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Chapter 201

Author: Blaze Nukko
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

When he took her hand and placed it against his own body she almost sobbed with pleasure. Her hands were long and slender, but the hard swollen length of him extended beyond her outstretched fingertips. Orla closed her eyes, pleasure a dark velvet blanket of sensuality behind her closed eyelids. She ached as though she had a fever for the feel of him inside her. She had had no idea there could be desire like this—instant, immediate, hot and hungry, a need that burned everything else into oblivion and drove a person on relentlessly until it was sated.

No doubt if Arni knew the truth about her he would think her very unworldly not to have experienced something like this before. Unlike him!

How many times…? How many women…? That thought burned through her in a hot agony of molten jealousy that stabbed through her, stiffening her body into rigid rejection of what she was feeling and thinking.

Abruptly she was shocked back into reality, her desire chilling into sick self-disgust. What was
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    The discovery in the morning that Arni had returned to Mumbai had given her a breathing space that had enabled her to think logically and practically about her situation and her options. She had reasoned that financially she could not afford to break her contract, whilst emotionally and sexually she could not afford to mirror her mother's folly in falling in love with the wrong man and going to bed with him.Arni inhabited a world in which the super-rich called nowhere home. It was unlikely that their paths would ever cross again once she had finished her work here. Reasonably, therefore, all she had to do was keep her distance from him until life put an even greater distance between them. Once it had, she could ache all she wanted for him, in the secure knowledge that all she could do was ache. It is better to burn with unappeased longing than to be destroyed by the acid corrosion of shame and self-disgust.And anyway, now she was alert to her own danger, she had herself properly und

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    Orla’s heart sank as she stood in the main entrance hall of the palace. Her driver had just brought her the unwelcome news that he was not going to be driving her to her appointment but that instead Arni was going to take her and that he would join her shortly.Up above her was the gallery she had just walked along, which separated the main part of the palace from the women’s quarters, where once they had lived in Purdah.Purdah! The concealment of a woman’s face and body from the eyes of all men except those of her immediate family. Some see it as a form of protection, while others see it as a form of imprisonment.As a Western woman, the very thought of enduring Purdah was beyond comprehension.But wasn’t the reality that what she herself was enduring, and had endured for most of her life, was in its own way an inner form of Purdah, imposed on her by her own fears? Her Purdah means that her emotions and desires must always remain hidden away, denied the light of day for her own prote

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    ‘And now, Miss, if you will come, please, and see your shelves?’ Mr. Singh invited them once they had gone through the formality of drinking tea.Mr. Singh led them into an anteroom of the factory, where Orla’s shelving had been put on display.To her relief, it was exactly what she had wanted: constructed in sections so that it could be put together in different combinations, to cover an entire wall or merely part of it, with either a low or high profile. These particular shelves had been painted black and then rubbed down for a modern look.Orla went up to them to inspect them properly, checking the quality of the paintwork and then testing the shelves themselves for stability."They are good, yes?" the factory owner asked eagerly."Yes," Orla confirmed.The factory owner’s mobile phone rang. As he turned aside to answer it, Orla ran her hand along the underside of one of the shelves, wincing when her finger was pierced by a small splinter of wood and quickly withdrawing her hand to

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    Ralapur was up ahead,’ Arni told her, and sure enough, as Orla peered through the windscreen, she could see here and there the glimmer of lights.Arni picked up speed again, leaving the storm behind, and they came to the new Tarmac road—commissioned and paid for, she had learned, by Arni’s brother, who was proving to be a forward-thinking and caring figurehead. The Tarmac gleamed wet under the drum of the rain, but at least it was free of any surface water.By the time they reached the city car park, the rain had actually almost stopped, but the storm was obviously following them.If you want to stay here whilst I go and get you a raincoat and an umbrella, Arni offered, as he switched off the engine.Orla shook her head. "No, I’ll come with you," she told him. She’d rather risk getting a bit wet and having the safety of his presence than remain dry and stay in the car on her own.Come on, then.’They were only yards from the square in front of the palace when the storm caught up with

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    "I want you," Orla whispered. And as though the admission had released her from all constraint, she could feel the wild, wanton rush of her own hot desire as it stormed through her body, overpowering everything that stood in its way. "I want you," she repeated unsteadily, but more loudly. ‘I want you...’‘How? How do you want me? Tell me. Show me. "Show me your desire. Show me the way you want me to please you. Talk to me in words and tell me your pleasure.’What he was asking of her was impossible, but that didn’t stop his words from exciting her almost unbearably.Their bodies gave off a mutual heat of need through the wet fabric of their clothes. She could smell it, feel it, and breathing it in was like breathing in something headily intoxicating.And then thunder roared overhead, and lightning spat and forked—and Orla’s heartbeat went into overdrive.She registered the rise and fall of Arni’s chest with a small shuddering breath. In the dim light, his eyes shone molten like mercur

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    Arni’s hands were shaping her naked body, stroking down to her thighs and then up over her. His fingertips, spanning the smoothness of her body and then lifting her so that he could press her into his arousal, had her raking her nails down the length of his upper arm, whilst she sobbed her sexual heat into the wet flesh of his throat.Had she parted her own thighs in open willingness, soliciting his long and deliberately erotic exploration of her intimate flesh, or had Arni parted them himself?Orla had no idea, and she cared even less. She couldn't think or exist beyond the sensual stroke of his fingertip backwards and forwards over her clitoris.Possessed by the desire that had materialized as quickly as the storm, Orla tugged and tore at Arni's clothes, shuddering with blatant sexual pleasure at each touch of his hands on her naked rain-sleek skin, moaning her delight and inciting more intimacy as each touch fueled her hunger for more.Here in this room, filled with the heat they t

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    Slowly and wonderingly, she reached out to touch him, running her fingertips along his breastbone and then down his body, through the soft dark hair that thickened around the Nihale of his hardness.Her chest rose and then fell sharply as her senses responded to the intimacy of her exploration, and uncertainly, she stroked delicately along the rigid shaft.Arni shuddered. What Orla was doing to him was sheer torment, and she must have known it. He wanted to be enclosed by her, to be held firm, to feel her body embracing and caressing him. He wanted to take her and hold her and thrust deep into her. He wanted to feel her body’s desire for his. He wanted to lose himself in her. He wantedOrla could feel the heavy, uneven thud of Arni’s heartbeat, could taste the unique hot salt of his skin. "I want you," she told him, breathing the words out against his skin, the raw uneven huskiness of her voice matching the unsteadiness of her heartbeat. ‘Make love to me, Arni.’Her hands flat against

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    Clearly embarrassed, Aaliyah determinedly changed the subject to Hazem and how fast he was growing. But although Kate smiled and made token conversation, her mind was whirling. If Malika’s family had expected her to marry Ahsan, was she the woman he had been engaged to years ago—the woman Jamila had said he had loved? But, if so, why had they not married? It didn’t make sense, and she brooded miserably as she stared at Ahsan. He was smiling at Malika and clearly enjoying her company. Perhaps they had argued and broken off their engagement. Was he now regretting his lost chance to marry a beautiful, clever Arab girl who would have made him the perfect wife?From that moment on, the party became a blur of faces and stilted conversation with people she had never met before. She was sure they viewed her as an oddity, with her pale skin and vivid hair—and her glaring lack of sophistication. But until his father had recovered, Ahsan was king, and one of her wifely duties outside of the bedr

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