The first veil falls.
“It’s called raq? bládi, which literally means ‘dance of the region,’ but Westerners know it as ‘belly dance.’”
I swallow hard. “I can imagine why.”
Slowly, the veils fall to the floor, until only one remains.
“I doubt it. You probably think it’s something purely seductive, but the truth”—she pauses, holding the last veil—“is that its main purpose is to prepare a woman, through religious rites, to become a mother.”
In seconds, I’m on her.
I pull away the remaining veil. “You can’t tell me something like that if you expect me to behave. Naked, sexy as hell, and carrying my child inside you, you’re more temptation than I can handle, duchess.”
“I can dance another day,” she says, breathless. “Right now, I need you inside me.” She reaches behind her back and removes the bustier.
I scoop her up and take one of her breasts into my mouth.
“We already had a sweet wedding night. Tonight, I need you to take me hard.” Her hand is between our bodies, inside my boxers, stroking me with just the right pressure to drive me insane. Jazmina has learned my body over these past months, just as I’ve learned hers.
“Ask me for whatever you want me to do.”
“I don’t use dirty words.”
I rip her panties apart with a precise movement. “Tell me you want me to eat this pussy.” I brush my thumb against her entrance.
She lifts herself in my arms, trying to fit herself onto me, but I don’t allow it.
“Say it.”
“Please, I want you inside me. I may not have the courage to ask for filthy things, but there’s nothing more perfect than you inside me.”
Her words break me. Purity mixed with desire. The courage to give herself to me completely.
I enter her, invading her walls, and set a hard rhythm.
Maybe it isn’t a perfect fuck. Because it’s a special night, I probably should go slow, but that’s not who we are.
We don’t follow protocols or manuals.
Our love is lustful, dirty, wild.
Minutes later, satisfied, I lie down with her on the bed.
“I don’t want you to change,” she says, over my body, her hand stroking the back of my neck.
“I don’t know if I understand.”
“I love you, and I don’t want you to change the way you are with me. I feel like a princess by your side, not because I hold a noble title but because you value and respect me. When I said you needed to deal with your past, it was because I want you to be free, Rodrick. For us to move forward, you need to free yourself. That even means working through your hatred toward Gilroy.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. He lied in front of my father, fully aware that I was telling the truth, both about the abuse and later about the beatings, claiming I had disobeyed Iona and that she punished me so I’d learn to respect her.”
“I didn’t bring this up to upset you,” she says, never stopping her caresses despite my harsh tone, “but because when we land in the United Kingdom, I want a fresh start for both of us. Without so much resentment.”
“Your intention is admirable, Jazmina, but he and I will never be friends.”
“I know, and I never expected that, but keep in mind that Gilroy was a victim too. I’m not a psychologist, but since he was the son of your former stepmother and was vulnerable to that wretched woman from the very beginning, his mind must be deeply damaged, to say the least. I’m not saying you should become friends, only that you should be able to think about him without so much hatred. Forgiveness isn’t about others, husband; it’s about us. The moment you grant it, you’ll be free.”
Chapter 51