Oh. She was tempted.
This was the most delicious dream. As difficult as it was
for her to release her logical mind, Aimalee tried. Here was the most gorgeous
man she had ever seen, splayed out before her on velvet pillows like a pasha.
And he wanted her.
He beckoned her with his eyes and his words and his talented
touch.
Perhaps it was the magic he had mentioned or perhaps it was
the champagne—she’d already had several delicious glasses—but her resistance
was melting away. She wanted nothing more than to explore that ridged chest
with her tongue, test his thick thighs against her palms, explore that
tantalizing bulge…
Their auras tangled and she felt the tug. His soul, pulling
hers closer.
Whether it was magic or a dream or a hallucination, why
resist?
She glanced down at the breeches barely covering his groin
and was gratified to see the thick log of his cock engorged and throbbing
beneath the thin fabric. Excitement shot through her at the thought that a man
like him, a man like Keeshan, could want her.
Men had never ardently pursued her—she was hardly the type
to enflame passions. But then she’d never really been mindless with lust
herself. Every man she’d ever met had somehow been lacking. Wrong. Even Carter.
She flushed as the thought percolated through her brain.
No. Not Carter.
She was in love with Carter. He was perfect. Wonderful.
Clearly if anyone was lacking in that relationship it was she.
And what kind of girlfriend was she anyway, to be lusting
after another man—fantasy or not?
“What are you thinking about?” Keeshan’s voice rumbled
around her, sending shivers over her skin. But wait. No. It was a finger,
trailing torment from the tender flesh of her neck down her arm. He placed a
gentle kiss on the blue veins of her inner wrist. All thoughts of Carter
scuttled.
Aimalee stifled a shudder and looked away.
Keeshan captured her chin and brought her gaze back to his.
It burned through her like fire. “What are you thinking about? Why does it make
you sad?”
“I’m not sad.”
His thumb dabbed at the downturned corners of her mouth then
traced her lower lip as though he couldn’t resist. He tipped his head to the
side and studied her. His words, though unspoken, were clear.
“I’m not sad. Just confused.”
“About what?”
Aimalee shrugged one shoulder and gestured to the room with
the enchanted table that was never empty, the light source no scientific
observation could identify, the man, the beautiful man lounging on the plush
cushions, wanting—for some reason—her. “This. All this. Is this a dream?”
His smile was a halfhearted attempt. “If you want it to be.”
Aimalee frowned. That was hardly an answer. Though she had
eaten all she desired and was pleasantly full, a deeper hunger, an ache, a
vague annoyance, gnawed at her. With a start, she realized what that deeper
hunger was.
Savage animal lust was a new sensation for her and she
wasn’t sure what to do about it.
On the one hand, Keeshan was splayed before her ready,
willing and able to give her what she wanted. On the other hand there was
Carter.
Her boyfriend.
Whom she loved.
But if this was nothing but a fantasy, could guilt truly
hold sway?
Apparently it could.
She cleared her throat and cast about for a change of
subject. Something, anything to derail her errant thoughts. “So tell me…”
“Yes?” His voice was a low rumble, a seduction in itself. It
sent sheets of fire racing through her body, ignited a bubbling volcano within
her, making logical thought impossible.
“Um. Tell me about this magic.”
He groaned and rested his forehead on hers. Lord, he was
hot. So hot and vibrant. Smelled of sandalwood and cloves. A swell of desire
and comfort and…rightness washed over her.
“Can you feel it?” he whispered.
“I don’t know what I feel.” But she did. Without conscious
intent, she swayed toward him.
His nostrils flared. He licked his lips. “Please, Aimalee.”
“Please what?”
“Kiss me.”
“Tell me, Keeshan. Is this a dream?”
“A dream come true.” His tone ensorcelled her.
The room was warm and aromatic. The pillows were plush and
inviting. And the man…the man was big and hard and hot. She wanted nothing more
in that moment than to sink into him, to consume him, to explore. So she did.
It was only a dream. And she was hungry for him. And he
seemed to burn with passion for her.
So she did.
She tasted his surprise as her lips brushed against his,
then his elation and his growing passion as those lips firmed and opened,
welcoming her in. He made a move to rise above her but she pressed him back
down on the pillows.
This was her dream. For once she wanted to be in control.
Before he could protest, she knelt up and angled a leg over
his waist.
