Action Adventure / The Demon Lover Chapter 17
Chapter 17
There was not a lot of time to be gentle. Karim pushed her through the door and steered her into the center of the room.
Majed was busy laying items from his bags and Michelle‘s out neatly on one side of the bed. He looked up, green eyes solemn as they took in Angel’s frightened posture and Karim’s resolute one. A word from Karim sent him hurrying for the door.
Karim added to him in Arabic, “Don’t go too far, I’ll need some help with this.”
Majed nodded and was gone.
Karim turned toward Angel, but she’d backed away, toward the dresser.
“Look, we don’t have much time.” He walked toward her. “Angel, take down your hair for me.”
She stared at him stunned for a few seconds. “W-what?”
He could tell from her expression, this was going to be bad… He’d hoped for at least another day or two to prepare, but time had run out.
He tossed the gun down onto the bed and moved in close to her. She tried to step back again, but the dresser blocked her retreat. She met his gaze and he saw that her eyes were impossibly blue now—and luminous—as if she were about to cry. Karim felt a pain low-down like a fist to his stomach, but stayed on task. He brought a hand up, unable to stop himself from tracing the delicate heart shape of her chin and jaw first before he pulled around to the back of her head and gently undid the clip there. Golden hair came tumbling down and Karim sucked in his breath, finding no way to keep from fanning his hands through the thick tresses. The strands glimmered like corn silk against the tan of his skin. This was not a color that came from a bottle. Ismaili would pick up on that right away…
He pushed the stray tendrils back from her face and she suddenly put a hand up to his chest—not pushing, but more like a gentle plea, which was far more disarming. Her touch on his bare skin felt as light as butterfly wings.
“You… wouldn’t hurt me.” If she’d asked this as a question, it might have been easier to take, but as it was, for Karim, the fist this time was more like a sharp kick.
He stepped back from her, blowing out in frustration and running a hand through his own hair before turning toward the bed and picking up the two dresses Majed had laid out.
Red. Decidedly the red one… He put the black one down and when he turned back, he surveyed her with a more critical eye. She still hadn’t cried yet, not all morning, even though Karim had seen that—like now—she really wanted to. Probably needed to. This impressed him. She was tougher than she looked. He’d expected her to stay in the room with the gun, and had not looked forward to going in to fetch her. He’d expected tears and histrionics. But again, she’d taken him by surprise. She’d stood up to the test like a real trooper, and he had been tough on her. But right now, she seemed so… innocent. Nothing fake here, no artifice. Gentle eyes like a cloudless sky, the baby’s breath voice… So sweet and unassuming. Like her name—Angel.
Now he had to figure out what to do about it. Ismaili—no fool—would expect a more seasoned player. So how to turn sweet Angel here into something more worldly…
He remembered the other woman in the pictures with Angel. She looked like her, but more hard around the edges. Angel was prettier, but the other one had the look he needed right now.
“I think we’re going to need to roll your hair,” he said, then turned and called through the door. “Majed?”
Lots of makeup too—heavy on the eyeliner…
Majed appeared promptly and looked a bit flustered at Karim’s request for hot rollers. “You’ve got sisters, right? Find out if someone can bring us some rollers or a curling iron. Be quick too, we’re on deadline here… We‘re going to need some makeup and eyeliner. And hurry the hell up please…”
Now Karim approached Angel again, and her eyes widened more in surprise than fear as he held the red dress up to her shoulders.
“Its perfect,” he pronounced.
She finally found her voice, but it was barely above a whisper as she stammered, “W-what… are you doing?”
“We’re going to play a little dress up, Angel.”
He wished he’d kept the note of suggestive sarcasm out of his voice, because her eyes became very round again. She clutched behind her for the comforting support of the dresser.
The next line came off even worse.
“Go ahead and take that dress off—”
“What? No!” She choked out.
“Don’t make me take it off for you… I will do that,” he said in a tone he used when he expected to be obeyed.
“Why?”
“Because I said to take the damned thing off! I want you to put on the red one—”
“No.”
“Damn it, Angel, we don’t have time—” He tossed the red dress back onto the bed behind him, then spun toward her again, thinking to just rip the damned little prim buttons to her throat down the front and get it over with, but once again, the gentle defense of her eyes—not willing to believe he’d really do such a thing—halted him in his tracks. She’d certainly taken him seriously enough on the plane. Was he losing his touch? Then he realized—she had instinct. A top notch survivor skill… She was reading him like Abed, and really nobody else had before.
He was going to have to do more explaining than he‘d wanted. “Angel, look,” he sighed. “I know this is tough on you. I know you’re afraid—and while a little fear is healthy under the circumstances, cooperation would be so much better.”
Her hands didn’t abandoned the dresser. “Well,” she said slowly—and a little too soft. Karim had to strain to hear and he noticed she‘d done the little diphthong glide thing, and put at least two syllables in ‘well’. “Maybe if you’d just tell me—what am I supposed to be cooperating with?” The lilting southern drawl enveloped him like a summer breeze. His first thought—aside from wanting to hear that honey voice in his ear while he fucked her, was: Ismaili’s going to have her for lunch...
