Page 10 of Beloved

Turning her about again, he set her back from him and stood gazing upon her nude beauty.

Surprised by his firm action, and stunned to find herself naked before a man, Zenobia stood quietly under his inspection for several long moments.

She had absolutely no idea what he expected of her—if indeed he expected anything other than compliance.

Having studied her quite thoroughly from the front, the prince walked slowly around his new wife, viewing her from every possible angle.

“My lord,”

Zenobia whispered, half-afraid.

“What do you want of me?”

Roused from his reverie, he realized her discomfort and gently drew her into his arms.

“Zenobia,”

he said softly, his voice strangely thick to her ear, “I have seen many beautiful women in my time, but never have I seen a woman as perfect, as flawless as you, my flower.”

“Then you want me?”

“Want you?!”

The words were almost strangled in his throat.

“I have wanted you for weeks now, you little idiot!”

“I think I want you,”

she said softly, and he laughed.

“How can you know what you want, my little virgin bride? I am the only man who has ever touched you, but you liked it, Zenobia.

Oh yes, my flower, you liked it.

Just now when you knelt to take my sandals off you wanted to touch me.”

She blushed.

“How could you know that?”

“Because I am a man, and I know women.”

He smoothed his hand down her back beneath her hair to caress and fondle a buttock.

Surprised, she jumped, and he murmured against her ear, “No, my flower, don’t be frightened.

I know how innocent you are, and we will go slowly.

There should never be haste between a man and a woman, only time to enjoy.”

His hand tipped her face up to his, and he tenderly kissed her.

“I love you, Zenobia, Princess of Palmyra.”

He kissed the tip of her nose.

“I love your pride and your independence.”

He kissed her eyelids, which had closed at his first sweet assault.

“I love your beauty and your innocence, but most of all I love just you, my little desert flower.

I should not have married you had I not loved you.”

Bending slightly, he swung her up in his arms and carried her across the room to lay her on their marriage bed.

Her heart was hammering wildly in her ears and her eyes were shut tight; but she heard his voice teasingly say, “I have studied you most carefully, my darling, and now I offer you the same opportunity.”

She heard the rustle of cloth as he drew off his interior tunic.

“Open your eyes, Zenobia,”

he commanded her, and there was laughter in his voice.

“A man’s body is nothing to fear.

If anything it is amusing, for it has not the beauty of form that a woman’s has.

I, however, think I am rather pretty as far as men go.”

A small giggle escaped her, but her eyes remained closed.

“Zenobia!”

His voice was mock-stern.

“Open your eyes! I command it!”

Her eyes flew open, and she sat up.

“I will not be commanded, Hawk!”

And then her gray eyes widened, and she gasped. “Ohh!”

Mischievously he grinned down at her.

“Am I not pleasing to your eye, my flower?”

He posed himself, parodying the athletes in the arena.

She was unable to take her eyes from his body.

He was an inch or two taller than she was, and he was beautifully formed.

His legs were long, the calves and thighs firm and shapely.

He had a narrow waist that fanned upward into a broad chest and wide shoulders.

His arms were long and muscled and he had slender hands and long fingers.

His body was tanned and smooth, and looking at it now, she was again overcome by the desire to caress him as he had caressed her two weeks earlier.

She had carefully kept her eyes averted from his sex, but now she let her eyes slide downward, color flooding her cheeks at her daring.

To her surprise, the beast she had been half fearful of was nothing more than a gentle creature nestling small and soft upon its dark, furred bed.

Again he sensed her thoughts.

“It only grows large when I desire you.”

“You said you wanted me!”

she accused.

“I do want you, my flower, but wanting and desiring are two different things.

The wanting is in my head and my heart.

The desire comes from my body.”

He stretched out next to her on the bed.

“There has been no time for desire this day.”

Reaching out, he drew her to him.

“No time until now, Zenobia,”

and then his mouth was covering hers, tasting and possessing until with a great shudder she gave herself up to his building passion.

