The Pirate Prince Page 11

  That thought brought a frown to Dariq’s handsome face and a pain in the vicinity of his heart. Ibrahim was not known for his gentle nature. Most of his concubines feared him, and with good reason. His brother was a difficult man, one who had his concubines beaten with the bastinado when they displeased him. Dariq couldn’t bear the thought of any part of Willow’s silken flesh being bruised.

  “Why are you frowning?” Willow asked.

  “I just had an unpleasant thought.” He pushed those thoughts aside. It would be a long time before Ahmed returned with Ibrahim’s reply to his terms for the trade. “But ’tis gone now; you have my undivided attention.”

  He reached for her. She flinched away, but the thought that she couldn’t escape him made him smile. He wanted to give her pleasure even if he had to deny his own. He had no idea why he was willing to put himself through that kind of torture, except that he adored the look on Willow’s face when she peaked. He had seen it once and wanted to see it again … and yet again. Her pleasure was his pleasure.

  “I am going to remove your vest,” Dariq murmured.

  He smothered her protests with a kiss while he effortlessly removed her vest and tossed it aside. She went still beneath him, which he took as a good sign. He didn’t want to frighten her; he just wanted to love her in every way except the one way he couldn’t.

  Willow tried to shield her breasts, but Dariq wouldn’t allow it. He bore her down against the cushions and held her wrists above her head with one hand while he nibbled and suckled her nipples. He trembled with excitement and need. Just touching Willow like this drove him mad with wanting. It took all of his willpower to recall why she must remain virginal.

  He unfastened her girdle and tossed it aside. He kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth in imitation of what he really wanted to do to her. He groaned as his cock lifted and filled with blood.

  Suddenly he yelped and reared back. “Why in the name of Allah did you bite me?”

  She gave him a smug smile. “I wanted you to know I am not a willing participant in what you are doing.”

  “Do you know what would happen if you did that to Ibrahim?”

  “He would not want me, which would suit me just fine.”

  “You are naive if you think that. He would have you beaten, and then he would take you while you were too weak to resist. Or he would drug you into compliance.”

  “Drug me?” Willow whispered. “He would do that?”

  “Aye, he would, beauty. You would be fed something to make you so desperate for a man, you would beg for his attention. You would welcome him with open arms… and legs,” he added crudely.

  Willow gasped, her eyes bright with fright, though Dariq knew from experience that she didn’t frighten easily. She was a woman who deserved better than what he intended for her. The least he could do was give her a taste of pleasure before she was used so ruthlessly by Ibrahim.

  “I did not mean to frighten you, beauty,” Dariq apologized, “but ’tis best that you do not go to Ibrahim ignorant of his cruel nature or his methods of controlling a woman’s rebelliousness. It will go easier on you if you accept your fate.”

  Willow shuddered. “Never! Have you no compassion? No conscience? I beg you, send me home. Do not give me to a man you despise—a man who abuses his women.”

  Even if Dariq chose not to send Willow to Ibrahim, he knew he wouldn’t send her home. He would keep her for himself. The thought had crossed his mind more than once, despite the knowledge that keeping her would spell his mother’s doom.

  “You will learn to survive,” Dariq said, keeping his voice deliberately passionless despite the turmoil roiling inside him.

  “If you insist on sending me to Ibrahim, the least you can do is tell me for whom I am being exchanged.”

  “Aye,” Dariq said thoughtfully, “I suppose you are right. But first you should know more about my brother than I have told you. He is our father’s eldest son. My mother was Father’s only wife, but he had many concubines with whom he had sons and daughters. Ibrahim was born before Father met and wed my mother in a Christian ceremony. Mother is known as Saliha Sultana. When Father died three years ago, the sultanate passed to Ibrahim. It mattered not to me, for I never wanted what rightfully belonged to my brother.

  “Two years ago, Ibrahim went on a rampage, killing all of Father’s male heirs. He feared that one day the heirs would rise up and overthrow him. He was coming to kill me when Mother warned me of his intent. She begged me to flee. I wanted to take her with me, but she refused. She said the mothers of the slain children needed her.