Dear heavens, he was broad. She could barely straddle his
breadth. But she did. And oh. Oh.
She settled herself down and pushed up his tunic to reveal
his chest then nudged back at the hard length pressing against her buttocks. He
hissed at the contact but she ignored him and lifted herself up, just an inch
or two, and she scooted back. When she came down again, it was on his ridge,
riding him, rubbing him against her slit. She hadn’t realized how tender her
clit had become but she realized it now when she rocked forward and flattened
it against his hardness.
He moaned and twitched impatiently beneath her but she could
tell he was trying to hold still, let her have her way with him. A muscle
twitched in his cheek. His expression smoldered.
“Do you like this?” she asked, trying to be playful when
what she really wanted was to eat him up.
“No.” His voice was guttered, strained.
She stilled, suddenly self-conscious. But her embarrassment
lasted only a second. It took that long for her to realize he did in fact like
this. But he didn’t want to like it. She pretended a pout and undulated her
hips slowly, making a torturous circuit, rubbing herself to bliss against his
rod. “How about this?”
He whimpered.
She bent down and kissed his abdomen, just beside the
straining head of his cock, which was now peeping out from beneath the band of
his breeches. She didn’t touch it but she did breathe upon it. It jerked in
response and the beading drop of cum at the tip oozed larger. She longed to lap
at it with her tongue but she knew, somehow she knew, it would be his undoing.
Instead she let her kisses travel up his chest, nibbling,
licking and sucking every fascinating bulge and ripple. All the while she
rubbed herself against him like a cat, dampening his breeches with each pass.
“Please, Aimalee.” He winced as she nipped at his nipple.
She raised her head and met his tortured gaze. She was
stretched across him, his blanket, grinding her clit against his cock. It was
so good she simply couldn’t stop. She could feast upon him, ride him, all day.
“Please what?”
“Please.” His neck and shoulders bunched with strain. Errant
tears spiked his lashes.
Suddenly comprehension dawned. The man was suffering. Truly
suffering. It took everything in him to give her the reins, to let her control
their passion. And naughty girl that she was, she was teasing him.
He was close to breaking.
“Ah.” She made a few minor adjustments in their clothing and
rose up above him. He greedily tracked her movements and a welter of relief
washed over his tight features when she took him, hard and thick and throbbing,
into her hand. “Is this what you want?” She nudged her hips forward and rubbed
the sticky tip of his cock against her slit.
He thrust up but it wasn’t a predatory thrust. It was a
reflexive, desperate lurch.
Aimalee loved that he had allowed, nay, encouraged, her to
be the aggressor. But while she’d wholly enjoyed her exploration of his body,
enough was enough.
She was wet and aching and needy.
Slowly, carefully, she fitted his cock into the mouth of her
pussy and eased down upon him. His groan shook the room.
“God! Yes!” He released his death grip on the pillows and
took hold of her hips instead. He blew out a hiss as he guided her all the way
down.
His thickness filled her, expanded her. She quivered against
the orgasm stalking her. With one final upward lunge, Keeshan finished the act,
sealing them together, sending shudders of delight lancing her. Then he lowered
his hips back down to the pillows, taking her with him, looking up at her in
awe.
“Good,” he grunted. “So good.”
Aimalee tightened around him and delighted in his responding
jerk. She had never done this before, ridden a man. She rather liked it. But…
“What do I do now?”
A wicked grin tweaked his lips. “Just follow my lead,” he
said, repositioning his grip on her hips. When he moved her in tiny circles,
she nearly fainted at the sensation. But she got the point and once she recovered
from the nerve-tingling orgasm, began to undulate and rotate on his enormous
cock.
As delightful as it was for her, it was torment for him. She
soon had him writhing beneath her, panting and groaning and pleading. She
paused in her ministrations to gaze down at him, so noble and strong, so taut
with desire. She had to kiss him.
His lips were damp, restless. A wildness skirted his eyes.
“Tell me what you need,” she whispered. “Let me please you.”
“I want to fuck you.”
Aimalee laughed. Her breasts, beneath the lace, bobbled. “We
are fucking, aren’t we?”
“I want to fuck
you
.”
Her heart lurched at his intensity. “All right—”
Before the words were past her lips, he’d lifted them both
off the pillows and turned over without breaking their connection. Now he rose
above her, seated within her, and stared at her like a wild animal sighting its
prey.