She had never expected a man’s mouth to be so tender.

It gently commanded her, and she obeyed, parting her lips to receive his velvety tongue, which stroked hers until suddenly she felt a fire beginning to build deep within her.

Pulling her head away from his, she tried to clear the dizziness with several breaths of air, but he only laughed and captured her mouth again in a torrid embrace.

Finally satisfied that her sweet lips had received their due, his mouth scorched a path down the side of her face, his slender fingers moving ahead along her slim neck.

Pressing a hot kiss against her ear, he murmured, “Can you feel your own desire rising, my love?”

and he gently bit on her earlobe, before moving on to the soft curve of her silken throat.

Zenobia was beginning to tremble, and when her husband’s hands found her round full breasts she gasped softly with longing.

She wanted his touch! She craved it, for then perhaps the terrible ache that was filling her entire being would dissolve and go away.

Reverently he fondled each tender globe, and then without warning his head dipped down to capture within his warm mouth a quivering and already taut nipple.

Hungrily he drew on her virgin breast, and she cried out, surprised not only by his action but the corresponding tightness in the hidden place between her legs.

He raised his head, and his voice soothed her.

“Don’t be afraid, my flower.

Is it not sweet?”

Her answer was to draw his head back down to her breasts, where he resumed his pleasing dalliance; but soon he sought to explore further.

One arm encircled her waist, while his other hand brushed across her belly, which fluttered wildly beneath his touch.

His head dipped and his tongue teased her navel, causing her to writhe beneath him.

The hand moved lower yet, to her smoothly plucked Venus mound, and now he could feel her beginning to resist him.

She tensed beneath his fingers, and he could hear the nervousness in her voice.

“Please, Hawk! Please, no!”

“Why are you suddenly afraid of me?”

He sought to touch her again, but she caught defensively at his hand.

“Please!”

It suddenly occurred to him that perhaps she did not know the way between a man and a woman.

“Did Tamar tell you how it should be between us, between a husband and his wife?”

he asked her.

“No,”

came the reply, “but I know it is the same as with the animals.

The male mounts the female; is that not correct?”

“People are not animals, Zenobia.

Animals feel need and they satisfy that need without any thought.

A man with a woman is a different thing, my flower.”

He firmly moved her hand away, and gently caressed her.

“I have always believed that the gods created woman to be worshiped by her lover.

When I touch you with love I worship at the shrine of your perfection.

You must not be afraid of me, or of my touch.”

“I have never been touched there before,”

she said low, trembling beneath his fingers.

In answer he kissed her again, murmuring against her mouth, “Don’t be afraid, my darling.

Don’t be afraid,”

and she felt him very carefully exploring her more intimately.

A strange languor was spreading over her, leaving her limbs weak and helpless.

He was her husband, and yet should he be touching her like that? His finger gently penetrated her body, and she cried out, struggling to escape him, but the prince quickly shifted her so she lay completely beneath him.

Atop her, he whispered soft love words into her ear.

“No, Zenobia, no, my darling.

Don’t be afraid.

Don’t fight me, my flower.”

She could feel every inch of his very masculine body.

His smooth chest pressed against her full breasts; his flat belly pushed against her gently rounded one; his thighs met hers with a heat that brought a moan to her lips.

All this time her hands had never sought to touch him, but now she could no longer control the wild desire that he was awakening in her.

When he buried his face in her soft throat, his kisses seemingly endless, her arms wound about his neck and then, palms flat, she caressed the line of his back, ending as she cupped his hard buttocks in a gentle grasp.

“Oh, Hawk,”

she whispered, “your skin is so soft for a man.”

“What do you know of men, Zenobia?”

was the reply.

His voice was strangely harsh, his lips burning against the tender flesh of her throat.

“I know nothing but what you would teach me, my husband,”

came the soft reply, and her hands moved back up again to clasp about his neck.

“I would teach you to be a woman, my flower.