But then Karim realized, there was underlying demand in her tone that crept up on him only after-the-fact. Now she was staring back into his eyes expectantly.
“Okay,” he said, “Okay. Fair enough. You have questions. I can’t blame you for that. Go ahead and ask away but I have to tell you—for your own protection—answers are going to come mainly on a need to know basis.”
Once again, she did the unexpected, abandoning the dresser to actually take a step toward him. And once again, her voice belied this boldness—still hesitant, barely above a silken whisper. “You… keep calling me by my real name. You keep calling me Angel—”
“Yes, well, we’ve all been catching some heat from you otherwise. Make up your mind—which is it you prefer?”
“You know who I am… I know you do. I don’t know why you’re still holding me here, since I’m not this Jennifer Wiley you wanted.”
“You’re right. I do know who you are. We found your passport, your wallet… I’ll make sure you get it back.”
“When I go home?”
“Yes, when you go home.”
“And when might that be?”
“A while probably.”
She continued to press, but her voice was still barely audible, still candy sweet. “Who are you? The others said you weren’t bad. That you weren’t… what you seem—”
“I think they were lying to you about the bad… As you’ve already seen, my heart is pretty much as black as the pit.”
This time her voice had just a trace of skepticism, “You’re using words, but you’re not really saying anything. Can’t you please just tell me, who are you?”
He eyed her coolly. “Let’s just say I’m a friend.”
“Who is MKH?”
“Sorry?” Karim stiffened, but realized it to be a valid inquiry. Stupid to keep these things from Zelda just because they reminded him of home… “Yes, well… We get a lot of things donated…” He believed that was what Abed said he had told her. Karim told Ian one time when he’d asked about the hankie that he’d stolen some stuff. Being a former thief himself, the English had swallowed it.
She frowned like she wasn‘t fully convinced, but moved on. “The others said you are American… You sound and act American—but not all the time, why?”
“Lebanese American,” he corrected.
She continued to press. “Mustafa said you came here on loan from a university in America. Nidal seemed to imply this morning that you were a citizen—”
“Nidal has a big fucking mouth, but I am surprised at Mustafa. He’s usually more proficient.”
She sighed. “Once again, you’re talking, but you’re not really saying anything. Is this part of the game you all keep referring too?”
“Yes, and I’ve already given you one of the rules… Need to know, only.”
Karim decided the conversation was done. He turned away from her and started to pick up the red dress again. Fuck… Women who talked—not just during sex… Who demanded answers… He really didn’t tolerate that part well from men either, or he’d have to think this was some kind of carry-over from his Arab male genetics.
“Wait a minute!” she said from behind him. “I want to know—please. If you’re not going to tell me who you are, then at least tell me—why can’t I go home?”
“You’re about to meet the reason you can’t go home,” Karim turned and glared at her. She retreated a step. Only one hand this time groped behind her for the dresser.
“Is it—that Ismaili fellow? Mustafa said, he is the devil…”
“Yes, he is,” Karim said flatly. Not adding that he was going to kill—in the non-literal sense—maybe, both Mustafa and Nidal for their inane babbling and slip-ups. Cornflakes and Coffee Mate, Jesus H. Christ. At least they hadn’t told her anything Ismaili didn’t already know. He’d stuck to the truth with the Colonel mostly—except for the ‘I’m here to slit your throat’ part. “He’s going to be here in less than two hours now to meet you. Now I am trying to—”
“Wait! Meet me?” Her eyes—like Abed’s earlier, got a flicker of what looked suspiciously like hope.
He stepped toward her. “Don’t go there Angel. Ismaili is not someone you can negotiate with. He wants you to be Jennifer Wiley, beauty pageant queen, prominent society girl... An American symbol. Whether you like it or not, is not up for debate. That‘s who you need to be. Fast. If Ismaili finds out you’re not his 35 million dollar hostage, your either dead, or worse. Probably worse.”
“Thirty-five million dollars!“ She squeaked, as if she couldn’t imagine that much money in the world. She brought the hand not clutching the dresser up to her chest in shock.
He surveyed her again from head to toe. The body—oh my—that amazing body… That was not going to be a problem. But it was the sweetness, the face with the eyes that didn’t lie…
At first, he thought she was more upset about the ransom amount—which really was far too low. Ismaili would raise it when he saw her.
But then her gaze flew to his face. “What’s worse?”
He almost said—having to deal with me with in this kind of mood, and with a hangover—but she seemed to be doing that admirably well so far. He decided to return to fear tactics. He grabbed her by the arm—the one with the hand still over her heart, and pulled her hard against him. She sputtered and struggled with all her might this time as Karim, leaning down to rub the night’s stubble against her soft hair, said, “You won’t get thrown to the rabble downstairs. No… You’re too exquisite for that… How about sold to the highest bidder? Have any fantasies about fucking Saudi princes or oil Sheiks?”
