EPILOGUE TWO
“Say yes,” he growled as he reached for her breasts and tried to lift her sequined robe. “It has been almost a month, my queen. I cannot wait.”
“I’m still tender from the twins,” she said, looking up into his eyes that were full of need. “I don’t think I can take you, Bilaal.” She looked down at the enormous bulge at the crotch of his black silk pajamas, and started to stroke him. She’d pleasured him every way she could since giving birth—and he’d done the same for her. But she was still wary of taking his girth and power after the delivery, which had been stressful in a way she didn’t realize at the time, with the chaos and madness of thirty people in the damned room with her, multiple levels of drama all around!
“I know,” the Sheikh said, arching his neck as he went hard under her touch. “I feel your tenderness when I touch you between the legs. The delivery was hard on you. I am to blame, for bringing that drama with Mala into the room and adding to your stress.”
“I would have been more stressed if that drama hadn’t unfolded where I could see,” she said, smirking as she cupped his balls and felt her king stiffen and shudder like he was fully under her control. “I would have been wondering who you were planning to kill next while I was pushing out your oversized twin babies.”
The Sheikh groaned and began to massage her breasts, plucking at her nipples that were raw and tough from a month of two hungry babies suckling on them while Princess River still fought for her place at the feeding spot!
“The twins are big, are they not?” he muttered, kissing her gently and then harder as she pulled the waistband of his silk pajamas down, releasing his heavy cock. It sprang out and up, its erotic curve sending a shiver through Irene as she stroked him lengthwise, feeling every contour and vein in his erection. She wished she could take him, but she knew once he was inside her, he’d take her hard and she’d let him. And then she’d pay the price for the next few days. She didn’t want to wait, but she needed to wait. Goddamn it!
“They’re going to be giants, I think,” she whispered as her heat rose. “I still feel stretched out from pushing them out. I think I’ll feel loose to you the next time we . . .”
“Let me see,” he muttered, reaching down beneath her blue gown of sequined silk and gently prying her thighs open. He teased the lips of her vagina until she was dripping down his fingers, and then he slowly pushed his middle finger into her slit, making her moan and tighten her grip on his cock. “No, my queen. You feel so tight and firm. Ya Allah, I do not think I will even fit inside you when it is time!” He massaged her stiff little clit with his thumb as he worked another finger into her pussy. “I think I will have to take it slow, acclimatize my desert queen’s petite entrance so she can handle the girth of her king. It will take time. Patience. It will not be easy.”
She giggled and moaned as she felt his finger curl up inside her cunt and rest on that fibrous little knob on the secret inner wall. Every one of the fine hairs on her dainty bush stood to attention as he tapped and rubbed her spot, and before she realized what was happening her eyes flicked wide open and she came just as the Sheikh pushed his tongue into her mouth for a deep, hot kiss.
“Oh, God,” she wailed as the orgasm hit out of the blue, and it was everything she could do to keep pulling on his mighty cock as she went limp in his arms and thrashed her way through her climax, up and down, in and out, round and round and back again. “Oh, God, Bilaal. How do you do that? How can you make me come so hard, before I even realize what’s happening?”
The Sheikh didn’t reply, and only when Irene focused on his face did she see that his eyes were rolling up in his head as he grimaced in ecstasy. Oh my, he’s about to explode, she thought in joy as she licked her lips and jerked him off with all her strength, waiting to see the expression on his handsome face as he blew his load under her loving touch.
Sure enough, just as she cupped his warm balls again and fisted his throbbing cock with fury, those green eyes of his opened and he arched his muscular neck and called out to his God and came, came like thunder, like a rainstorm, like a—
She gasped when she felt a sudden heat on her stomach and the front of her thighs, and when she looked she saw that her man was coming all over the front of her hand-woven blue silk gown! She wanted to save the gown, but Bilaal was still coming, his heavy cock jerking back and forth as it spurted his thick semen onto her, making the thin cloth of her dress stick to her curves as his seed soaked in.
“No wonder your babies are so big,” she remarked when he finally seized up and forced out the last of his enormous load before embracing her and showering her head and face with sloppy, bearlike kisses. “You produce more damned semen than a prize stud. And thanks for ruining my gown, by the way. How am I going to explain this to the Royal Tailors?”
“That is your problem,” he muttered into her hair as he cupped her buttocks in his embrace. “I am Sheikh, and I do not explain anything to anyone. And as queen and my Sheikha, you would do well to develop that habit too.” He squeezed her ass and slapped her heavy rump gently, pulling back so he could look into her eyes. “As for being your prize stud, although that was incredible, I cannot wait until you are up on my haunches, riding me as only an American mustang can, snorting and steaming as I . . . ya Allah, what is this?”
The Sheikh’s hands were resting firmly on her ass, with his fingers stroking her crack through her dress, as he loved to do. But mid-stroke he’d stopped, placing his thumbs right against her rear hole. He cocked his head and looked down at her, before suddenly breaking into a grin and spinning her around in his arms so fast she almost fainted.
“Whoa!” she gasped, sucking in her breath and bracing herself as the Sheikh pushed her against the plush backrest of a nearby divan. He bent her forward and tried to lift her dress over her ass, but it was well-fitted and even tighter now that the semen was drying on it. So he just grabbed it down by the hem, and with barely a grunt ripped it clean up the middle with his enormous paws. “OK great,” she whispered. “That settles the matter of the dress, you animal.”
“Silence,” he commanded as he looked her up and down from behind. She was virtually naked beneath the dress, wearing just a white nursing bra with no panties. Panties were no longer part of her queen’s ensemble, she’d decided. It was nice to have a secret reminder of that year they’d spent in the wilderness, nice to bring some of the wildness back with her.
And she’d brought another bit of the wildness back too, as the Sheikh had clearly just discovered.
“I thought you had forgotten,” he muttered as he slowly spread her naked buttcheeks and stared at the smooth, hand-carved wooden plug that was firmly in place. A placeholder for the king. “And I had forgotten too, with all the madness of the past year. By God, my queen. Ya Allah, does this mean . . .”
With a regal, elegant smile the queen stood to her full height and popped off her nursing bra, letting her heavy boobs hang down in a way that made the Sheikh’s jaw drop so fast he began to drool. Slowly she walked away from him, swinging her wide hips, reveling in how his spent, shiny cock was already moving at the sight of her ass. Finally she stopped near the sprawling teakwood table, bent over, and pulled out the plug, tossing it onto the hand-woven Persian carpets where five generations of kings and queens had made love. Then that frontier woman, that desert queen, that free-running mustang of the great plains turned her head and let loose her mane and looked at her stallion and snorted in the elegant way only a queen can pull off.
“Come,” she whispered as she prepared herself. “Come break in your mustang. Come, my stallion, my stud, my king, my Sheikh. Come, my husband. Come to me.”
And he went to her, fast and furious, with all the life he had in him. To the woman who’d given him shelter from the storm outside all those years ago, the woman who every day still gave him shelter from the storm that raged inside, the woman who reminded him, always and forever, that life is for the living.
Life is for the living.
∞