Heir to a Desert Legacy

chapter TEN



CHLOE LOOKED UP AT SAYID, her pulse pounding. “What exactly do you mean?”

“That’s up to you,” he said, his tone rough. “But I want you to understand that you have power, too.”

There was something strange in his voice, something tight. Something nervous. It made her nervous.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I am going to give you something” He gripped the end of the silk scarf that covered her hair and slid it off, running his fingertips over the smooth fabric.

“What?” she asked, her voice a choked whisper.

He wound the silk around his hands, drawing it tight between them. “Control.”

“But you...you said yourself, you need it.”

“I have never once willingly given it. But tonight, I give it to you.” He let the scarf fall away from his left hand. “We can’t spend the night in separate rooms,” he said. “After tonight it won’t matter. The royal couple never share a room full-time. But tonight, you know we have to.”

She nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She didn’t want to. She wanted to hear what he would say, see what he would do. She was captivated, incapable of resisting.

He walked over to the closet and opened the doors. Her clothes were in there, along with some more traditional Attari garments that had been provided for her. He slid a red scarf off of its hook, wrapping it around his hand.

“Nothing will happen tonight that you do not desire. The power is yours.” He placed both scarves at the foot of the bed, spread them out, then turned to her and tugged his shirt over his head. “My word to you. My promise. This is what I want, Chloe.”

Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of his body. He was broad and muscular, dark hair scattered over his pecs and down washboard abs. She’d never seen a man that looked like him. When the science department had a pool party, the physiques usually ran from slim to doughy, with the color typically best described as fish-belly.

Not Sayid. He was hard, bronzed, utter masculine perfection. And she had no idea what to do with all that man.

“I don’t...why did you take your shirt off?”

“Because, if you want to do it later, it will be difficult.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and picked the scarves up, holding them out to her. She took a step forward and took them from him, running her thumb along the silken fabric.

He looked at her, his dark eyes intense. “I want you to tie my hands.”

Her mouth dropped open, her heart slamming against her breastbone. “I...I can’t...I don’t...what are you...what are you asking me to do?” She thought of him, held captive, at the mercy of those who tortured him, who beat him, and then she thought of him asking her to bind him now. It filled her with a sense of total awe, the power he gave. The trust.

He was telling her to make a choice, forcing her to. To take responsibility for a part of her life rather than simply letting things happen to her. And she wanted to make the choice. Wanted to be the one in charge more than she’d realized.

He pushed himself back into the center of the bed, his muscles shifting and bunching. He put his hands out in front of him. “Tie my hands, and whatever happens after that, will be up to you.”

Fear gripped her around the neck, putting pressure on her throat. That wasn’t surprising. What surprised her was the desire that coiled in her stomach. The knot of lust that told her to do it. To tie his hands, and spend the night with him completely at her mercy. Hers to touch. Hers to explore.

“Think of it as a science experiment,” he said, his voice husky, his eyes dark.

“I’m a theoretical physicist. I don’t actually...do experiments. I...I think about how they work and make an equation. So, I would deduce maybe that me, plus you and these scarves would produce a possibly pleasurable outcome. And then I would...write it down.”

“That doesn’t sound very enjoyable.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s safe.”

“Nothing in life is safe. I think where we are right now, what we did today, proves that.”

She looked back down at the scarves. He was right. Nothing was safe. Plans fell apart. People died. There were no guarantees. A year ago, she’d been a student, trying to make ends meet, resolutely avoiding relationships, never planning on having children.

And now, she was here with Sayid. Married. A mother in every way that counted. And none of the things that she’d counted on to keep her safe had held. None of her plans, her oh-so-well-laid plans, had gone as she’d imagined.

She’d lived safe. She’d lived scared.

And none of it had been living.

These past weeks with Aden had been terrifying. And they had been rewarding in a way that she never could shave anticipated. The love she’d found with him went beyond words.

Then there was Sayid. The feelings he roused in her. The desire. The need. The ache that ran through her core made her want to strip off her every inhibition, made her feel more alive than ever before.

And she could embrace this now, or she could do what she’d always done. What she’d done before Aden. Before her life had changed forever. Or she could keep going forward.

She wrapped the silk around her hand, as he had done earlier, and let herself enjoy his body visually for a moment. Her breasts ached, a hard pulse beating at the apex of her thighs.

She knew about sex. She knew about it in a complete and scientific way, and she had seen it. Seen her parents during their “good” moments, when passion still ruled everything else.

