The Prince's Harem Box Set: The Prince's Harem Books 1-5 Page 5

  Suddenly, he gave a short, sharp thrust of his hips. His cock slid inside, and a sharp pain tore through me.

  I squealed, clenching around him.

  The Prince withdrew and pushed up, and I felt his fingers slide through my folds and this time press inside me. He lifted his hand and examined his fingers, smiled, then turned them to show me them, streaked with blood.

  I swallowed hard. “Does that please you?”

  In answer, he licked each finger. I stared, shocked, and he laughed, then leaned over me again to push his tongue into my mouth. I tasted iron, and moaned.

  He repositioned himself, guided his cock to my entrance, and kissed me again. “It won’t hurt so much this time,” he whispered. Then he pushed forward.

  This time there was no sharp pain, just a sensation of being stretched and filled. I gasped, and he stopped and waited for me to adjust, pulled back, and pushed forward again. He did this a few times, going deeper each time.

  My eyes grew wider and wider—how deep inside me could he go? After the third or fourth thrust, he pushed forward hard, and I groaned and leaned back into the pillows as he stretched me wide, completely filling me to the brim. He was so wide at the root—I could feel myself expanding to accommodate him. I couldn’t believe the large head that had been in my mouth was now buried deep inside me.

  “There,” he said. “That is all of me, little bird. I fit!” He gave a wicked smile.

  I breathed quickly, astounded at the sensation of being so plundered. My muscles tightened of their own accord, clenching around him. To my delight, he groaned.

  “You are so tight!” He slid almost out of me, then pushed forward again, burying deep. “Aaahhh.” He closed his eyes.

  I reached up and kissed him, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, and he growled and did it back, claiming my mouth so thoroughly I had trouble catching my breath.

  His hips began to thrust rhythmically, and I became used to the slide of him inside me, the cycle of stretch, fill, withdraw, relax that was so pleasurable.

  I couldn’t believe this magnificent man was making me his. I placed my hands on his chest and stroked up over his shoulders, then slipped my hands into his hair and pulled his head down to kiss him. I had this irresistible urge to drive him to the edge, to watch him come apart and know I was the cause of his pleasure.

  Locking my ankles behind his back, I met each of his thrusts with one of my own. The Prince lifted his head to look at me, delight in his eyes. Suddenly, before I could prepare myself, he grasped me around the waist and hips and twisted on the bed, flipping over onto his back so I lay on top. He was still buried within me, and as I pushed myself up, I felt his cock deep inside, not at all unpleasant.

  “Oh,” I said, shocked by the new position.

  He raised his hands above his head, stretching lazily. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself. I thought you might like it this way too.” He met my gaze, amused, waiting for me to discover what to do.

  Did he want me to move? Was I supposed to do the thrusting? He had a mischievous look in his eyes—he wasn’t going to tell me.

  I rocked my hips experimentally, and felt him slide out before I pushed back down. Mm. That felt nice. I was a little sore, but it didn’t hurt. I did it again, farther this time, and he blew out a breath and pushed up, burying himself deep.

  Liking the new position, I moved more, sliding him in and out of me, and he mumbled his approval, closing his eyes. Leaning forward the same way he had done with me, I braced my arms on either side of him and bent to kiss him as I thrust.

  He opened his mouth to me, and I kissed him hard, just the way he had, claiming his mouth, hungry and demanding. He groaned, but didn’t stop me, so I did it again, our kisses hot and wet.

  I could feel an orgasm building, and I pushed myself upright again. Remembering what Farah had done when Malik had pleasured her with his mouth, I raised my hands to my breasts and plucked my nipples as I rocked.

  The Prince’s eyes widened.

  I closed mine and concentrated on the sensations spreading through me. I was beginning to recognize the approach of a climax, the subtle tensing of the muscles deep inside, the blissful promise of ecstasy. A low moan escaped my lips that I was only half aware of.