He tried to soften the blow of his words—maybe give her a clue of what the alternative could be—by entwining his hand gently in her hair so her head tilted back and he could kiss her like she deserved, with the utmost gentleness and finesse’. However, she was able to disentangle one hand from his grip. He realized she meant to slap him, but before he could react by locking down her arms, she managed to catch one fingernail along the line of his cheekbone. He knew it must be bleeding a little because she suddenly gaped up at him, eyes wide, body momentarily frozen.
In spite of the fear of consequences written plainly on her face, she said, “You… You are a foul-mouthed, despicable, arrogant, low-down… Ohhh! There just are no words—”
Karim couldn’t help it. He tried to hide his amusement, but a low, growling laugh came out anyway. “Oh my God Angel, you are delightful… darling, precious girl…“ Had he been annoyed before by her outbursts and unpredictability? He couldn’t remember… How less than astute of him… “How about scoundrel, son-of-a-bitch, Motherfucking insolent asshole… I don’t deny it.”
He let her go, if only to throw up his hands. What the hell was he going to do with pretty Sister Golden Hair here? Like that song he’d found so cloying when he was in that fancy military prep school in Virginia Holli had insisted on.… He’d only let his starry-eyed 17 year old roommates play it because it was by a band called “America.” He’d been more of a Zeppelin/Pink Floyd man himself. But like the song title, this woman certainly was a surprise a minute. “Angel, can’t you cuss?”
“We-ll…” Again, the two-syllables… The breathy pause in the middle. She looked thoughtful, but still bristling like a little kitten who’d finally found her claws. “Not like you, Mr. Literature Professor—”
Damn fucking stupid zebbs… Mustafa, Nidal—and Abed were really in for it. “My degree is actually in linguistics,” he said smoothly.
“Well, one would think that would make you a little more original, more creative,” she said, drawling like soft silk, but with an edge.
Touché. Score one for Goldilocks. How to get back on track? Back to the big, bad wolf routine…
“Okay, listen up sweetheart, this is how it needs to be. I can protect you, throw Ismaili off—keep Ian and his ilk off your precious little ass, but you’ve got to do your part…”
Keeping her pinned in place with his most provocative stare, he gently reached out and took her hand. She looked startled again, eyeing him with caution, but did not jerk away. He decided to sit down on the bed. Damn—she was work. She was wearing him out, and not in the way he would choose… And they hadn’t even gotten to the most important point he needed to make. He pulled the hand he was toying with—followed by the whole delectable package of her—into his lap. Of course he didn’t think to ask. Her eyes were enormous, questioning, but she stayed without struggle. Once again, what could she possibly do? At least she had the good sense to realize she was completely in his control.
He found that the dress had a sash, tied in a little bow in the back. He pulled her sideways so he could see her face, and started playing with the bow. With the other hand he gripped her knees firmly in place—just in case. It bothered him—a lot—that she felt so stiff in his arms, and that her legs were slightly shaking beneath his touch.
He said, “If you can possibly put up with me, I do have a plan…”
Peering into fathomless blue depths, he found himself, Mr. Linguistics degree, struggling for words that wouldn’t be too harsh or shocking, as he explained —still pretty explicit and bare-bones—what would be required of her.
“Oh my God!” She breathed, glaring up at him when he delivered the punch line, the Coup de gras. “You want me to act like I’m some… whore?”
“No, not just any whore… My whore.” he corrected. Instead of being rigid in his arms, now she went almost limp. He pushed the hair from her face so he could gauge her reaction better. She looked back at him, stunned. He tried to soften the blow again by gently stroking her arm, but when she shook him off, he quickly qualified, “Its just an act, a role we’ll both play when others are around. Unless—of course—you’d like to make it more—”
“Oh, you are a complete degenerate…” She pushed him away and leapt to her feet.
“Degenerate, insufferable asshole…” Karim added with a grin only Nidal could have pulled off. He noted with smug satisfaction that his efforts were not without affect. Her mouth dropped, her breath came short and rapid. She started using her teeth to worry and nibble into that luscious lower lip… He also stood up. He really wasn’t used to rejection by any woman. He couldn’t recall even once being turned down. It intrigued and annoyed him at the same time. He saw the way her eyes traveled down over his bare chest, following the narrow line of hair that disappeared beneath his navel into his jeans. The little pink blush told him what he needed to know. A part of her was resistant, just on principal—but there was another part that he felt sure was receptive to what he was about to do.
After all, she certainly couldn’t go into Ismaili looking so damned innocuous…
“Come here to me Angel,” he ordered. She threw him a real, honest-to-goodness “go to hell” look. Good Girl. She might not be able to bring herself to say it, but he was proud of her. There was definitely hope—especially if she could learn to trust her instincts.
“I thought you said you had a headache,” she murmured, almost if she was talking to herself.