Are you brave enough?”

he demanded, his dark eyes burning into hers.

She trembled against him, but her gaze was unwavering as she said, “Yes, my Hawk, yes, I am brave enough now.”

His mouth covered hers in a sweet kiss, and she felt him slide his hands beneath her to raise her hips up just a little.

Her blood was racing wildly through her veins and she couldn’t control her trembling.

Now, suddenly, she felt something hard probing insistently between her shaking thighs.

“Hawk! Oh, my lord, I want to be a woman, but I am afraid again!”

She squirmed away from him, and huddled in a corner of the bed.

The prince groaned with frustration.

He had never wanted any woman so desperately in his life.

He was tempted to force her beneath him, and take what he wanted of her.

She would forgive him afterward; but when he lifted his head up she was staring with large, terrified eyes at his manhood.

“You cannot!”

she cried.

“You will tear me asunder!”

For a moment he enjoyed the flattery of her innocence.

“You will birth our children there, my darling,”

he explained patiently.

“If a whole baby can fit, then I can.”

Wordlessly she shook her head in the negative, but he drew her firmly back into his arms, kissing her tenderly, gently stroking her until the firestorm began to build within her again.

She felt so strange, as she had never felt before.

Her body was honeyed fire that leapt and flowed under his orchestration; the pleasure-pain building until she believed she could bear it no longer.

She was vaguely aware that he was once more covering her burning flesh with his own, but suddenly it didn’t matter.

She wanted it! She wanted him!

He felt her body relax beneath him, and in that instant his shaft entered the portals of her femininity, gently easing into her incredibly tight sheath.

Her virginity was tightly lodged, and he stopped a moment, kissing her closed eyelids, tenderly brushing back a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

She whimpered, a half-passionate, half-fearful sound, and he could feel her heart pounding beneath his chest.

Zenobia felt as if he was tearing her apart.

His manhood filled her, gorged her, and the pain was fierce.

She tried to lie still, keeping her eyes tightly shut so he might not know and have his pleasure spoiled.

When he stopped momentarily, lying atop her, attempting to soothe her, she felt a slight relief; but then he drew back and plunged swiftly through her maiden barrier.

She shrieked with the hurt, and fought to escape him, but he was firmly in control, pushing deeper into her resisting sweetness.

“No! No!”

she sobbed, the tears beginning to come, and then suddenly she became aware that his manhood, which just moments ago had seemed like a red-hot poker, was suddenly the source of the most marvelous sweetness; yet the ache was increasing.

She no longer seemed able to fight him off.

His shaft moved back and forth within her, and the world about her seemed to pulse and spin with a myriad of sensations.

Zenobia had never imagined that anything could be as magnificent as this joining of bodies.

She was as lost within him as he was in her.

The pleasure built higher until the ache dissolved without warning, and she was falling, falling into a warm and welcoming blackness.

She clung to him, lost within her private world, and the prince was ravished by her response to his passion.

Tenderly he gathered her into his arms, so that when once more she became herself, she would feel cherished—for indeed she was.

Pressing soft little kisses upon her face, he murmured reassuringly to her, “I love you, my darling! My adorable wife, I love you so!”

He said the words over and over until she finally opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Oh, my Hawk, I love you too! I want to please you, but will it always hurt like that?”

“Never again,”

he promised her.

“It was only because you were a virgin, Zenobia.

I cannot understand Tamar not telling you.”

“Tamar has had only sons,”

Zenobia replied, “and perhaps she did not wish to frighten me.”

“Then why not your Bab?”

“It was not Bab’s place to tell me those things,”

she said primly.

Odenathus sighed with exasperation.

“Then I suppose it must be my place to school you, my flower.”

“Yes, my lord,”

came the demure reply.

He looked sharply at her, then laughed, for her eyes were mischievous.

“Do you laugh at me, my wife?”

he demanded in a teasingly threatening tone.