  And then his hands were on me again, his arms tight around my waist, and I felt myself flipped once more onto my back. The Prince grasped my hands in his own and pinned them above my head. I flexed my fingers in his, wondering why he’d stopped me, but I had no time to ask because he clamped his mouth on mine and thrust his tongue into my mouth.

  He began to move inside me, long, hard thrusts, and I couldn’t do anything but let him, pinned and held there as he plunged into my body and my mouth, taking what he wanted from me.

  Delight spread through me—he was losing control. How could I make him lose it completely? I squeezed my internal muscles around him, and moaned against his lips, wanting to drive him to the edge. He responded with a feral grunt, and his hips pumped harder. The hair on his chest grazed against my sensitive nipples, and with each thrust he ground against my swollen clit, teasing it until it ached and throbbed.

  I was so close…so close… But before I could reach my orgasm, the Prince stiffened, his whole body tightening. I opened my eyes to watch him, staring up in wonder as his face creased with pleasure. He cried out, and I felt the rhythmic jerk of his hips as he released his silky fluid inside me.

  I watched his expression, adoring every moment of his climax, and especially loving that I had taken him there. Me. I had pleasured my husband. I was filled with a contentment I had never expected to feel with the man I had thought would make my life a misery.

  How wrong I had been!

  The Prince’s eyes fluttered open to look down into mine. Something flickered on his expression, surprise, maybe, with a hint of exasperation.

  He moved his hips and gave a long, slow thrust, grinding against my clit, and I moaned, aching for fulfilment.

  Sighing, he continued to thrust, bending his head to capture my nipple in his mouth, and it only took a couple of thrusts and a few hard sucks before my orgasm bloomed.

  I clenched around him. “Tash!” His name escaped my lips, and he lifted his head to kiss me as if he wanted to capture the pleasure spreading through me. I sighed as he plunged his tongue into my mouth, and I let the delicious pulses crash over me until, like the waves upon the shore, they died to a gentle wash of bliss.

  The Prince lifted his head. His eyes met mine, dark and tender, and he kissed my nose.

  “There,” he said.

  Withdrawing, he moved off me to one side. I suppressed a loud sigh, disappointed to lose the feel of his body on top of me and inside me.

  Lowering a hand between my legs, I felt dampness on my thighs, some of his fluid that had overflowed.

  “Here.” He reached for a cloth and wiped it over my inner thighs, then to my surprise he pushed my knees toward my chest and gestured for me to hold them there. I wrapped my arms around them, looking up at him, puzzled.

  “It keeps the seed inside for a while.” He moved closer, propping his head on a hand again, and resting his other hand on my ribs. “We might have made a baby tonight. Would you like that?”

  Wonder spread through me. “A child?”

  “Perhaps. Or maybe we’ll have to practice a bit more.” He winked at me, then leaned forward and kissed my nose again. “I want to apologize, little bird.”

  “For what?”

  “For taking pleasure from you so quickly.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  His lips quirked up. “I came before you. I thought you might have noticed.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  He chuckled. “Nothing, I suppose, but it is good manners for a man to please his woman first before he obtains pleasure for himself.”

  “You had already given me two orgasms,” I pointed out, a little shyly.

  “True.” He smiled. “Even so. I should ha
ve waited but…” He tipped his head from side to side.

  “You lost control?” I murmured.

  He raised an eyebrow and drew a finger up between my breasts. “You like that?”

  “I do. I am glad I pleased you.”

  He laughed out loud at that. “Yes, you pleased me, Alesha. Very much.”

  “I am relieved.”

  “You do not think you will mind being married to me?”

  I looked into his eyes and shook my head. “I love you.”

  A puzzled frown flickered on his brow.

  I nibbled my lip. “That displeases you?”

  He shook his head. “No. I am touched you wish to tell me so soon.” He kissed my nose again. “I love you too, little bird.” He looked slightly surprised at the admission.