Karim laughed. “Yes, I did.”
Seems to have transferred to lower down… He didn’t say that, just grabbed her again by the arm and sat down with her, this time jerking one shapely leg over his lap so that she straddled him. He reached down and pulled her knees onto the bed for more direct contact. Her hands pressed against his chest, this time with force—but not full force. Karim laughed again softly as he took advantage of her hesitancy to pull her more closely against him.
His hands started in her hair, his mouth finding her lips and gently—ever so gently—coaxing her to open to him. The delicate shudder that went through her body also coursed through his, driving him wild. He kissed her harder, explored and found her tongue—lightly sucking, coaxing a response. She seemed to have melted against him. He savored for a moment that delightful lower lip, which quivered deliciously when he drew it into his mouth.
“Mmmm, Angel baby,” he breathed in her ear, then ran his tongue along the dainty pink outer shell, nipping at the soft lobe before caressing it between his lips. Another shiver and a kitten-like moan. He liked the way her hair smelled like strawberries. Good enough to eat… Breathless himself, he moved back to her mouth. Sweet. Ahhhh, the taste of Angel… He wanted her so badly now he’d make Lord Oafkir wait on him if he had to. Make the Devil wait… He kept kissing her, pausing once to look deep into her eyes. They were glazed with passion, like hazy blue sea. A sea he was ready to dive into...
His hands went for the little pearl buttons of her dress and fumbled for a moment, ripping the last few away with his impatience. The bra was nothing at all—a flick of his fingers at her back, then his hands were on her warm flesh. His mouth went to her throat—Angel’s rapid pulse in that delectable hollow, throbbed against his exploring lips. He slid the dress down her shoulders, yanked the bra off and tossed it away. His hands found her breasts, firm, generous handfuls—the puckering smallish nipples straining against his fingers, begging for his mouth. He pushed her breasts together and buried his face between them, drinking in her scent, then lavished attention with his mouth on each one in turn. She moaned and put both hands into his hair.
Oh yes, Angel…
Karim knew he must have hit just the right balance between rough and teasingly soft because her head tilted back with another sweet sigh. The passion of her response surprised him. It was what he’d been seeking—better than he’d dared hope for. His hands strayed down to her hips and her pert, sexy butt, pressing down, grinding up against her so she feel his hardness, the need she prompted in him.
He heard her breath suck in sharply. “Oh! Oh no… please.”
At first he thought she meant please, as in—Yes, I want some of that, but she’d said, ‘no’ in there somewhere. She started to struggle, try to push away from him. He brought his hands up to firmly grip both sides of her face and stop her from turning her head away. He stared questioningly down at her. She looked back at him with big eyes that had gone slightly wary now, but her breathing still came in soft, sexy gasps. One hand she’d been bracing against his shoulder now trailed down his chest before falling to her own thigh.
He tried to kiss her again.
“Oh no… No…”
His anger was instant.
By God… No baby, this is not the way it works…
“Jesus Christ. What? What the hell is wrong with you?” He had to resist the urge to shake her. As it was, he could hardly contain his hips and their need to press into her. He wanted to be inside her.
“I don’t want…” She cast her eyes downward, a pretty blush creeping over her skin from the chest up. She choked out, “I don’t want you to touch me like that. Please.”
“Well it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” he growled, glaring down at the top of her head. All that beautiful hair cascaded over her shoulders—and those amazing tits, hiding them from his view except for one rosy, beckoning nipple, still puckered and hard with her arousal.
Karim’s every nerve ending felt on fire—especially below the waist. No, it was above his waist too. He sizzled all over. He tilted her chin up and looked into her face. Her eyes were still hazy with passion, but also frantic. He felt… Desperate. Had he thought he wanted just a taste? His need now felt all consuming. He wanted to gobble her up, suck her down to the last drop like nectar, or was it sweet poison? He remembered earlier this morning—when he worked calculatingly to rattle her tree, but now, it seemed she was turning the tables on him…
“Angel,” he breathed. He kept rocking gently upward with his hips, keeping her lulled with the steady heat of his eyes boring down into hers. In spite of her words, her hands were not pushing him away now. They rested lightly on his biceps. Her breasts, the nipples hard like little pebbles, slid against his chest with every short, rapid breath she drew. He felt almost paralyzed with need.
He brought a hand to her throat, fondling, playing in her hair before dropping to caress her breasts again with both hands. Her upper body arched toward him. Karim suppressed a groan, and instead, he murmured something like, “Ahhh, Beautiful, darling.” He wasn’t even sure what language he used.
His anger had evaporated, lost in the sea of Angel’s eyes.
But again, she broke the spell, tearing her gaze away and destroying the rhythm as she began to wriggle in an uncomfortable, awkward way. Karim wrapped both arms around her, but resisted the urge to crush her against him, sensing that gentleness—a steady hand—was what she needed now. He started back at her shoulders, lightly fondling and exploring downward.