He nudged her legs farther apart and bent to take her aching
nipple in his mouth. He sucked and sucked hard. Aimalee arched into him as
lightning shot through her but there was nowhere to go as he was flush against
her, delving deep. His hot length kissed her womb and she trembled. A strange,
keening ache enveloped her. An orgasm unlike anything she had ever known rose
up within her. It was wild. Wanton. Ravaged her, body and soul.
When he began to withdraw, she groaned but he continued to
pull out. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to hold him in,
whimpering when she couldn’t.
Just when he was about to slip out, he reversed direction
and eased back in, slowly, unerringly finding his way to her core once more.
In the throes of yet another wash of bliss, she clenched at
him again. He jerked his cock back out and before she had time to complain
thrust it home again. And again. And again.
Aimalee shivered and thrashed beneath him, begging and
pleading and nipping at his flesh like a savage.
And then it happened.
Keeshan rose up, went stiff. Deep within her, his cock
swelled, filling her, dominating her every thought.
He moved just a tiny bit and her swollen folds contracted.
Aimalee, unable to bear the sensation, fractured. Rapture
came and took her and carried her off. But she wasn’t alone.
His body, tight as a bowstring, erupted. Hot and hard, jets
of cream flooded her as Keeshan came along with her.
Long after the passion had receded, they lay there on the
pillows, wrapped in each other’s arms, breath tangling. Aimalee held him close
and laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart, steady and strong. His
skin warmed her cheek.
She had never experienced anything quite so wonderful and
she didn’t want it to ever, ever end.
If this was a dream, it was the best dream she’d ever had.
When they recovered from that delightful interlude, Keeshan
took Aimalee on the tour of the palace. It was a brief tour. In truth there was
not much to show—the mirror room, the sleep chamber and the banquet hall she
had already seen—but it always calmed his visitors, knowing the lay of the
land.
“This,” he said, opening the fourth door, “is the library.”
She poked her head in and gasped. It was a long room,
flanked with row upon row of bookcases, jammed with all manner of reading
material. There was a long divan against one wall and a roughhewn table at the
center, piled with books.
Her nose twitched and she leaned in farther. “May I come in
here and read? When there’s time?”
He nodded. “Certainly.” But there wouldn’t be time. He knew
her visit here would be short. Like the blink of an eye. He knew once she left,
another century of loneliness gaped before him like an abyss. He planned to
keep her occupied, to take full advantage of her while he could.
The thought annoyed him so he quickly guided her out of the
room and closed the door, moving on to the next. He opened the door and stepped
back. “The playroom.”
She shot him a cynical glance. “The playroom? Really?” And
then she peeped inside and chuckled. “It’s a workout room.” It was filled with
weights and resistance machines, all fashioned after modern accoutrements he’d
seen in the mirror.
“This is where I exercise, yes.”
There was no need for her to study him the way she did.
Certainly no call for her to murmur with that hint of hesitation, “Y-you work
out?”
He resisted the urge to flex for her. Surely it was obvious.
He did, after all, have a lot of time on his hands. “You are welcome to watch,
should you so desire.”
He enjoyed the slow creep of red up her cheeks. Enjoyed even
more the knowledge that he could make her blush.
She fidgeted for a bit as though tempted to take him up on
the offer and then stepped out of the room, back into the sweeping atrium. She
scanned the row of doors. “And where do you…” Her flush deepened and she
wiggled a little.
He was entranced by the movement but managed to respond.
“Where do I what?”
She edged closer and licked her lips several times in
succession as though that would help the words slip out. “Where do you…pee?”
He blinked. Not having normal human needs, he’d forgotten.
She’d been here for several hours now. Had several glasses of champagne. “Over
here.” As he opened the door, a waft of roiling steam rolled out. “This is the
bathing room. There is a—I think you call it a toilet—there off the main
chamber.” He pointed.
“Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you.” She half ran, half skipped to
the recessed alcove at the far end of the pool.
He stood at the door, waiting for her, staring at the alcove
in which she’d disappeared and annoyed at himself for that. He was hardly a
love-addled pup to moon after a consort.
But Aimalee was so different. He had been stunned by her
enthusiasm, the way she had embraced their love, taken charge. He had to admit
he’d liked it.