  I caught my breath, emotion bringing tears to my eyes. He leaned forward and kissed me, a long, slow, sweet kiss that sent my heart racing nevertheless.

  When he eventually pulled back, I sighed. “Should I return to the harem now?”

  “Do you want to?”

  “No.”

  “It is our wedding night,” he pointed out.

  “You do not mind if I stay?”

  He yawned, turned me onto my side facing away from him, and pulled me back against his chest. “Not tonight.”

  “I am glad you are my husband,” I whispered.

  He kissed my ear. “I have other wives,” he reminded me. “And concubines. You must learn to share me.”

  “Yes, Tash.”

  “And I will learn to share you. I will enjoy watching others give you pleasure.”

  I swallowed and nestled back in his arms as he traced light fingers over my hip and thigh. I still felt a bit nervous about having sex with other people, although after what had happened that night, I suspected it would be fun.

  “I will enjoy it too,” I admitted. “But you will be the only one to do what we did tonight?”

  “Yes, little bird. No other man will ever be allowed to have you like that.” He smacked my bottom, making me jump. “Now go to sleep. It is long past midnight, and I am tired.”

  “Yes, Tash.”

  I curled up in his arms. I would have to share him with others. But tonight he was my husband and mine alone.

  I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

  The Unruly Princess

  The Prince’s Harem: Book 2

  by Carly Roberts

  Chapter One

  There was a storm coming.

  I sat by the window, propped up by several turquoise cushions, looking out across the palace gardens. It was late, just past midnight, and a myriad of stars peppered the night sky.

  To the east, however, the stars were occluded, and I knew the sand was rising, spinning in dust demons that danced in the desert, ready to advance on the oasis city.

  I leaned my head on the shutter and sighed. The despondency I had been feeling for several days lay heavy on me tonight. Pulling my legs up, I wrapped my arms around my knees and curled in the corner.

  Many of the women in the harem had already taken to bed. A group of important dignitaries had arrived that morning from India, and we had been informed that the Prince would not require our services that night.

  Still, some of us waited just in case he might decide to call for a companion. It was a rare night that he didn’t take at least one of us to his bed, and I would never want to be sleeping if he sent a slave to see if any of us was awake.

  I rolled my head on the wall and glanced across the room, catching the eye of two concubines who looked away quickly. They had been talking about me.

  I frowned, my stomach churning. I had sensed a strange atmosphere in the harem all day, and had repeatedly caught people giving me odd looks. What had happened? What were they talking about?

  My heart sank even more when I saw that Alesha was still awake. She looked young and fresh, and she sat talking with sparkling eyes and animated gestures, excited that the time had come when he might call for her.

  I looked back out of the window. She had only been in the harem two months, but we had formed a relationship that swung from friendship to rivalry and back on a daily basis. We were jealous of each other’s closeness to the Prince, but at the same time recognized that he wanted a peaceful and companionable harem.

  While on the surface we presented a united front—and I genuinely liked her and did not wish her ill—we had taken to playing pranks on each other with the aim of trying to advance our position in the Prince’s affections. I knew that our rivalry irritated him, but I could not seem to stop myself.

  I thought of what I had done a couple of days ago and swallowed down a lump that guilt formed in my throat. I was not proud of what I had done.

  I wanted to stop doing these things, but I could not contain the emerald monster inside me that roared with anger every time he touched Alesha instead of me.

  I was also nervous because I knew she felt the same, and she would no doubt return my prank with a bigger one of her own. The worst thing was that for her, it appeared to be working. Though the Prince called us both to his chamber on a regular basis, quite often together, it was Alesha he took tenderly while he left me to his slaves.

  If he did send someone to fetch him a woman, they would no doubt take Alesha. I might as well go to bed.

  The wind swept across the garden and through the shutter, covering me in a fine layer of glittering sand that carried with it the scents of cinnamon, frankincense, and myrrh. I coughed and rose to fasten the shutters. None of us would get much sleep tonight if the storm hit.