“Ohhh…” She moaned and suddenly—actually burrowed her head against his shoulder. Karim stiffened. The vulnerability of the gesture—like a mouse cozying up to the snake about to devour it—shot through him.
“Please…” she murmured again softly.
Again—did she mean, please, keep going, or please stop? She raised her head and he searched her face. Her eyes met his and were obviously dazed—just like his had to be—with the need for sex. Karim liked things cut-and-dry, even with women. Confusion… Uncertainty… inevitably pissed him off. His eyes narrowed.
“Please…”
“Shut the fuck up, baby… Just enjoy…” His voice contained a hint of menace that caused her eyes to widen. Why did she seem so startled about his anger? What was this game of hers—a little cock-tease? No doubt, it was no more than he deserved, but Karim was unable to pursue that thought further right now.
Her hands went to his shoulders and she rose up slightly on her knees. The absence of her thighs—their insistent press, their heat, made his cock strain against his jeans in pulsing protest.
Her dress was hiked up to her waist by the grip of his arm around her hips, holding her against him. The silky slide of her panties—now she’d changed to blue—against the bare skin of his stomach intermingled his body’s insistent demand for hers with his growing anger.
His hand went for the panties. She was wide open beneath the thin nylon—and oh Jesus, hot and slippery wet… He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pushing her against the pressure of his palm.
“Yes baby, I know what you need,” He growled, about to slip some fingers inside her.
She slid over his hand, open and wet for him, but her whispered no—even while she moved against his hand, had become a litany Karim could not ignore. “No, no, no…”
“That’s not what your body is telling me, Angel.” He attempted sarcasm, but winced at the note of frustration that crept in.
“No, please stop!” she said more firmly.
Uttering a curse, Karim withdrew his hand and shoved her back down on his lap so he could look into her eyes, rather than her tits, which at this point were at eye level, and too tempting a target for his mouth.
Her eyes were wide, guileless, the tears threatening again. She was also searching his face, but with confusion. “Last night, you… stopped.”
Over-riding his anger, lust—the fist in his gut this time was like a sucker punch, taking him again by surprise and stealing all his air. He swallowed hard.
He felt completely disarmed for a moment, caught once more in the snare of her eyes, so big and blue…
Gotten by the nuts by a fucking bit of kus… The little hypocrite—or cock-tease—which was it? The irony of it was not completely lost on him. He sensed a cosmic justice even… The predator ensnared by the sweet wiles of his wide-eyed prey…
To Angel, he said coldly, “Last night was nothing—I was tired, slightly drunk… I can do a lot better, but since you don’t want to find out…”
He pretty much dumped her off his lap and stood up. Her feet hit the floor solidly but her knees buckled. With a string of curses, Karim caught her, jerking her up and holding her out from him for a moment, then seized the top portion of her dress and yanked it back in place to cover what he was obviously going to be denied. Fuck, Ismaili was never going to buy into this…
Her hands griped his forearms. He felt the bite of her nails into his flesh again. Damn, it was going to look more like she’d had her way with him—not far from the truth.
It gave him an idea.
He ignored her pleas and squirming and crushed her to him, unable to resist grinding a harsh, punishing kiss against her lips before his mouth drifted down to her vulnerable throat. He shoved the prim collar out of his way, baring the lovely curve of one shoulder again. He chose his points carefully—partially hidden by her hair, but not too discreet.
He started with his tongue and gentle nipping, then crushed down with his lips only, sucking hard, arms like a vise as he held her in place. She gave a small gasp. She managed to sputter, “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Making you look well fucked… Since your not going to let it come naturally,” he ground out, resisting the sudden overwhelming urge to just toss her on the bed or against the wall and make her understand what he could do for her.
While he surveyed with satisfaction the angry-looking purple marks on the side of her throat—and one down low, just above her nipple (when had he done that?), his hands found her amazingly tight ass and pulled her hard against his straining cock so she could be sure of what she was missing. Most women pretty much laid it at his feet when they felt his size, the throbbing hardness that promised pleasure, oh yes, beyond their wildest dreams. Karim pride himself on delivering the goods… Angel just stared back at him with enormous eyes.
Needing immediate distance from his strange, emotional reaction to her, he smiled wickedly, but felt no humor at all. Just pounding, all consuming want… “I could make you, sweet Angel,” he suggested.
Maybe that’s the way she liked it?
Her gaze grew distressed, then almost speculative—but no longer panicked. As usual, just the opposite reaction from what he expected. He sensed she was trying to ’read’ him again. She worried the lower lip a second longer, then said—her voice whispery, hesitant, but slightly husky, “You could. Remember, you told me already, you can do anything you want. You obviously have the all the power here. But I don‘t believe that you would…do that. If you’d meant to… rape me, you already would have.”