  “When I refused to leave without her, Mustafa, the captain of my personal guard at the time, knocked me unconscious and carried me to my ship. For a while, Mother lived in the harem without fear of harm, but I began to hear rumors about her safety that led me to ask Ibrahim, through an emissary, for her release into my custody. Thus far, Ibrahim has refused.

  “You see, my brother wants me to stop interfering with his shipping and has threatened to slay my mother if I do not surrender myself to him. I dare not go to Istanbul, for Ibrahim’s janizaries have orders to kill me on sight.”

  “Your mother,” Willow whispered shakily. “Now I understand why you are so determined to negotiate a trade.”

  “I cannot allow Ibrahim to kill my mother. She is very dear to me.”

  Willow moved restlessly against him; he felt the erotic friction of her breasts against his chest, and his randy cock reminded him why he had summoned the blond beauty to his chamber. It certainly wasn’t to discuss his problems.

  “Do you remember what I said about pleasuring you on silken sheets?”

  He felt her shudder. Scooping her into his arms, he carried her to his bed. The bed had already been turned down; he placed her on rose-colored silk sheets and whipped off her skirts, the only piece of clothing left to her. Then he began to strip off his own clothing, his piercing silver gaze daring her to watch.

  Willow wanted to look away but could not. Dariq was magnificent, every part of him masculine and virile, all corded muscles and rippling tendons. His skin appeared as if warmed by the sun; his features were sharply defined, as if honed in granite. While ropes of muscles sculpted his torso, his slim waist and hips gave the impression of pantherlike sleekness. His bronze flesh and black hair made him look exotic, but his features and silver eyes proclaimed his English blood.

  Her gaze slid over him, then skittered away when she saw his manhood springing up from the dark forest between his legs. Her gaze immediately returned to his face.

  “There is naught to be afraid of,” Dariq said. “Roll over, beauty, you are too tense. Let me help you relax.”

  Willow’s breath caught when Dariq placed his hands on her hip and shoulder and turned her onto her stomach. “What are you going to do?”

  He reached into a basket on the nightstand and retrieved a vial of liquid, rubbing it between his palms to warm it. Then he removed the stopper and poured a small amount into his palm; he rubbed his hands together to distribute the liquid equally.

  “What is that?”

  “Fragrant oil—can you smell it? ’Tis very soothing. Breathe deeply of the scent while I massage it into your skin.”

  When his palms flattened on her back, she stiffened. Then her skin began to tingle. Heat followed the erotic path of his hands as they moved in slow, sensuous circles over her shoulders, back and buttocks. Not only did Willow begin to relax, but the oil’s aroma was having a strange effect on her.

  She felt herself drifting on a sensual fog. Her skin became so sensitive that his lightest touch was pure torture. When he began massaging the insides of her thighs, Willow couldn’t stop the tiny moan that escaped her lips. Then he touched her more intimately, his fingers slipping into the division between her buttocks and following it to the swollen lips of her sex.

  Willow summoned a protest, but her voice was suddenly too weak to voice it. She knew that what Dariq was doing to her was sinful, and
the way it made her feel was wicked, but she couldn’t help herself. Her mind and body were no longer hers to command. The oil intensified the sensations of her body while its aroma addled her brain.

  Dariq eased her over on her back, dribbled more oil onto his hands and began to massage her breasts, giving her pouting nipples special attention. By the time his hands left her breasts and slid over her stomach, Willow was writhing and moaning beneath him, the movement of her hips begging for his intimate touch.

  “Your skin is like silk,” Dariq whispered. His palm cupped her smooth mound, and then he kissed her there. “Especially here.” He spread her thighs, kissing her between them. “How do you feel?” he asked.

  Willow stirred. Dariq’s voice sounded as if it came from a great distance. “What did you do to me? Did you drug me?”