“Yes, my lord.”

Her look was melting.

He could feel his desire rising once more, and wondered if he dare take her again.

It had been a hard breach of her maidenhead, and he had not a doubt that she was sore.

“I want you again, my Hawk.”

She punctuated her remark by turning her head to gently bite at his forearm.

A shiver ran through him as he realized that his bride was a passionate woman.

Reaching out, he rubbed her nipple until it stood tall, a tough little soldier upon the rise of her delicious flesh.

She pulled his head down, kissing his mouth, whispering against his lips, “Take me now, my darling! I burn!”

Mounting her, he slipped into her sweet sheath, feeling her wince slightly.

Slowly he moved within her, pushing deep, then pulling himself completely out, only to plunge once again into her burning body.

He felt her nails rake his back, and heard her cry, “No! I want the sweetness, my Hawk! Do not deny me the sweetness!”

He laughed as he sat straddling her.

“Do not be in a hurry, my flower.

There is much pleasure to be gained by taking time to enjoy each other,”

and then he commenced a tantalizingly slow movement that would drive her to the brink of madness.

Zenobia found herself helpless before the delicious sensations that began to assail her.

There had been pain the first time, but then it had been good, and she had liked it.

Now, though here had been a moment’s discomfort when he had begun again, it was different, yet still good.

She didn’t believe it could be any better, but each moment brought new delights until she was spinning away, lost in time and not caring.

All she could think was that she had been a fool to fear him.

Above her the prince groaned with his own pleasure, falling across her breasts, but Zenobia was totally unaware.

Both fell into a deep sleep, but with the resilience of a healthy young animal Zenobia awoke after a few hours.

It was the middle of the night, black and so very still.

The lamps still burned, for neither she nor the prince had thought to snuff them out.

A slight wind came through the portico and the lamps flickered, casting odd, red-gold shadows against the wall.

She lay on her back, quietly observing the room in which she had become a woman.

It was, she realized, a woman’s room; it was her room, the room in which she would share tender, sweet intimacies with Hawk; the room in which she would birth her children; the room in which as an old woman, she would probably breathe her last.

It was a simple place, she thought as her eyes slowly swept the chamber; but then he had said that it had not been decorated because he thought she might enjoy planning the decor of their home.

Here was something new and challenging.

“Are you awake?”

His voice tore at the stillness.

“Yes.”

“What are you pondering, my flower?”

An honest reply sprang to her lips only to be swallowed back.

He would hardly think it complimentary that on their wedding night she was thinking of how to decorate their home.

“I was thinking of you, Hawk,” she said.

“What were you thinking?”

“That I love you,”

she replied.

He raised himself up on his elbow, and looked down into her face, smiling.

“We will be friends as well as lovers, as well as husband and wife.

Oh, Zenobia, I am so glad that I have you! I have been so alone since my father died.

Neither my mother nor Deliciae can be a friend to me, for they do not understand my feelings for Palmyra; but you understand, my flower, don’t you? This is a great city, and we shall make it greater so that our son will be an even greater lord than his father and grandfather!”

“How can we be great as long as the Romans rule us?”

she demanded.

“Soon Antonius Porcius will retire,”

he explained to her, “and he has told me that the emperor will send no one to take his place.

The Romans trust us, Zenobia.

I will shortly rule the city in my own right as the princes of Palmyra did before me.”

“How can you rule in your own right when the Romans still garrison troops within our city?”

Zenobia demanded.

“My wedding gift from the emperor is command of those troops, my beautiful wife!”

She sat up, startled.

“You are to command Roman troops?”

“I am.

Now what do you think, my flower?”

“I wonder why, after years of occupation, the Romans suddenly decided to let you rule without a Roman governor.

I wonder why you have been put in charge of their troops.”

“Because the Romans know that they can trust me, Zenobia.”

“And once you have total control will you overthrow them?”

Her gray eyes shone with pride.

“No, Zenobia.