  I turned to step down from the dais and paused at the sound of raised voices outside in the corridor. Alesha had been lying on a sofa but pushed herself up, and the other ten or so women in the room rose too.

  Footsteps thundered on the tiles. My heart pounded and my mouth went dry. It didn’t sound like a single slave sent to bring a woman to the Prince for midnight loving. It sounded like—

  The doors were wrenched open and flung against the walls with an almighty crash. A scatter of servants and eunuchs stood outside, clearly distressed as someone strode into the room and paused a few feet in. It was the Prince.

  All the women gasped as one. The harem was a place for women only, and the Prince had never set foot inside. Immediately, every single one of his wives and concubines fell to their knees, Alesha included.

  I alone remained standing, my feet rooted to the floor, captivated by the sight of the Prince.

  He wore a simple tunic of light blue silk embroidered with gold thread, stitched with a thousand glittering gems, and a pair of loose dark blue trousers underneath. He must have recently had a bath because he’d clipped his beard and moustache short, and his hair curled damply at his temples, although it stuck up on top as if he had raked his hands through it.

  The man was so young and handsome, it made me ache inside, both in my heart and lower down, a yearning deep in my belly that longed to be satisfied. But immediately I knew tonight would not be a night for loving.

  He stood with hands on his hips, eyes blazing, his lips pressed together in a thin line. The muscles at the corners of his jaw were bunched tight, and as he scanned the room, I was surprised that his heated gaze didn’t set the women aflame. He was furious. What had happened to make him so?

  He looked from one side of the room to the other, not seeing me where I stood on the dais, almost tucked behind a pillar.

  Obviously not finding who he was looking for, he walked forward. Nervous voices whispered across the room.

  “Quiet!” he yelled, and the voices hushed.

  He stood in the middle of the kneeling women and glowered as he scanned their faces. “Where is Farah?”

  My breath left my body in a rush, and my knees turned to jelly. Unable to speak, to do anything in fact, I watched his gaze scan the room again—and then he saw me.

  He marched across the carpet. As he approached, I hastily lowered my gaze and sank to my knees.

  Cl
early, though, that wasn’t what he wanted.

  “Get up,” he snapped.

  I pushed myself back up, stood on the hem of my trousers, and stumbled.

  He reached out a hand, and I thought he was going to steady me, but instead his hand closed around my wrist, and he yanked it toward him so I fell against his chest.

  I looked up into his blazing eyes. I couldn’t breathe. I had never seen him this angry before. Occasionally he grew irritable, usually when someone didn’t do as they were told or something displeased him, but he rarely lost his temper.

  Tonight, though, I could feel the storm building within him the same way it was outside the palace, as the rising wind hammered its fists on the roofs and rattled the doors on their hinges.

  I waited for him to say something. He breathed in and out a few times, his chest heaving as if he was bursting to yell at me, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned and, still holding my wrist, walked away.

  I lurched after him, my cheeks flushing as all the women in the room watched us pass. I couldn’t look at Alesha, but I felt her gaze on me, pity mixing—I was sure—with more than a little glee that the Prince was angry with me.

  We reached the doors, and to my surprise he marched straight through them and down the corridor, walking so fast I had to run to keep up with him.

  I couldn’t believe he’d done this—I was in a state of undress, ready for bed, with only a short tunic over my trousers and no veil, my hair tumbling loose around my shoulders,

  If any of the visiting dignitaries were to see me, it would be a scandal, but to my relief we did not bump into anyone in the corridors. The city slept, and I knew the storm would be gusting through empty streets and scattering sand across deserted squares and abandoned markets.

  We passed only eunuchs standing quietly to attention, guarding the doors. I felt their eyes on me as we passed, most of them full of pity. They liked me, and all of them would be as shocked as I was at the Prince’s sudden display of anger. None would ever dream of coming to my aid, though.