  “Nay, beauty, it’s the aroma of the oil. It can be overpowering to one unaccustomed to the scent. It makes you feel wonderfully relaxed, does it not?”

  “I feel… strange.”

  “I know. Open your legs for me; I can make you feel better.”

  Willow obeyed even though she knew she should not. He slid down her body, opened the petals of her sex and touched her with his tongue. She nearly jumped off the bed.

  “Did you feel pleasure?” he murmured.

  “I feel like my skin is on fire and my bones are melting,” she gasped.

  He lowered his head and laved the slick folds of her sex with his mouth and tongue. He played her body like a finely tuned instrument while she helplessly responded to the strains of his melody. This couldn’t be happening to her. She’d never known she was capable of feeling the kind of intense pleasure Dariq was giving her. It overwhelmed her to the point of madness. When Dariq reached up to fondle her nipples, she exploded, her orgasm so strong, she feared she would shatter into a thousand pieces.

  Slowly Willow regained her wits, disturbingly aware of another erotic sensation. She opened her eyes to find Dariq lying beside her, a predatory grin spreading across his face as he tickled her breasts with a peacock feather. She could feel his extremely hard, exceedingly thick manhood prodding her leg.

  She wanted to touch him… badly, and that shocked her. She had never been shy or retiring, but neither had she been overbold about sexual matters. It had to be the oil that was making her long for things she shouldn’t.

  “Go ahead, touch me,” Dariq said, as if reading her mind.

  Was that a quiver she heard in his voice? She dared a glance at his staff; it was erect and growing. That couldn’t be comfortable. She recalled how she had touched him aboard the Revenge, and how his seed had spewed forth when his excitement reached its peak. Some perverse devil inside her wanted to do that to him again.

  She heard him suck in his breath when she reached over and curled her fingers around him. He was hard yet soft, firm yet yielding, and so enormous her fingers didn’t reach around him. She started to release him but he grabbed her wrist, holding it in place so she couldn’t move her hand away. Willow had no choice but to begin the motion that she knew would give Dariq pleasure.

  She worked her hand up and down, watching his face grow tense, feeling his body harden. She was waiting for the eruption she knew was inevitable when he flung her hand aside and mounted her.

  “The hell with Ibrahim,” he growled. “I will perish if I cannot have you.”

  She felt his staff prodding the entrance of her sex and attempted to push him away. “Dariq …!”

  He kissed her into silence. His mouth was soft and persuasive, his tongue an erotic force thrusting into her mouth. She was growing dizzy, drunk on the excitement of Dariq’s seduction. His body was heavy upon hers, but she welcomed the weight; somehow it seemed right. Her bones were melting; she wanted him inside her but couldn’t find the courage to express her sinful wishes.

  She moved her hips in blatant invitation; she felt him push inside her a little ways and then stop. He touched his forehead to hers, his chest heaving as if he had run a great distance.

  “Allah help me. I never meant for this to happen.” His voice was a ragged plea that fell upon deaf ears.

  A sudden, desperate thought came to Willow. If Dariq took her virginity, Ibrahim would not want her, and perhaps, just perhaps, Dariq would send her home. Her resistance melted with that thought and she relaxed.

  Dariq flexed his hips, preparing for the final thrust that would destroy her virginity, when a loud knock shattered the moment.

  Lifting his head, Dariq frowned at the door. “Go away!”

  “I’ve brought Safiye to you, my lord,” Mustafa shouted through the panel.

  “Go away!” Dariq repeated.

  “But, master, Safiye can satisfy your needs.”

  “If you do not go away, Mustafa, I will have your head lopped off.”

  Silence.

  “Master, it is I, Safiye. Send the English houri away and let me pleasure you.”

  A low growl formed in Dariq’s throat. “Leave immediately, Safiye, and take Mustafa with you!”

  The sound of retreating footsteps grew distant, and then disappeared. Dariq gazed into Willow’s eyes, thrust his hips forward and completed the act. A sharp pain tore into her, through her, and she screamed. Dariq covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries until she grew quiet and began to kiss him back.