Again, the fist… At first he thought it was a challenge, and then he realized from her expression that to her—she was merely stating the facts as she saw them. He couldn’t ever remember being at loss for words like he was now. He felt like a horny, inexperienced frat boy. She was playing a game he couldn’t quite get the jest of… It seemed impossible. She didn’t even seem to enjoy or realize that she’d just handed him his ass on a bed of fucking baby’s breath. That also seemed impossible. Had he thought her a poor liar? She might be the freakin’ expert. The ball was certainly in her court now…
He stated his own facts as he saw them. “Well, I have to warn you—whatever your perspective is at this point—I can‘t guarantee being able to control myself around you.”
No, this was not over, Angel, not by miles…
He trailed a finger over her jaw line, then pressed his fingers to her lips, wanting her to taste on them her own desire for him. The scent of her arousal still played on him like a potent drug, an aphrodisiac… She pulled back and he dropped his hands. He let her put a retreating step between them. He needed it as much as she did—before he did something outside his usual boundaries.
Eyes flecking over her, he gave a final warning “Don’t get too comfortable, Angel. Make no mistake, I am a predator. Maybe not like Ian—I do have standards—but you need to know I am very persistent when I want something, and I want you. I’ll make you want me back before its over—”
“Torture… is against the Geneva Convention,” her voice quavered, but Karim caught a certain wistful bravado in her tone.
“Yeah, well, we’re not in Geneva, baby.”
He turned quickly from her so she couldn’t see the dangerous glint in his eyes. Touché’ again. Pretty, oh-so-delectable Angel…
He reached to the middle of the bed to retrieve the Glock from where’d he’d tossed it, having the fleeting thought that it would have been within her easy reach, if she‘d scrambled for it. He could have stopped anything too dramatic before she could have gotten her finger on the trigger, but still, she hadn’t tried. Regardless of her mixed signals, years of experience told him—her desire matched his own. He just had to find the key—the right one that would open pretty Angel’s garden of delight to him. The goal was still in site…
He went to the door.
“Majed!”
To Angel—who hadn’t moved but was now watching him with a frustratingly indecipherable expression—he turned and said, “I’m going to take a shower. Majed will look after you. Don’t give him any trouble. Mustafa is out there too. Trust me, they do obey my orders implicitly.”
Yes, a fucking cold shower, and it probably wouldn’t help, but at least maybe he could regain some mental clarity. He turned back and she stepped out of his way, watching him with caution as he went to the dresser and grabbed some clean jeans and a black tee-shirt from the neatly folded stacks. He snatched his shoes up off the floor, and as an afterthought reached into the top dresser drawer and grabbed out a belt for his jeans so that he could attach the hip holster for the Glock. Having to be around Angel all day, there wasn’t going to be much room in there for anything else but his fucking hard dick, which was already demanding a new round. Torture my ass, he thought. He was the one with the fucking blue balls…
Majed appeared, hovering in the doorway with another little bag and hot rollers slung uncomfortably under his arm. He was also eyeing Karim with a green-eyed expression that conveyed derision. Karim wasn’t sure if it was resentment at being forced to participate in a hair-rolling-and-makeup session or if he had a pretty good take on what had just gone on between Karim and little miss Prick Tease here—no doubt a mix of both. The kid was good at this already. Under the tutelage of Abed, he would need only a few years to become a master of laying on the guilt trip.
When Karim emerged a while later from the bathroom, he had a few extra wounds on his chin he’d staunched with toilet paper. This didn’t help his foul mood. Majed was sitting stiffly on the couch with his rifle listening to Mustafa read a partial draft of the statement he was concocting for Angel. Karim hoped it wasn’t as florid as the shit he’d written for him for the plane…
“Majed—what the fuck are you doing out here? I told you what I required from you. I needed her ready like 10 minutes ago. And just who the fuck has been using my razor?”
He turned to Mustafa, who colored, then rubbed his stubbled chin and said, “Not me.”
“She sent me out,” Majed threw in with a shrug. His calm mirrored that of St. Abed, which served to provoke Karim further.
He focused his black glare completely on the 16 year-old now. “Sent you out?”
Majed did look a little uncomfortable now and shuffled his feet in Hassan’s scattered cigarette ashes on the carpet. “Yes. She said her cousin was a hairdresser and she knew how to do this. That she would prefer I leave her alone for a while.”
“Oh, she did, huh? So your taking orders from a woman now, Habibi? Jesus H. Christ, I guess now I’m a fucking failure at turning out hard-ass young fedayeen—” Karim turned back into the hall which he traversed in several quick strides. He jerked on the door and found it locked.
“Angel, open this fucking door right now!” He thundered.
“Just a minute,” she called back.
He rattled the knob so hard there was a minor splintering noise.
“Open the goddamn door, now!”
“I said, I’ll be out in a minute!” Two syllables in said. She hadn’t yelled back, but the baby’s breath voice was firm.
“You have less than a minute—don’t make me come in there. I will break the goddamn door down.” he turned and stomped back into the living area, shaking his head. What is this, fricking insubordination week?