Oh, he always liked sex but this was different. He liked
this more.
A lot had happened in the past one hundred years. The mirror
had shown him more changes in that short time than all the other centuries
combined. And one of the things that had shifted significantly was the role of
women in society. With few exceptions, the women who had come to him in the
past had been tentative, a little submissive. They had certainly expected him
take the lead in bed.
Aimalee brought a whole new flavor to the enterprise. Though
shy, she was more adventurous than his past consorts. Not afraid to say what
she thought, take what she wanted. Not afraid of him.
He
really
liked that.
Maybe a little too much.
She emerged from the alcove, wreathed in relief. Her mood
was definitely lifted.
His was not.
“Are there any other rooms?” she asked.
He bit his lip. “Just one. But I cannot show you that room
yet.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
He took her arm and led her from the humid bathing room. The
breezy atrium was cool in comparison. “It is the fantasy room. It remains
locked until the lamp decides to open it.”
“That’s odd.”
It was not odd. Not odd at all. The lamp would not open the
fantasy room until they were both ready to explore her deepest, darkest sexual
desires. Not until there was trust and acceptance…and love. But this was not
something he could tell her. He certainly couldn’t tell her that at that point
their journey together would be at an end.
“The lamp is ever inscrutable.” He could tell from her
expression she was annoyed by his ambiguous response. But really, he didn’t
care. Couldn’t care. There were things about the lamp Aimalee did not need to
know. And despite her curiosity, things she should not be allowed to discover.
He led her over to the balustrade and gestured toward the
stone stairs curling down the cliff. “In addition to the seven rooms, there is
the garden tier below and farther down, the beach. You are welcome to make
yourself at home here. However you wish. If there is anything you desire, you
need only ask and the lamp will provide.”
“And if I ask to go home?”
He merely smiled sadly in response. That was one request the
lamp would not grant. The gods knew he had asked often enough.
* * * * *
The next morning, Keeshan emerged from the mirror room after
another frustrating session to find Aimalee had awoken and was no longer in the
sleep chamber.
Though he’d only been away from her a few hours, a great
hunger for her presence stirred within him. Oddly enough it wasn’t a physical
desire. No, this was a longing seated deep in his soul. To hear her voice, her
laugh. To see her smile.
Anxiously, anticipation trilling within him, he set out on a
hunt for her. There were only a few places she could be. He poked his head into
the bathing room, the playroom and the library to no avail so he headed for the
garden.
He found her there, in the lovely lace dress, sitting by the
fountain, trailing her fingers in the sparkling water. Her back was to him but
that didn’t mitigate the snarl of attraction rumbling through him. Everything
about her fascinated him, entranced him. The way she held her head, the elegant
drift of her hand through the fountain’s waterfall, the way the tendrils of her
hair fluttered in the breeze—threads of gold, lifting and dancing in the
sunlight.
Her entire being, her aura, her soul, captivated him.
He watched her in silence, emotions waffling between desire
and guilt for that desire. Neither were new to him, nor was the conflict they
engendered. The magic of the lamp, the nature of his curse made certain he
wanted every woman who came to him. Made certain he could not resist her
allure.
The guilt, however, was his own. He carried it with him
always.
He’d suffered this conflict for nearly two thousand years,
fresh in his heart with every woman, with every visit.
But why now, why this time, why, with Aimalee was this
familiar tension so much more intense?
Could it be that attraction to her was real and not a
construct of the Dark Djinn’s sortilege? He brushed the thought away. The
implications were far too disturbing.
“Aimalee.”
At the sound of his voice, she stilled then slowly turned.
His heart clenched at the sight of tears on her cheeks. Damn it all. She’d been
crying. Pain twanged in his chest.
He ignored it.
He hunkered down beside her and dabbed away the dampness
with a thumb. “Why are you crying?”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not.” He sat on the lip of the fountain next to her,
drew her into his arms and cradled her. Together they watched the play of
sunlight dance through the burbling waters. She felt so good in his arms. That
was, until she began to sob. Her entire body rocked with it. “Aimalee. It’s not
nothing. Tell me.”
She peeped up at him and his heart contracted at her expression.
So beautiful. So sad. “It’s just… This isn’t a dream, is it?”
He pulled her closer. “No. It’s not.” How he wished it were
something other than what it was.
