would want to keep it that way, regardless of her happiness.
“Clarice?”
She blinked and looked up at Farhid. He was fully dressed now and looking at her with concern. She forced a smile and said, “He won’t be there. He’s in California.”
Farhid nodded and they left, Clarice still wearing the sexy, slinky red dress from the previous day.
When they arrived at the apartment, Clarice was entirely careless. She didn’t have a reason for why she’d been out, an explanation for the dress, or for Farhid. Why would she need one? Donald wasn’t supposed to be home.
But he was.
“Clarice, where have you—?” Donald stopped midsentence as soon as he saw Farhid walking in behind Clarice.
All of the blood rushed from Clarice’s face and for just a moment, she felt faint. “I thought you were in California,” she said stupidly.
Donald glanced from her—in her sexy red dress—to Farhid standing possessively close to Clarice and glowering at Donald.
“Who the hell is he?” Donald demanded, his voice rising in anger.
Farhid stepped forward, putting himself between Clarice and Donald. She clutched at his arm, whispering a quiet “don’t.” But Farhid didn’t hit Donald. Instead, he said, “I am Prince Farhid Kanaan and I am the man who loves your wife. She will leave you—today—and return home with me. Whatever happens thereafter is not of your concern. I will send you the paperwork immediately.”
Clarice stared at him wide-eyed. Donald said something crass and Farhid retorted, but she wasn’t listening anymore. All she heard were Farhid’s words, promises that she would return with him, that he wanted her by his side in a far more permanent matter. He wanted her to keep.
“You’re really going to take me with you?” Clarice whispered, oblivious to Donald’s raging voice, his yelling and the throwing of vases.
Farhid nodded to Clarice, smiling at her sweetly as he caressed her cheek gently. “I am, should you have me.”
“What… what about Djamila?”
He shook his head. “Our marriage is one of convenience. When we return, I shall confront my father and explain to him that you are the woman I love. He cannot deny me that happiness.”
She was so happy that she hugged him fiercely. When they kissed, it was the hope of two lovers who had found each other despite the obstacles presented to them. They kissed like it was their last first kiss.