He ran a hand up to his hair, blowing out heavily, then glanced up to see two pairs of eyes—brown and green—watching him in amazement, albeit it a little smirky. He cursed some more as he peeled off the tiny wades of toilet paper from his chin and threw them into the nearby overflowing garbage.
Nauseated by the smell, he was about to demand that Majed take the bag and the several others scattered around that were overflowing out into the hall, but just then there was a banging on the door. Majed leapt up and undid the complicated phalanx of locks, and Nidal strolled in with Ian, Rashid—now sans cast, Jamil, and one other man Karim had never cared enough to learn the name of.
“Ismaili’s downstairs, just reaming Bukra out a new asshole for the stench of the place. We left Hassan to secure the back stairs, so they‘re clear,” Nidal supplied, then added with a meaningful glance to Karim, “He’s pretty pissed you weren’t down there to greet him.”
The English stepped into the center of the room and raised a brow, looking around. “Where’s your little kus, El Azhar?”
Karim almost took a menacing step toward him, then remembered himself. He quickly slid into character. He casually hooked a thumb on his belt—but very near the side holster with the Glock, and tossed the English a smug glare. “She’s a little indisposed right now, but I think she’ll recover nicely. She’ll be out in a minute.”
For fucking God sakes Angel, he was thinking, get your ass out here like an obedient little piece of ass…
Ian’s eyes were narrow as he studied him back, no doubt taking in the fresh nail marks on Karim’s cheek and forearms. He looked sufficiently impressed. “Must be some sweet-ass pussy to go to all that work—at least for you. I knew she was like that. Could smell it on her, putting on all that fuckin’ miss innocence shit… Mmmm, Just like I like it, wild and hot, mate—wild and hot…”
“I don’t have any complaints—neither does she,” Karim smirked some more, willing his eyes to gleam only with male one-upmanship, not with the murderous thoughts he was nurturing of how the English would looked with his dick cut off and stuffed in his fucking foul mouth. He could guess where the jest of the conversation was leading as Ian licked his lips and put a hand down to adjust his crotch.
Measuring every word to edit out most of the anger boiling his blood now—sarcasm would have to suffice—Karim added. “I’m not ready to share, Mate, so get your cock under control. Mine’s bigger anyway, or so Michelle’s been telling me.” He imitated, “Oh, Gallo Mastero, baise moi vous plait! Fucking English has petite chauve roi Henry…”
Nidal chuckled, the little prick.
It was the English’s turn to look murderous. “Not when the lil’ frenchie gets fucked in the arse, she don’t complaint. Bet Blondie’d like it too… I did a little talking downstairs to the Colonel ‘bout that.”
Karim took that step. However, at that moment the report of the deadbolt on his bedroom door announced that Angel, the subject and not the percipient of this exchange—was about to put in her appearance. And speaking of fucking, Karim could only hope she didn’t look like a little prim school mistress. That would be like her, to come out with buttons up to her chin…
He saw the change in the English’s expression before he turned around.
Nidal was saying, in a slightly stunned murmur, the equivalent of “oh yeah baby, smoking hot” in French, which is about all he knew of the language after all these years—how to chat up the girls and barely negotiate himself safely through Phalangist checkpoints.
Karim caught a glimpse of Angel when she appeared in the hallway, and he knew his mouth fell open. He was glad the others couldn’t see his face.
Mon Dieu! Merde. Baise-moi… One part of him was thinking, Oh Hell yes, An-gel. Mmmm Baby girl… Come to Papa… The other part wanted to hunt down a blanket, his towel off the bathroom hook, one of Hassan’s dirty tee-shirts—anything to throw over her. Jesus Christ! Had he thought her sweet, pretty, at the least very fuckable before? Like Nidal kept muttering over and over, she was smoking.
She paused hesitantly midway down the hall, meeting Karim’s eyes. He read both a certain assurance—she knew she looked good—and a hint of discomfort in her expression. She started forward again. Karim couldn’t say a word himself, couldn’t move.
She stalled again, gaze slightly widening as she realized every male eye in the room was on her. With Certainty, she had to know the affect she was having—the only sound in the room right now were the masculine horn-dog murmurs and heavy-breathing. The thin-strapped red dress came only to mid-thigh, exposing bare, impossibly long, shapely legs—no nylons, she didn’t need them. She had on the clear shoes with the at least five-inch heels Michelle had also provided. The stretchy, thin material of the dress clung itself to her every curve, hollow and indentation. He could even see the recessed, sexy concave that suggested her navel. The scooped neckline—exposing devastating amounts of high, pushed-up cleavage—stopped just barely above the deep rosy pink of her nipples. Karim almost groaned out loud. His jeans felt instantly, miserably tighter. He could scarcely tear his eyes away from the amazingly hot below-the-neck view to look at her face, but when he did, it was worth it. Oh, by God, yes, baby—well worth it. Here before him was the complete package…
She had on makeup—but not the slightly over-the-top look he’d envisioned. Just a trace of eyeliner and light smudging in the corners of smoky eye shadow gave her eyes a slight oblique look and emphasized further the unusual azure blue of her irises. A well-blended hint on her cheeks of russet blush gave heightened definition to already sculpted cheek bones without making her look cheap. And the lips—what a little bit of candy apple-red did for Angel’s already too sexy mouth… Ya Habibti. She did have the big hair thing going on, but it was soft, wind-tousled looking. Loose golden curls, falling mainly in several touchable layers just above her waist, bounced with each step she took toward him, causing an overall shimmering effect with Michelle’s gold jewelry as she stepped from the hall into the light.
