but...’
‘Stephanie, it’s not shocking. It is a very natural thing, and it can be a very pleasurable thing.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. Passion is not only the province of fallen women. Even respectable women experience desire.’
‘I’m not sure that I want to be respectable. If you’re right, and we proved last night that our overriding priority will always be curing the sickness, then I would like to—what exactly are you suggesting, Rafiq?’
‘That we indulge our passion in whatever way we choose,’ he said, taking her hand and kissing the tip of her little finger. ‘When we can safely do so without fear of compromising our other duties.’ He kissed the next finger. ‘That you can choose just how much or how little you wish to give.’ Another kiss, on her middle finger. ‘That you can put an end to it at any time, without fear of the consequences.’ He sucked on the tip of her index finger. ‘And above all that we take pleasure in what we do. Whatever we do.’ He drew her thumb into his mouth, smiling wickedly. ‘Is that a proposal you can agree to, do you think?’
She shivered. ‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked seriously.
‘Yes,’ she said, smiling again. ‘Now that I have agreed Rafiq, do you think we should...?’
‘Yes.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘I think we should begin immediately.’
Stephanie was nervous, he could sense it in the slightly brittle tone of her voice. ‘One word from you and we will go no further,’ Rafiq said.
‘I know.’
He thought fleetingly, vengefully, of the bungling, selfish, dishonourable man who had betrayed her, before dismissing him as beneath contempt. He would make sure this experience was as different from her last in every possible way. He pushed back her hair to kiss the fluttering pulse at her temple. ‘Try to stop that impressively large brain of yours from thinking and concentrate on your body instead.’
She chuckled weakly. ‘I am not sure if I can.’
‘Then let me assist you.’ He kissed her carefully, soothing kisses, focusing his attention completely on her, wanting only her pleasure. He kissed her eyes, her temples, her mouth, fluttering kisses that sought nothing in return, and gradually she relaxed, her lids closing, her mouth softening under his, then returning the pressure, her tongue touching his, her body melting.
He laid her down on the cushions, easing his body away from hers, reining in his own sudden jolt of passion. Her eyes flickered open. ‘Nothing,’ he said, reading the question contained there, ‘you need do nothing.’
‘But I want to. Don’t you want me to...?’
‘Yes.’ His body rather graphically agreed, but he ignored it. ‘I do want you to, very much, but not yet. Before we discover each other, you must first discover yourself.’
He decided, for once, to follow his instincts. He knew how to please a woman, but this was Stephanie. Such a very different woman. He kissed his way down her throat. He smoothed his hand down her side, brushing the outside of her breast, watching her nipple burgeon under her tunic. He watched her as he cupped her breast, teasing her nipple, when she shifted very slightly to encourage him. He knew himself to be an accomplished lover, but never before had he made love like this, so careful of her, every move only for her, in response to her.
She reached for him, seeking his mouth, and he kissed her. Her tongue, her lips, made it difficult to think. He unfastened the buttons on the front of her tunic. He kissed her breast, sucking through the silk of her camisole, making her shift restlessly on the cushions, making her want something, something more. His mouth on her other nipple? Yes, and his hands, stroking her flanks, pushing her tunic higher, stroking the inside of her thighs through her pantaloons.
She tensed. What next? she seemed to be asking him. He kissed her in answer to her silent question. She kept her eyes closed. Her breathing was shallow and fast. Her body beside him on the cushions was burning hot, the brush of her hair silky on his skin. Gently, he eased her legs apart. She did not resist, though she tensed again. What now?
‘Stephanie, should I stop?’
She opened her eyes. They were heavy with desire. ‘No,’ she said. And then when he hesitated, ‘Please, don’t stop.’
He unfastened the sash at her waist. His fingers on the bare skin of her belly made her shiver. He slid his hand down, covering her, cupping her in that most intimate place, kissing her slowly on the mouth. ‘There is no hurry, no need to rush,’ he whispered.
‘No,’ she murmured.
Another kiss, and his tongue slid inside her mouth, and his fingers slid between her legs, and she cried out, a hoarse, harsh sound that he mistook at first for pain, until she clenched around him. She was slick, wet, tight. His shaft swelled, his groin tightened in response. Still his focus remained only on Stephanie. Her needs were his. His fingers slid over her and around her, teasing her and stroking her, making her body arch under him. Little whimpering noises encouraged him and aroused him. He kissed her, stroked her, coaxing her to a climax with his mouth and his tongue and his fingers. She was close, she was closer, and then with a wild cry her climax took her, shook her, so violently that she clung to him as if he would save her from drowning in pleasure.
When it was over, she opened her eyes and she loosened her grip and she smiled languorously at him, a smile that made him catch his breath. ‘I had no idea,’ she said.
And that was his satisfaction. It was better than release. Who would have thought it! He laughed then, with sheer delight, holding her closely, feeling his laughter reverberate against her chest. ‘And now you do,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ she replied, with a sated smile. ‘Now I do. Thank you.’
‘Stephanie,’ Rafiq said, kissing her, ‘believe me, the pleasure was entirely mutual.’ And he meant it.
* * *
Rafiq retied the sash at the waist of her pantaloons. He buttoned up the front of her tunic. He kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘Now we will eat, and satisfy a different appetite. There is an ante-room through that curtain where you may first refresh yourself.’
There were rose petals scenting the water in the urn. There was a fresh cake of soap in a dish. There was a stack of soft towels. And a mirror. Stephanie stared at her reflection, wondering that she did not look more different. Her complexion had a rosy blush to it and her hair had escaped from her scarf, and her lips—yes, it was obvious that her lips had been satisfyingly kissed. She wrapped her arms around her waist. Those kisses had not been the only satisfying thing. She still couldn’t quite believe it. That Rafiq had—and then she had...
And the result had been earth-shattering. So much, much more than she could have imagined. As if her body had broken into a million little shards of indescribably intense light. When it ended, when she sank slowly back from the sparkling sky where she had been flying, she felt as if she was reassembled in a different manner. Her smile had a touch of smugness to it now. She was just a little bit pleased with herself.
‘Harlot,’
