Chapter Nine
“You seem contented,” he said as she curled up in her leather seat on his private jet.
“I have to admit that I love flying with style. It was great being shuttled out here to begin with and even more of a pleasure when I can do it with someone I do care about.”
Cemal’s jaw clenched a little. He loved her, knew he had back in high school and that he did now. He’d spent years hoping against hope that she’d come back to him. Every time she said that she only cared for him felt like sipping arsenic from an open bowl. It burned through his throat and his organs, leaving him a shriveled shell of himself.
“Then that’s a good thing.”
“I can’t imagine what there is for me in Tunisia. I’ve never been there before.”
“I assumed as much,” he said, winking at her. If she thought that she was going to wriggle the secret out of him, then tough. Those details he was going to keep from her. Well, unless she wanted to provide incentives for him to spill. “However, I might give you a good hint.”
“Oh, so is this like twenty questions?”
“Not exactly,” he said, unbuckling his seat and then gesturing to his bathroom. His largest jet had a built-in bedroom with a king bed, but he’d chosen something a bit smaller and more sensible for just the two of them. Besides, it hadn’t escaped his imagination that he’d be trying some things out with her, things that he assumed had to be new for Juliana. “I was thinking of something more fun.”
She blushed, her pale cheeks going as red as a fire hydrant when she realized the true meaning behind his words. “We can’t!”
“I own the plane.”
“The captain and copilot are still here!” she hissed.
“I suppose so,” he replied. “But they have a soundproof cabin.”
She shook her head, even though the smile spreading across her lips told him she was trying to sound shocked because it was what was expected of her. He knew his little kitten well in some ways, and she loved to take every opportunity she got to pleasure him. Cemal could understand why. He felt the same way about her. Together, they were like combustible chemicals that couldn’t help being mixed together to start a fire, to let something new and blinding rage between them.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m serious. Maybe I break all the rules, but you never even try, Juliana. Don’t you want to go back to the States with good stories? Don’t you want to be a little bit bad?” He drew closer to her. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “You sure seemed to be when I fucked you with my tongue up against an alley wall. This is far more private. After all, kitten, don’t you want to join the mile-high club?”
She mewled then, a delicate sound escaping her throat that had his erection hard and straining against the fabric of his jeans. Dear Allah, how could the woman do that to him with just a few movements? With just one sound?
“I would,” she said, her voice husky.
“Then follow me,” he said, reaching out his hand.
She unbuckled her seat belt and let him lead her to his bathroom. Technically, they could do it out in the main floor, but as an ode to the actual mile-high club and for ease of cleaning, he wanted to do it somewhere slightly more secluded. Besides, his plane’s bathroom was good sized with a marble double sink and a shower big enough for three. He’d tested that out on more than one occasion.
As they scooted into the more removed accommodations, he unzipped himself and then tore open the foil packet in his jeans pocket. There was no need to be dangerous in everything. A child was clearly the furthest thing from her mind, and even if his mother wanted him to settle down and sire an heir, it wasn’t what he wanted yet either. Once he was ready, he smiled back at his lover.
“I’ve loved exploring you, feeling every inch of your mouth on my body. I’ve craved you, and even the daily taste of your nectar hasn’t been enough for me.”
She smirked back at him, and her eyes seemed to twinkle as well. “Why do I feel there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”
“However,” he said, playing semantics a bit. “I want to be inside you. I want to thrust my hips and feel all of me deep in your core. I want all of you.”
“That you can have,” she said, her voice a throaty purr.
Cemal lowered his arms and encircled her waist, easily pulling her into his grasp. Juliana responded by wrapping her legs around his torso and giving them a tight grip. He was glad that she’d worn another kaftan, this time something in an indigo that complemented her eyes. It was child’s play to ease the silk up over her thighs and expose the soft curls at the apex of her mons. With one hand, he traced over those delicate tufts of hair and massaged them; it made him smile and his erection harden further to watch her throw her head back and moan.
“God, yes.”
“I’m not a deity, but I love the compliment, kitten.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” he said, even as he pulled on the waistband of her panties, glad that wherever she bought them, the cheap, lacy things shredded easily in his grip. “Access. I love it.”
“These cost money!” she huffed, slapping playfully at his hand.
He dropped the panties to the ground and then shifted his hips enough to make sure that the tip of his member was tracing its own delicate patterns over the skin of her most sensitive lips.
“I need you, kitten,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “Don’t ever forget that. No matter what happens, never forget I need you.”
Then he eased his length in, inch by inch, even as his eyes rolled back in his head, overjoyed with the sensation of the tight heat of her channel. It was the perfect fit. Finally, once he was almost completely swallowed by her core, Cemal began to move back and forth. He started with a delicate plumbing of her body, tiny thrusts that left her pushing her hips toward his.
“I need more,” she said, her legs wrapping more tightly around him. Then she leaned up and traced her tongue over his ear, coming to his earlobe and pulling the sensitive flesh inside of her mouth. Her teeth scraped at the skin and he shivered under her ministrations. “Faster, Cemal.”
That was all he needed to release all the passion he’d been holding in for fifteen long, arduous years.
