“I feel the same, like I’m some kind of sex addict, thinking about you all the time. Is it always like this?” she asked, stroking him with a light grip. “I’ve never felt so greedy about anything. Sometimes I might think, ‘oh, that man is handsome,’ or something like that, but I’ve never wanted to—” Take a man with my mouth.
She really wanted to do that. He was covering her hand, teaching her how he liked to be stroked. As she found the rhythm, she searched out his flat nipple with her mouth. It was a bold move, but that’s what he’d done to her and she’d loved it. Surely he would, too?
He cupped the back of her head, then tilted her up for his kiss. She let him have the lead for a while, but he was so steely and aroused. So intriguing. All she could think about was owning him the way he had taken possession of her.
“I want to do something,” she whispered as she pulled away and pressed his shoulder so he was flat on his back.
As she slid down his body, he went hard all over, like he was made of marble. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to. Tell me how to make it good.”
“It’s already good.”
She laughed. “I’m not there yet.”
“I know, but it’s still great,” he whispered, making her smile as she touched her lips to his hot, velvety shape.
* * *
Zafir had one foot in heaven, one in hell.
He counted the daylight hours until he could go to Fern, and cursed when the sun arrived, extinguishing another night with her. When he picked up the message relayed from base camp, his heart sank into the underworld.
He told Ra’id first, because it was expected that he would.
“I have to leave in the morning,” Zafir said, explaining the situation with demonstrators in his home city.
“I’ve been thinking of leaving myself,” Ra’id admitted. “Amineh wants to stay the full two weeks, and the girls would live here if I could arrange it, but I’m restless. There are things I should be looking after at home. We’ve had the meeting we needed. It’s time.”
Zafir nodded. They were both high-energy men, used to demanding days and schedules that took them around the world in a week. As children they’d been neighbors and acquaintances. At boarding school, they’d gravitated to each other, Ra’id for Zafir’s mastery of English and Zafir for Ra’id’s understanding and sharing of his Arab blood. As adults they were as close as brothers and never tired of each other’s company, but they also knew and respected the responsibilities each had. Idleness was not a natural state for either of them, so leaving made sense.
But Zafir wasn’t ready.
“You look genuinely worried. Is this demonstration worse than the others?” Ra’id asked.
“No,” Zafir said, consciously clearing his scowl, but unable to stop thinking about what he would be giving up. “It’s the same group that rabble-rouses every time I’m away. Things will settle the minute I’m in residence so I’ll go home and make that happen.” He wouldn’t ignore these small uprisings as his father had done, allowing them to escalate into riots and bloodshed.
“This man who keeps causing unrest. Abu Gadiel? I thought you were going to marry his daughter and quiet him for good?”