Zahra

He lies next to me. His chest rising and falling. Breaths even and relaxed.

Mahmud, you'll make an amazing king.

A smile breaks across my face. I'm unable to fall asleep with him next to me. My body is restless. A tightening in my chest as I glance over at his sleeping form.

Why did I say he could share the bed with me?

For some reason, every part of me, even the secret parts, are wanting something I know he cannot give me.

We belong together... he'd said it. Did he mean more?

"Mahmud," I whisper into the darkness. Maybe he's still awake.

He doesn't answer, his chest continues to rise and fall evenly.

"Mahmud?" I say again, this time a little louder.

No reply comes so this time I feel as if I can say it, "I want you, Mahmud. As a woman wants a man. It would ruin everything, but still... I ache for you." My hand reaches to touch his lightly.

"You ache for me?" Mahmud answers back in the dark.

My eyes widen and I gasp. "You're not asleep?" I ask, my face burns and I'm not sure if I want to shove him off the bed for pretending or laugh.

"Where do you ache, Zahra?" Mahmud asks, his voice is husky and low. The hand I'd touched entwines fingers with mine. It sends a thrill through my whole being.

My heart aches. My breasts aches. Between my legs... aches.

"I don't want to ruin our friendship," I whisper, my voice cracking.

"Ruin it?" Mahmud whispers back. There is no one in the room to hear us, but we both keep our voices hushed.

"Our friendship," I say. "It's sacred to me. I wouldn't want to lose it by—"

"Why would it ruin our friendship?" Mahmud asks, he reaches for me, his strong arms bring me to his chest. My face buries into him and I inhale his scent. He smells and feels so good holding me close. I want to memorize this moment forever. "Maybe we forget that rule for tonight, Zahra? I could die tomorrow if the king doesn't like what I have to say."

"Okay, Mahmud, just for tonight... let's forget," I murmur, my lips press a kiss to the skin of his shoulder. A deep sound in his throat of enjoyment urges me to press on. I kiss from his shoulder to his neck, but then he cups my jaw in his hand and brings my lips to his.

This has to be a dream.

I sigh against his lips as we kiss. First we kiss lightly, both of us shy of the other, but then the gods take hold of me, I become brazen and unfettered, lips craving more from him. He is encouraged by my lust and responds in kind, devouring me, encouraging my arms to wrap around him and my hips to press up against his thigh.

Mahmud's hands begin to wander over me as we kiss. He palms my left breast, and even with the fabric covering them I react to his touch with a moan. He growls and continues to feel me. "Zahra," he says, parting from our kiss to speak. "May I—I see you?"

The way he asks. It's as if my body is a treasure to him. I'll never forget it as long as I live.

"Yes, please," I groan, my eyes hooded, and deep in my belly there is a pleasurable coiling sensation.

Mahmud pulls the ties on the fabric of my dress till it's loose enough to pull the fabric down and away from my breasts. "Oh gods, your breasts are so beautiful."

I respond by taking his hand in my own and kissing his fingers, then bringing it to cup my bared breast. He dips his head down to put his lips on the tightened bud of my rosy nipple. His tongue hotly presses against that sensitive place and he moans into me. I gaze down and watch him suckle me, his dark eyebrows furrowing in enjoyment, the dark stubble on his face and sturdy nose nuzzling into my softness and I'm overwhelmed by it.

"That feels so good, Mahmud," I whisper hoarsely. He pulls the fabric from my other breast and gives her the same attention he gave her sister. "Ohh, why is this so good?" I ask the gods more than Mahmud.

What are we doing?

"Zahra, what you do to me," he rasps against my breast. "I've wanted to do this... since that first day."

What? He's always been attracted to me?

We're lying on the bed, tangled up in each other and my hand runs down his abdomen, lower, lower, until I can feel the bulge of his heat straining against his trousers. My fingers trace the outline of him, I'm filled with curiosity over this.

I shift my hips to press the apex of my thighs up against the ridge of that heat and I rub up and down that hard length until I'm dizzy with need. "Mahmud, if we... if we do this. Really do this. Would it be wrong for us?"

"I don't care if it's wrong," Mahmud growls, greedily kissing and sucking on my breasts, his fingers stab into the soft flesh possessively, he thrusts his hips into my spread legs to meet my grinding. "Gods, I want you," he says. I'm in awe at the transformation of this normally proper, polite, and self-conscious man to the savage before me now.

One of his hands releases my breasts and he bunches my skirts up till he's found my secret place. I gasp and grasp his wrist. "Gently," I say. "I'm so sensitive there."

He rises and covers over me, gazing into my eyes as his fingers carefully intrude upon me. "You're so wet here, what is this?"

"And you're so hard, what's that about?" I ask with a silly grin, but when I realize Mahmud is actually serious about the question I giggle and say, "Don't you know when a woman is—uh—interested—her body readies for her man to have her by getting wet?"

My mother had explained sex to me and I realize it is quite possible Mahmud has no clue about female anatomy and sex with the parents and culture he's been raised in.

"You're interested in me then?" Mahmud asks, his expression filled with wonder is adorable.

I laugh. "Yes, Mahmud, I already told you, you make me ache." I guide his hand and when his thumb slides over my clitoris I shudder in pleasure.

"Can I see you? There?" Mahmud's animal side is back and a shiver runs through me.

"I'll show you mine if you let me see yours," I say, giggling again, taking his jaw in my free hand to lead him down to kiss my lips.