India held Gabriel’s hand tightly as they stood at the podium together at the press conference. Only ten minutes previously, the case against India had been thrown out of court. The judges had decided that India had been raped and had acted in self-defence when she’d committed manslaughter. As a minor, they said she was not responsible for covering up the crime, and that—in the political circumstances—while they didn’t absolve her parents’ actions, they understood them. They’d said that as her parents were deceased, nothing more was to be done.
The ruling indirectly vindicated the French Ambassador’s action in not handing India over to the dictator—although nothing had been said about India’s most recent trip to Bagazin. The hearing had focused entirely on the events that had occurred and led to Charles Mawandi’s death.
Gabriel cleared his throat and addressed the room, which was packed with journalists from all over the world. ‘Thank you all for coming and thank you for the support you’ve shown us during this very stressful time.’ He squeezed India’s hand. ‘By now, you’re all aware that my wife has been cleared of the actions she took in self-defence when she was a teenager.’
His speech was interrupted by a burst of applause.
‘I’m immensely proud of her,’ Gabe continued when the applause died down. ‘As I’m sure you’ll understand, the questions she’s already faced in the courtroom have been harrowing, and I ask that you respect her need to make one last statement about her ordeal, but refrain from subjecting her to any further questions.’ The words were not a request. India saw the steely warning in her husband’s eyes and was thankful that he was at his most formidable when he was protecting her. ‘I’ll now present Queen India for her comments.’
There was another short burst of applause.
India swallowed and adjusted the microphone a fraction, then took out the speech she’d prepared. ‘Every day, in every country, there are girls and women, and boys and men who are subjected to a multitude of sexual offences. Sexual assault is a heinous and brutal act. It has nothing to do with normal sexual impulses and in fact isn’t about sex. Sexual assault is a crime of violence that is all about power and control—about humiliating and brutalising the victim. It’s a crime that survives, and indeed thrives, when we continue to treat it as a taboo subject or while society still suggests that the victim’s behaviour is at the heart of the cause.
‘I was raped in a country which has no law, no protection and no justice. Yet even in societies where there is a strong legal system, too often sufficient justice is not meted out to the perpetrator, and insufficient justice is available for the victim. And even when the rapist goes to jail, the victim of rape is left dealing with the crime—playing it over and over in her or in his head and reliving the terror and feeling of helplessness.
‘As a victim of sexual assault I understand the residual trauma, which continues long after the physical brutality is over. Guilt, sadness, fear, self-revulsion, anger and bitterness are just some of the emotions the victim goes through. Believe me, this violation has an enormous impact on the survivor’s self-esteem and self-worth and it takes a huge amount of strength and a lot of support to move on and especially,’ she sent Gabriel a tremulous smile, ‘to feel safe in forming a normal, healthy and loving relationship.
‘I hope that by speaking out, I can send a message to survivors of sexual assault. There is no disgrace and no shame that should be borne by the victim. All the shame belongs to the aggressor. It’s also a shame that our society bears if we don’t support and nurture the victims—if we are too uncomfortable to speak about this shocking subject.
‘In support of victims of sexual assault, plans are already underway to establish a foundation in my name. As well as helping victims and their families, I intend to do all I can internationally to lobby politicians to fight against sexual assault, and I want to encourage everyone to talk about this crime rather than hiding it away in the shadows so we’re not confronted by it when it’s mentioned. We need to bring it right into the spotlight. I ask you, the international community of journalists, to help me do this because we have to do it together.’
India shook hard. Her hands trembled and the deep muscles in her calves were in spasm. She looked out upon the sea of faces in the room. Everyone seemed to hang on to her every word but it was impossible for her to gauge their reactions to her impassioned plea.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
‘Thank you,’ she said at last as she started to fold up the paper she held.
A chair scraped back—then another and another, until every journalist in the room stood and the applause was thunderous.
Biting down on her lip to stop the tears, which threatened to flow at such an incredibly overwhelming show of support, India turned to Gabe. She was about to tell him she needed to leave, but he knew already.
With a quick nod to the room, Gabriel placed his protective arm around India and led her from the room.
***
Later that night, as she lay in Gabriel’s arms, India ran her hand over his chest and knew she was ready to remove the last barrier. ‘Gabe?’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘Tonight, I want you to make love to me. That is, I want to change position. I want you to go on top.’
He stroked his hand across her forehead. ‘If you think you’re ready for that?’
‘I know you’ve been avoiding putting any weight on me, but I’m ready now. I want to make love with you that way.’
Showing her all the tender care and consideration she was growing used to, her fabulous husband kissed and caressed her and made love to her with his mouth and his hands to stoke the fire of her passion—fire that never seemed to fully die out, but was always smouldering slowly, waiting to be fanned back into life.
When he braced himself with his hands on either side of her shoulders, never breaking eye contact as he positioned himself between her legs, she was ready for him. The heaviness of his erection brushed against her thigh. A tiny bubble of panic formed and she used the memories of her newly found physical pleasures to beat it down.