She paused again, just a few feet from him now, and said almost in a whisper, “Is this… what you wanted?“
Oh my God, what he wanted… What the fuck did she say? Geneva Convention my ass. He knew he was fucking toast…
Karim finally found the presence of mind to seize her by the arm, almost pulling her off the sexy high heels with the little gold ankle bracelet winking above one as he drew her hard to his side. He shoved the Glock back into its holster. He didn’t even realize he’d pulled it out. He glanced down again to make sure she regained her footing. Red polish on her toenails… And fingernails. He’d apologize to Majed later. The kid had thought of everything, and had the finesse’ to know when he needed to back off. Good fucking boy.
Good God, Angel, cut me some slack here…
Her tits pressed into his arm, eyes growing wide as she looked in the direction of Ian and Rashid. Karim turned with Angel safely tucked against his shoulder and threw the English a glance that now radiated deadly warning.
“Jamil, Rashid, Ian—you go in the lead,” he said, gesturing toward the door. He tried to meet his brother’s eyes, but Jamil refused to even look in Karim’s direction. He was also the only one in the room whose eyes were not lingering on Angel. Not with a wolfish stare like the more mature men, nor the stolen, red-faced glances of the younger ones. This was the kind of shit that bothered Karim about the too-quiet 23 year old. It just wasn’t normal. He pulled the Glock back out again out in readiness. Then he realized Ian was not moving in front to form the point of the vanguard. He turned behind him and glared.
The big English grinned back. “Oh no mate, you don’t think I’m going to miss the rear-view of this? Not on yer life.”
“Suit yourself, but if you come within ten feet of her, I’ll have good excuse to force-feed you your fucking balls,” Karim snarled.
He turned to Mustafa and Nidal and motioned for them to fall in behind Ian and no-name guy, leaving Majed to bring up the rear. This would also make it easier for the teenager to exit the stairs and head for the relative safety of Abed’s area without a lot of fanfare. Of course, they would have to move at some point to Karim’s left and right when they got downstairs. Stray ‘rabble’, or an attempt by another group to increase their dick-size could not be discounted.
He felt Angel trembling against him and dropped his arm from her shoulders to a more secure grip around her waist. He whispered in her ear, “Shhh. It’s okay baby. He knows its true. I can and do kick his ass regularly. Just don’t get more than a foot away from me, understand?”
She glanced up at him and nodded. He could see raw fear in her eyes now. More than anything, he wished right now he could send her home, send her back to the safety of his room—anything other than subject her to what was ahead. Like Abed said last night, It’s going to be bad… He felt her shiver again and tightened his grip, hoping she would perceive it as a comfort gesture. He was glad she couldn’t know that Ian once in a while kicked his ass too. True, he mostly kept the upper hand. The score wasn’t even—not really close, but this was real life as they lived it and there were no guarantees. Could he actually protect her?
…Just make it up as you go, and don‘t work too hard at it. That’s what he’d always done. It was the best he could do for her. Right now, with her sweet face staring up at him, like Abed had said, too trusting, it didn’t seem good enough. Of course, Abed was a fine one to talk.
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WOW. i absolutely LOVED it. I cannot wait to go back and read the rest.
I loved the way you portrayed Karim’s intense passion for Angel. It really made me WANT her to give into him. But then again, i really like that she didn’t and he just took it as a challenge. I can’t wait to read more and see how that pans out.
I haven’t read the previous chapters (which i plan on doing ASAP) but you really made this a clear read. It all made sense, despite the fact that this is the first chapter i’m reading.
You ended the chapter off with a great cliffhanger. You built it (her meeting with Isaili) up well throughout the chapter and you definitely left me wanting to hurry up and see if that whole “seduction” scene and Angel getting all done up will be worth it.
My only gripe is (and it’s really probably because i haven’t read the previous chapters) i don’t see Angel when I’m reading. I get the crazy attraction Karim has to her, but i would have like to see what attracts him to her more than her eyes and hair (that’s what i got most of). You did mention a few more things here and there but I the way you were redundent about her hair and eyes, i would have liked to hear about something else (maybe her skintone, her curves, her lips. anything.) of course, it could just be me, but redundence is what really makes his feelings more intense. I know that HE knows she’s beautiful, but I want to know she beautiful, too, you know?
I’m sorry i don’t have more to say but honestly, i really loved it. i have nothing else that i would suggest working on. It was really a great read and i cannot wait to go back and read more.
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