But this really was a science experiment in many ways. A way to have him, while keeping him in a controlled condition. A way to harness his power, to experience it without setting it free.

“Lie back,” she said, not quite recognizing her own voice. “And put your hands behind your head.”

He complied, his movements slow, fluid, his dark eyes never leaving hers. He lay on his back, arms stretched above his head, each ridge of muscle clearly defined, each indrawn breath drawing attention to the perfect definition of his body.

“Are you sure you want to...to do this?”

“I am at your mercy,” he said, black eyes unreadable.

She looked at him, looked into eyes that had seen such horror. “I swear to you,” she said, “I won’t do anything you don’t want, either.” It sounded silly, telling this big, strong man that she would take care of him. But she needed to say it. Needed him to know.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. She sucked in a breath and kneeled down on the edge of the bed, inching toward the center, toward him. She leaned over, then paused. “Kiss me?”

He complied, lifting his head and sliding his tongue over her lips, delving between them. She kissed him back, pouring her hunger, her anger, her fear, into this one act, giving him everything, everything she’d been carrying around inside of herself for so long.

They parted, their breathing harsh. She rested her forehead against his while she worked at getting her heart rate into a steady pace. She took the white scarf, wrapped the end of it around the bedpost, then wrapped the other end around his wrist, making sure the fabric rested flat against his skin.

“Is that okay?” she asked.

He tested the bonds. “Yes,” he said, his voice strained. “Now the other one.”

She repeated the action with the other bedpost and his other hand. “Test it?” He did, and the restraints held tightly. “Too much?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No.”

She let out a long breath and looked at the man spread out before her. Yes, he could get up if he wanted to, could walk away. And that was important to her. Because even though she wanted the control, she didn’t require total domination. She would never become what she despised.

“And now?” she asked.

“Whatever you want.” And that was when she saw his need. His need for her to take the control, if only for a while. To lift the burden of it. To tie his hands and give him something other than the pain that life had offered him.

Which was just perfect, because, here and now, this was exactly what she needed.

“I don’t know where to begin.” She placed her hand flat on his chest, his skin hot beneath her palm. She’d never touched a man like this, had never explored the musculature of the male body.

Her fingers trembled as she slid them over his pecs, over his nipple. She swallowed hard. This was an experiment. Her chance to become familiar with a man’s physical anatomy.

Yes, she could detach herself. Put it there, in the cerebral realm where things were logical and safe. She was a scientist. She was curious. And tonight, she would follow her curiosity where it took her.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Science wasn’t about emotion. It wasn’t about fear. It was about finding facts. And that was what she was doing. Collecting facts.

“You’re very...strong,” she said, fingertips sliding over his abs. “In top physical condition.”

He chuckled, the sound hoarse. “Am I?”

“Yes.” She encountered scar tissue along his abdomen. “Oh...Sayid. You have scars.”

“Lots of them,” he said, and she knew he didn’t just mean on his skin.

“You healed well,” she whispered. At least on the outside. “If they were as severe as they appear to be.”

“They were. And more.”

“Yes. You’re very strong.” Stronger than any man should have to be.

“Are you planning on writing all this on your whiteboard?”

“Possibly.”

“Why are you talking so much?”

“Because I don’t know what else to do,” she said, laughing, the sound nervous and unnatural. “I’ve never been in this position before.” Let him think she only meant with a man tied up and at her mercy. And not just every single thing about the situation.

Until that moment in the hall, she’d never been truly kissed. And now...

Now she was here. But at least the pace would be up to her. How far things went would be up to her. But the scary thing was she didn’t trust herself to stop. The body and brain disconnect at work again.

She leaned down and kissed his lips and he responded, then she abandoned his lips in favor of his neck, his chest. She pressed kisses to his muscles, feeling him stiffen beneath her, his muscles tensing, getting tighter.

“You like that?” she asked.

His only response was a grunt that she took as a yes. She slid down his body, tracing his abs with the tip of her tongue.

His body jerked beneath her.

“If my hands were free....” he said.

“But they aren’t.” She felt herself slipping in to her role. Felt herself relishing the power. In taking some weight from him. In taking control of herself. Her life. “You’re mine tonight.”

She started to reach for his pants. She could see the outline of his erection, thick, much larger than she’d imagined. And she stopped. She wasn’t ready for that, not quite yet.

Skin to skin. That was what she wanted. She reached behind her back and gripped the zipper tab for her dress, tugging it down and letting the bodice fall to her hips, then she quickly undid her bra leaving herself bare from the waist up.