  He was panting hard when he finally came up for air. “Did I hurt you?”

  “You could have warned me. I… had no idea. Is it always like that?”

  “Nay, just this one time. I never intended for this to happen. This is the first time I’ve ever lost control with a woman. Lust is a powerful emotion, but with you I fear it is more than that.” He began to move inside her. “Does it still hurt?”

  “A little.”

  But it didn’t hurt for long. As Dariq moved inside her the pain disappeared, replaced by a sensation like nothing she had ever felt before. At first it was a tingling where they were joined. Then heat spread through her body, unbearable, throbbing heat that surged through her veins. She wanted to feel him deeper, feel him harder, feel him melt into her, become a part of her. Then she shattered; the pleasure was so intense, she lost the ability to think. She was nearly in an insensate state when she heard Dariq call her name and felt his hot seed splash against her womb.

  Dariq’s last thought was that his unquenchable lust for Willow could very well mean his mother’s death.

  Chapter Eight

  Dariq rolled onto his back and flung an arm over his eyes. He had just made the biggest mistake of his life, and there was no way to rectify it. He had acted like an irresponsible fool, putting his own pleasure before his mother’s life.

  “I’m worthless to you now,” Willow said hopefully.

  Dariq lowered his arm and stared at her, a thoughtful look on his face. “Perhaps all is not lost. You are still as tight as a virgin, and there’s a way to substitute virgin’s blood where there is none.”

  Willow’s expression was one of stunned disbelief. “You mean you still intend to give me to Ibrahim?”

  “I love my mother,” he said simply. “I cannot let her die.”

  Willow pulled the sheet over her nude body. A heavy silence throbbed between them.

  When Dariq spoke next, his voice was devoid of all emotion. “If I trade my own life for my mother’s, there is no guarantee Ibrahim would let my mother live once I am dead.”

  “You would sacrifice yourself?”

  “Aye, if I must.”

  Willow chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Perhaps there is another way.”

  “Aye, I will think on it. Perhaps Ibrahim will not know your maidenhead is missing. Then again, he might insist that one of his physicians examine you before the trade is completed. My brother trusts me no more than I trust him, and with good reason.”

  “All will be lost if a physician examines me.”

  “I would not let it go that far,” Dariq said fiercely.

  “I am sorry,” Willow said. She shou
ld have fought harder against Dariq’s sensual assault, but she had hoped her lack of virginity would lead to her release. She should have known better.

  “I hold myself responsible for what happened,” Dariq replied. “I must now make things right. Go now, before I take you again. One time with you has but whetted my appetite. I must not take you again, and I cannot I trust myself alone with you.” He turned away from her. “My lack of self-control is unforgivable. You emasculate me, beauty. You test my control as no woman ever has before.”

  He surged from the bed in one fluid motion and dragged on his trousers. Willow arose also, looking for her discarded clothing. Dariq plucked her caftan from the floor and dropped it over her head. Then he gathered her clothes and thrust them into her arms. Turning away, he shouted for Mustafa. The giant burst into the chamber immediately, as if he had been waiting outside the door for Dariq’s summons.

  Mustafa shot Willow an assessing glance before turning his attention to Dariq. “What is your wish, master?”

  “Return Lady Willow to the harem and then attend me in my chamber.”

  His expression grim, Mustafa bowed and ushered Willow from the chamber. He returned a short time later to find Dariq prowling his chamber like a caged animal.

  “I warned you, did I not?” Mustafa reproached. “I hope she was worth it.”

  “You don’t know what happened; you can only surmise.”

  “I know you, my lord prince, better than you know yourself. When you summoned Lady Willow to your chamber, I knew how it would end, even if you did not. You must send her away, for she is useless to you now.”

  Dariq disagreed. “Why would I do that? She can still be useful.”

  Mustafa searched Dariq’s face. “Do you intend to keep her for yourself?”

  Dariq shifted uncomfortably. “Although that option is still open to me, there is another.”