“I thought I could pretend this was all a hallucination but
I can’t. It’s too…real.”
“Did you enjoy our lovemaking?” Why he awaited her answer
so, heart in his throat, he could not explain.
“Yes,” she said but this confession triggered a new wash of
tears.
Keeshan snorted a laugh but there was no humor in it.
Exasperation perhaps. Befuddlement. Frustration. “Why does that make you cry?”
“I’m not crying.”
Even as she spoke the words, fresh tears puddled and
streamed down her cheeks. Keeshan knew enough about women to suspend logic in
such times. Instead he cuddled her and reveled in the press of her body against
his, her lingering scent. Unbidden, his arousal stirred. “Tell me what you’re
thinking.”
She buried her face in his shoulder. “I want to go home.”
Keeshan stilled. Forced himself to relax.
He reminded himself that she could not go home on a whim.
That she could not leave him now. She would have to wait until the lamp
released her. He pressed that sudden, irrational panic away and buried his nose
in her hair. Silken. Fragrant.
“It’s just not right, Keeshan, being here with you. Wanting
this.”
“Ah.” Yes. He recognized her struggle. He’d known it
himself. He propped his chin on the top of her head and let the silence enrobe
them. Then, “He’s not worthy of you, Aimalee.”
She went rigid in his arms. “He?”
“Carter.”
Was it possible for a woman to bristle like a hedgehog? She
did. Then she disentangled from his embrace, scooted a foot or so away and
stared at him, astonishment and a hint of trepidation in her eyes. “You know
about him?”
He nodded. “The mirror showed me much to prepare me for your
coming. I know about him. I know everything. He is not worthy of you.”
Aimalee snorted a laugh. “Why am I not surprised to hear you
say that?”
“Because it’s true.”
She bristled. “He is a wonderful man. And a great lover.”
“He is not.”
She flushed. Her lips trembled. “You didn’t…watch…that? Did
you? Oh my God. How mortifying.”
Keeshan chuckled. “Indeed not.” That would have been true
torture.
“Then how do you know what kind of lover he is?”
“The measure of a man, of a lover, is not only what happens
in the bedroom, Aimalee. Carter was distant and apathetic about your
relationship in public. How could he be any different in private? And—” Keeshan
bit his tongue. Yes. There was more. But he would not tell her.
Fortunately, Aimalee didn’t notice his hesitation. She fashioned
the long strands of her hair into a loose braid. “That’s hardly the point.” She
glared at him. “I dislike being your sexual slave.”
He arched a brow. “You are hardly my slave.”
“I am if you can make me want you. Against my will.”
Keeshan’s brows came together. He did not care for that
thought in the least. “It was hardly against your will.”
“I didn’t
want
to want you. You made me.”
A creeping discomfort edged its way into his gut. He knew
the incantation made a woman helpless to resist him. He’d never thought of it
as forcing her to want him. How many times had he done that over the millennia?
Without thought? Without reflection? Heat prickled at the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry.”
What else was there to say? He was powerless, unmanned. All
at sea.
“But it’s not just Carter. I miss my home, my friends and,
oh, I miss my work. I was ‘thisclose’ to presenting my dissertation.” She held
her fingers up a tiny bit apart. “I worked on that paper, on that research for
years. It’s always been my dream to get my doctorate in antiquities and just
when that dream is about to come true, I get snatched away. Do you know how
hard it is to be ripped away from everything that’s familiar? Everything you’ve
worked for? Everything you’ve built?”
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
“Oh.” Her brow wrinkled. She cupped his cheek. It took
everything in him not to melt into her. He needed to be strong. For her. For
him. For his own sanity. “Of course you do. You lost her. I’m so sorry.”
His heart gave a little hiccup and his strength failed. He
pressed a kiss on her palm then snaked an arm around her waist. She was too
difficult to resist. Impossible to resist. “Not to worry. I am used to it. I
have been here for a very long time. But Aimalee, please know
I
cannot
release you. I cannot send you home.”
“You can’t?”
“No.”
“Have you ever wanted to release a woman?” She peered up at
him through a curtain of golden hair.
He laughed. “No.”
“So you’ve never tried?”
“Aimalee, the lamp will release you when it is time.”
She frowned, a pout. “And when will it be time?”
But he did not answer.
He could not.
For he did not know how long he would have her.