It wasn’t her nudity that filled her with insecurity, at least, not the part of it she’d imagined might bother her.

It was the fact that her stomach wasn’t flat. That deep grooves, evidence of the life she’d carried inside of her, stretched over her entire midsection. It was the fear that it had been too long since she’d breastfed and she might embarrass herself.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Um...what are you thinking?”

“I’m not,” he said. “I can’t think at all, not with you bared to me like this. Not when I’m finally seeing your breasts. Gorgeous.”

“Men are easy to please,” she said.

“In some ways.”

“I’m glad about that.” Because she didn’t know any accomplished, practiced ways to please a man. And she found she did want to please him.

She took a breath and leaned forward, pressing her breasts against his chest. He took a breath and his chest hair scraped against her nipples, the friction sending a shock of pleasure through her body.

“I’m so sensitive there now,” she said. “I never was before. But...oh, you feel so good.”

“So do you.”

She arched her back into him, moving back and forth, the stimulation sending waves of desire from the place where they made contact to the apex of her thighs. She was wet for him, the hollow ache widening inside of her. And she knew exactly what it would take to quench the ache, to fill the emptiness.

And then she was ready for him. To see him, touch him. Interesting, and something she would note later when her brain wasn’t so fuzzy. Arousal, when intensified, seemed to decrease the ability to feel nervous.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants and dragged them down his legs. She paused for a moment just to look at him, to take in her first, up close and personal sight of a naked, erect man.

Chloe reached out and touched his shaft with the tip of her finger. He was hot. Hard. His skin surprisingly smooth. A harsh groan escaped his lips and his body jerked beneath hers again. He wanted free, she could sense it. But he hadn’t asked. And she wouldn’t offer.

Growing bolder, she wrapped her fingers around his length, squeezing him, gently at first, then more tightly. The tighter grasp earned her a sharp hiss of indrawn breath, his muscles so tight they shook.

“Like that?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, biting out a sharp curse. “Yes.”

“I’m not very experienced at this,” she said, glossing over the truth again.

“You’re doing fine.” She squeezed again. “Better than fine.”

“Good.” A shocking thought occurred to her, a craving she’d never imagined she might have. “Do you like it when a woman puts her mouth on you?”

“What?” he asked.

“Do you like oral sex?”

A harsh laugh escaped his lips. “Is there a man who doesn’t?”

“I don’t know. I told you, I don’t have a lot of experience.” She leaned in. “And I’ve never done this before.”

“Chloe...”

She flicked her tongue over the head of his penis, the taste salty, and very much Sayid. She found she liked it. Found that she liked it almost as much as using him to stimulate her body. She cupped him in her hand, teasing his length with her tongue before drawing as much of him into her mouth as she could.

One hand was braced on his thigh and she could feel him shaking beneath her. Could feel how much it cost him to remain bound.

“Chloe,” he said, his voice rough. “You need to stop.”

“I don’t have to, though,” she said, “you’re in my control.”

“Chloe, do you have any idea how close I am?”

She knew what he meant. And she didn’t want it to be over. But she didn’t want to stop tasting him, either. Because the alternative was to go to the next stage and she wasn’t certain she was ready for that, either.

“Chloe,” he said, his tone pleading. “Kiss my lips.”

She slid up his body, deciding to comply with this one demand, taking his mouth, feasting on it. “Scoot up,” he said.

So she did. He lifted his head and captured the tip of her breast with his lips, his tongue flicking over her nipple.

“Careful,” she said, pulling away. “There might be some unwanted consequences to that behavior at the moment.”

She scooted away from him and shimmied the rest of the way out of her dress, leaving her in nothing more than a pair of white lace panties. Again, it was the idea of what her body looked like now. What it looked like to him.

She put her hand over her stomach, trying to hide some of the loose skin and stretch marks.

“Don’t,” he bit out. “Don’t hide from me.” She lowered her hand. “Take your panties off.”

“I’m the one that’s supposed to be in charge. No further than I want, remember?”

“Please,” he said.

Pleasure flooded her, the desperation in his command a magic wand sent to wave away any of her insecurities. He didn’t care about the stretch marks. He didn’t care about the baby weight. She could see from the look on his face, and from the thick, insistent erection he was sporting, that he very much liked what he was seeing. That he was anticipating, greatly, what she would do next.

Well, so was she. “Since you asked so nicely.” She gripped the sides of her panties and drew them down her legs, leaving herself completely bare, completely open to his gaze. Her entire body felt hot, flushed, excitement and nerves vying for equal place inside of her.