I need Rome’s soldiers for Palmyra.

The world is no longer what it once was.

We are surrounded by dangers not even dreamed of in my grandfather’s time.

I need an army to protect this city.”

“Why Romans?!”

“Rome is the central power in the world.

If I use her troops then I do not have to force my own people into the military service.

Rome’s troops cost me nothing.

The tribute we pay to the empire comes from the caravans; and not from my people.”

“I cannot believe that you have bent your neck to their yoke,”

she cried.

“Tell me you have been but jesting with me, my Hawk.”

“Zenobia, you are yet a child, and do not understand these matters,”

he said gently.

“When you see how the government is run, the monies involved, then you will understand why it is necessary for us to cooperate with Rome.

Come now, my flower, why are we discussing such weighty matters in the midst of our wedding night.”

He leaned over and kissed her mouth.

She pulled back, her gray eyes serious.

“You once promised to share your responsibilities with me, Hawk.

Have you now changed your mind?”

“I do not make promises I do not intend to keep, my flower.

There is, however, a time for everything, and this is not the time to be discussing my government.”

“When is the right time?”

she demanded angrily.

“Must I make an appointment with you, as do your ministers? Shall I tell your secretary in the morning that the Princess of Palmyra wishes an appointment with the Prince of Palmyra so she may discuss the government with him?”

“By the gods!”

he exclaimed.

“We are having our first fight, Zenobia!”

He reached out a hand, and stroked her shoulder.

How beautiful she was with her midnight-black hair swirling about her shoulders.

“You must take the good with the bad,”

she muttered, not easily placated, and shocked by the revelation that she was quarreling with him.

“I will share everything with you, my darling,”

he promised, “but we are just married; this is our honeymoon; and I do not want to speak of politics or finances with you at this moment.

What bride would choose these things over love in her marriage bed?”

Her resistance began to melt, and he reached out and drew her into his arms.

“Oh, Hawk,”

she murmured.

“I have so much to learn that I am impatient.”

“It is as I have said, my flower.

You are yet a child in many ways, but I will teach you.”

He nibbled at the corners of her mouth, and delicious little tingles of excitement ran through her.

The prince smiled down at her, and then his lips took full possession of hers.

There was no gentleness this time, only a fierce and burning demand that Zenobia found impossible not to answer.

She returned his kisses passionately until her mouth was bruised and aching, but to his surprise she did not yield herself entirely.

His hands moved to caress her marvelous breasts; his lips moved from her lips downward along a trail of soft, perfumed flesh that quivered beneath his touch.

She knew what to expect this time, or at least she thought she did, but the warm and softly breathing mouth that murmured love words into her ear, the mouth that moved teasingly along the straining muscle on the side of her neck to bury itself in the tender hollow of her shoulder shook her to the quick.

He stayed but a moment in that sweet nook only to move onward to cover the swelling tops of her breasts with quick kisses before beginning his assault upon her nipples, which stood at attention eagerly awaiting him.

“Zenobia,”

he murmured, then his tongue began a slow, teasingly sweet encirclement of a nipple.

Round and round it moved, sending waves of heat through her veins until she wanted to scream, for the pleasure left her weak and breathless.

It occurred to her suddenly that he was diverting her from the discussion she had been trying to conduct with him.

Her first reaction to this thought was outrage that he held her opinion so lightly; but then, as his mouth closed over a nipple and he began to suckle upon her sensitive breast, all coherent thought vanished.

She gave herself up to the delights of his lovemaking.

“Oh, my Hawk,”

she whispered, afraid to break the lovely spell that seemed to surround them, “I love you!”

Slowly he raised his head so he might look upon her beautiful face, and for a moment Zenobia thought she would drown in the dark, dark liquid pool of his eyes.

His voice had an intensity that gave her the eerie feeling that he had divined her very thoughts.

“And I love you, my exquisite bride.

I will share all with you, my love.

We have an eternity of sharing before us.”