Unwilling to be a passive participant, she allowed her hands free rein to explore his magnificent body.
Gabriel’s body.
Her palms spread over the broad expanse of his chest, her fingertips tweaking at his male nipples and delighting in seeing them pinch into tauter nubs. And as he pressed his lips against her neck, she allowed her hands to sink lower—to feel the ridges of his abdominal muscles before tracing down to the hardness of his pelvic bones.
Oh, so gloriously male; it gave her enormous satisfaction to have his huge frame shudder beneath her touch.
So hard to her softness—each part of him a magnificent contrast to her. Daringly, she looked all the way down his frame as it hovered over hers. Her gaze locked on to his manhood as it bumped against the part of her that was still sensitive from where he’d brought her apart that morning. The head of his penis knocked against her, warning her it wanted entry—perhaps trying to desensitise her for his possession in this position.
If Gabriel’s aim was desensitisation, his actions were an abject failure. Instead, each nudge increased her sensitivity. Desire overwhelmed apprehension and she parted her thighs wider for him as her hands trailed across the width of his back, feeling the perspiration that moistened his skin. A quick look up to the intensity of his expression and she realised it was costing him to go slowly with her.
In complete consideration for her needs and her readiness, Gabriel’s hand smoothed over her breasts once again before it slipped back to the damp, delicate softness below.
He closed the gap between them slowly and she held tight as he allowed his hair-roughened thighs to brush against hers. He rotated his hips against her pelvis, gradually increasing his weight against her. She burrowed her head into his shoulder, breathing in his scent, loving the intimacy, welcoming each sensation and trying to relax and centre on knowing she was sharing this experience with Gabriel. There was no reason to feel nervous with her husband and her lover.
A soft whimper escaped against his shoulder as he brought the tip of his erection to stroke against her sensitised clitoris.
‘Still with me, India?’ he husked.
All she could do was nod.
‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he murmured. Then, looking deep into her eyes he asked, ‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes.’ Yes. She was ready. She loved Gabriel and she wasn’t afraid. She wanted him back inside her—wanted to be transported back to enjoy the wonderful ecstasy she knew they could share.
He captured her mouth with his while he parted her with his fingers. Then he was there.
‘Look at me, darling.’
It was another shatteringly intimate moment, to look into the blue depths of his eyes while his body merged slowly with hers. Not a violent conqueror but a caring partner who was sensitive to her fears and to her needs.
Slowly, he stretched her as he entered her aching void, seeming conscious to keep her with him in this moment, to let her body accommodate to his gradually and not give her too much of his length and thickness too soon.
She lifted her buttocks off the soft mattress and pushed up against him.
Gabriel groaned and closed his eyes.
She watched the strain on his face as he started to withdraw. Felt the shudder rack through him as he thrust back again—all control.
Her hands travelled possessively over the plains of his back and the dip of his spine before settling on the firm mounds of his buttocks. Eagerly, she matched the fluid, rocking rhythm of his body in counterpoint, driving up more firmly to meet his thrusts and pulling her body back down as he withdrew. Revelling in the delicious, intoxicating friction, every cell reached for and demanded greater satisfaction.
‘More, Gabriel,’ she urged as she arched her pelvis up.
‘Can you wrap your legs around my waist?’ he rasped.
She’d do anything he suggested to sate her physical longing.
‘Oh!’ she cried out.
It was so good.
With her legs wrapped around him and her hips tilted, he plunged even deeper into her yielding warmth. God, but she was frantic to grasp for the ecstasy of the release, which she knew lay just out of reach. She clung on to his shoulders and raked her fingers through his hair as her heart pounded against her rib cage. Instinctively her inner muscles squeezed around him, urging him to thrust harder. The pleasure grew more intense, rippling through her until she began to arch off the bed and to spasm in a frenzy of glorious abandonment. Her cries of ecstasy rent the air. The euphoria reached a crescendo and plunged her over the edge into sweet oblivion.
‘India!’ Gabe growled out her name as he moved inside her faster and harder a few more times. He filled her with one last savage thrust and then groaned and shuddered above her.
The image of him in the grasp of such physical pleasure filled her with a sweet sense of contentment. Intermittently, her internal muscles convulsed—little aftershocks continuing to tug pleasurably right up through her womb.
‘Beautiful,’ she told him quietly, as her body floated, completely sated, on a cloud of wonder and bliss.
Gabriel nuzzled her neck. His voice was full of satisfied sensual completion as he told her, ‘You’re beautiful.’
She angled her head to look at him, and as he raised his face to her, she was incredibly humbled to see the moisture of profound emotion in his eyes.
Still joined with her, Gabriel rolled back on the bed. He carried her with him so she lay over him—her body held securely within the strength of his arms.
‘I love you, India,’ he told her.
‘Don’t ever stop telling me,’ she replied. She held the words close to her heart. They weren’t words she’d grown up with, and she’d never grow tired of hearing them—especially from Gabriel.