A decrease in fear is a direct response to an increase in arousal.

She called up her earlier findings and sucked in a sharp breath, crawling back onto the bed. She rested on her knees, surveying the man spread out before her, trying to decide what she wanted to do next. What she wanted to touch, to taste.

“You’re thinking very hard,” he said.

“I am. But there are a lot of choices here, and I want to make the right one.”

“Why not make them all?” he asked, his voice strained.

A thrill shot through her. “An excellent idea.”

She bent down, bracing her hands on either side of her legs, kissing his leg, running her tongue along his inner thigh. She skipped his erection this time, and it earned her a growl of frustration that she found oddly exhilarating.

She’d never had power in her life, not in any area outside the academic. Her mind had always held a certain amount of it, but her body had been weak. She’d been unable to protect her mother, unable to stop her father. But here and now, her body had power. And she was savoring it, relishing it, this rare, perfect moment when she felt whole. As though her body and brain were, for once, in agreement. Were equal.

She pressed a kiss to his abs, his chest, and then, her thighs on either side of his, her lips just a whisper from his mouth, she leaned in, letting her breath tease him, not touching. He arched up and she backed away, withholding her mouth from him.

He sat up, using his core muscles and pressed his lips to hers, holding the kiss for as long as possible before he lay back down, his breath coming in harsh pants.

“Tease,” he ground out.

“I am, I guess. I hadn’t realized.” She leaned in and ran her tongue along the line of his jaw, nipping his chin.

“Chloe, please,” he said. There was no undertone of begging in his words. They were harsh, raw, desperate. And even in her inexperience, she knew exactly what he wanted.

She only hoped she knew how to give it, that she was ready to give it.

She pressed her body against his, the hard ridge of his arousal coming into contact with her *oris. She hissed out a breath as sparks shot through her.

The theory held. Arousal, need, made her brave.

He was big, but she’d given birth, so this was hardly the place for virginal nerves of that nature. It was more the fear of the unknown, of what might happen. How it would change things.

But nothing in her world was the same as it had been a year ago. Nothing felt the same as it had even two months ago.

One more change. One more new thing.

But at least this one was her decision. At least it was something she wanted. So many things in life had simply happened to her, but not this. She was choosing this. She wanted this. She wanted Sayid.

“I want you,” she said, speaking it, making it real. This was for her. She wanted him, and she would have him. Him, and not fear. Pleasure, and not images of violence and pain. The touch of another human being, closeness. Desire. She could have it, when she’d never before let herself believe that she could.

“Take me.”

She sucked in a breath and reached behind her back, shifting her hips and guiding his erection into her body. She was wet, and it eased the way in as he filled her, stretched her. She winced, a couple of tender places making themselves felt. He flexed his hips, burying himself inside of her completely. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh, her breath stalled out as she tried to acclimate to the invasion on her body, as she tried to process the pleasure, pain and utter feeling of possession.

It took a moment, but the pain faded, leaving a feeling of fullness, intense, wonderful fullness behind.

“Oh...yes,” she breathed. “This is good.”

He flexed his hips, his pelvis pressing against her *oris, sending another shower of pleasure through her. She moved against him, finding that perfect point of contact again, giving herself another dose of that addicting sensation.

“Lift your hips up,” he said.

The instruction was appreciated. She obeyed, his command, the friction of his shaft sliding out of her heightening her pleasure, the motion pushing the sensitive bundle of nerves against his body when she came back down.

She repeated the move again and again, finding a rhythm that tightened the coil of need that rested low in her stomach to an unbearable level. Until she was certain it would break her. Until she was sure she couldn’t endure it anymore.

She quickened her pace, urgency, desperation, pushing toward an end that was nothing more than a shapeless void in her mind. She didn’t know what she was chasing, only that she needed it more than she needed her next breath.

And then the tension shattered, tiny shards of pleasure bursting through her. She raked her nails down his chest, over his abs, as her release dug into her, holding her captive, making it impossible to think or breathe, to do anything but simply ride the wave as it broke over her, to give herself over utterly, completely to the physical world. There was no reason here, no logic, no cold buffer of fact and science to make her an observer.

Then he thrust his hips hard, a harsh sound escaping his lips, his chest muscles contracting beneath her hands as his own orgasm took him over. She bent and took his mouth, catching every last sound of release on her tongue. And it consumed her. Utterly. Completely. It was passion, in its most raw, undiluted form.

And she didn’t fear it. Instead, she let it take her under.