His thrusts became frantic in their frequency, even as his hands gripped tightly to her hips. She pushed back against him as her mouth found purchase on his skin—first his earlobe again, then his lips, and finally his neck. Even as he speared her with his motions, she suckled and teased the delicate skin of his neck until she reached his pulse point, her tongue flicking quickly against the vein there.
It was as if sparks were spreading out all over his body, as if he’d been shocked by an electrical socket. As she continued her efforts, her tongue tracing devious patterns against his skin, Cemal couldn’t handle it anymore. He thrust into her more deeply. Finally, it felt as if lightening had struck him, a huge searing sizzle snaking out through every nerve and fiber of his being.
Cemal stumbled a bit, but then felt renewed strength surge through him when Juliana came as well, the muscles of her inner core pulsing around him.
“God, Cemal!” she cried before her forehead fell onto his shoulder. He could feel the sweat of her brow against the skin of his neck. Clearly, she was as spent as he was. “How do you do that?”
He grinned, finally coming to his own senses. “I have my ways.”
“You certainly do.”
***
She ran her hand over the craggy surface of the sheetrock. There were tears springing forth in her eyes. The feeling of being here was indescribable. The fact that Cemal had thought such a creative and meaningful excursion up made her happier still.
“It doesn’t look like it used to,” Juliana said as she looked back up at her lover.
The wind swirled around him, causing dirt and sand to crash into his legs. Now she understood why he’d changed into his robes once they’d gotten near their destination. The heat of the Tunisian desert made her one trip to Texas seem like a day in Massachusetts in January. Jeans were great for most things. She blushed, thinking about what they’d done earlier on the plane. Scratch that. Jeans were good for many things, and easy access was chief among them. However, the robes like her own kaftan were light and free in the constant Tunisian wind. Anything that helped to keep them from passing out was a good thing.
Cemal quirked his head at her. “I’ve seen the film series…well, the originals. I heard the prequels were terrible so I skipped them.”
“You have to see The Force Awakens!” she gushed, even as she continued to circle the faded dome that had once been Luke Skywalker’s home on Tatooine.
Tunisia was where they’d filmed the first Star Wars, but she never made the connection with the trip and sightseeing the ruins that Lucas and company had left behind. They’d already been to parts of Mos Esba and seen the ruined towns, even the semi-scarecrows erected of Darth Vader’s robe and Jawa robes on empty sticks. It was amazing to be here, but somewhat bittersweet. The forty years of sun exposure had not been particularly kind to the site, neither had the Arab Spring. Yet it endured, and she was as close to being a chosen Jedi warrior right now as she’d ever be.
Cemal chuckled. “I’ve been busy, but I had heard that one was watchable.”
“It’s more than watchable. It’s great, even if I hate Kylo Ren, but I figured that was the point, especially when he and…never mind, because spoilers and…”
He slipped his arms around her and drew her close to his body. There was still that biting hint of saffron that hung around him, but now it was mixed with his sweat and the powerful aroma of his own masculinity. God, she wanted him all over again. Their time on the plane had only partially satiated her hunger.
Cemal kissed her lips and then laughed again. “You might want to take a breath before you force yourself to pass out with so much talking. I’ve never heard someone who could get on a tear like you. That’s what first caught my eye. I’d hear you giving book reports or explanations at the front of the class and the excitement that bubbled through was something new for me.”
She frowned back at him. “Yes, but I was the teacher’s pet and every kid there pretty much hated me for being a know-it-all. I was excited but it was dorky.”
“I think that enthusiasm should always be rewarded,” he replied. “I don’t think you understand who I was.”
“You were the coolest kid in class, even if no one knew you were the heir to a billion-plus dollar empire! I wanted to be you. You never let anyone get to you. It didn’t matter what teachers said or the principal said, you just did what you wanted to do. I’ve always worried about pleasing everyone my entire life.”
He reached down and stroked her neck, and she shivered at the touch of those callused fingers. Unlike the average prince or king—if there was such a thing—she knew that Cemal had never been afraid to get his hands dirty. Back at St. Paul’s, he’d always been fixing up his motorcycle or smoking. There was the heart of a grease monkey, for sure, lying under all of Cemal’s now cultured exterior—that rough and tumble badass who could still leave a jolt of heat tingling through her belly.
“But you knew what you wanted to do. You were already talking about Caltech or MIT in sophomore year of high school. I had no idea who I was going to be.”
“You had it easy,” she said, her tone honest. “You knew you were always destined to be the sheikh of Jordan. You knew that you’d always have enough money, even if you didn’t have a dream job or the right college acceptance letter.”
Cemal’s amber eyes seemed to dim a bit, their light dimming a little. “You misunderstand me. There’s a difference between who I am and my career. They’re not the same thing. Being the sheikh was what I couldn’t escape, but it was never what I wanted. I’ve done what I can in order to help my people because it matters. Because it’s what mattered to my father and what my mother cares about too, but it’s not my passion.”
“So you’re comparing my loving to code to being a life mission.”
“You are in love with your career, you can’t deny that.”
She sighed and entangled her fingers through his. “I love computers. I love code, but there’s so much more to my story, and I think there is to yours too. I…let’s finish looking at Tatooine, and then we can have dinner. I promise we have so much more to share, Cemal.”
“And you’ll tell me what I want to know?”
“I’ll be an open book. I promise,” she said.