The Sultan's Bed by Laura Wright

yet firm strokes. “If I do not please you, tell me now and I will summon Larz.”
    â€œLarz?” Mariah laughed softly.
    â€œOne of the masseurs on duty. A large Swede with wild eyes.”
    â€œIs that so?”
    â€œYes.” Zayad shook his head. “What a man like that could know about hot stone massage is nothing.”
    â€œAnd you do?”
    â€œA common practice in my country.” He took a stone from a small basket, held it up. “Shall I continue?”
    â€œThis is the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me, but—”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œAll right.” She turned, let her head fall back into the doughnut-hole thingy and let human nature take itscourse. “So, why did we have to come all the way here if you’re such an expert?”
    After a moment he said, “This massage is just one of many treatments—and the only one I will administer.”
    â€œNo sugar rubs or deep-sea exfoliation back home?”
    â€œNo.” He placed several stones on her back, then applied light pressure. “A woman’s skin would not be fed sugar strictly for the purpose of beauty.”
    Heat fused into Mariah’s belly, then quickly spread downward, between her thighs. “I’m almost too afraid to ask…”
    â€œWe use such things as…I think you call it foreplay.”
    â€œForeplay?”
    â€œIt is not a common practice but a sensual game.” He removed the stones, then massaged deep and wonderfully hard in the hot spots.
    â€œA game,” Mariah mumbled, feeling too good.
    â€œStimulating the skin for the woman while stimulating the tongue for the man.”
    Mariah fairly jumped with tension as his words hit her full force. Her mind took hold of an image and clung to it. An image she’d not allowed herself in years. A man’s head between her thighs—this man’s head between her thighs.
    She inhaled deeply as her breasts tingled and her belly clenched.
    And then hot stones were placed on the back of her neck and the soles of her feet.
    She gave a startled gasp, or maybe it was a moan of pleasure—who could tell at this moment? She was hardly thinking straight.
    â€œThe heat will ebb,” he told her soothingly. “Then fuse into your muscles.”
    As he spoke, the words he uttered turned to fact and she felt herself fall deeply into relaxation.
    She let her mind drift, let her body go limp as he placed stones on her calves and her thighs. She didn’t argue or feel embarrassed as he eased the towel from her and placed two hot stones on her bottom.
    â€œHow did you do it?” she asked, her voice as slow as her mind.
    â€œDo what, Mariah?”
    â€œThis. This massage. The spa management would probably kick us out if they—”
    â€œI have taken care of everything. There is no problem. Do not think of it.”
    â€œMy mind should be a blank canvas, right?”
    He chuckled. “No, you should be thinking of pleasure.”
    As if she could think of anything else at this moment. Well, besides Zayad on top of her, spreading her legs, entering her slowly as he nipped and kissed the back of her neck and the lobes of her ears.
    â€œPlease turn over.”
    Too lost in her fantasy, she muttered a raspy, “What?”
    â€œTurn onto your back, Mariah.”
    â€œMy back?”
    â€œYes.”
    The fantasy subsided and reality took over. Turning over meant she would be totally exposed—head to toe and everything in between.
    The slow, rhythmic beats of her heart suddenly jumped and pounded. “Where’s the towel?”
    â€œYou do not need it.”
    â€œI think I do.”
    She felt his face close to hers, his lips at her ear and his hands on her waist. “You have a beautiful body. Nothing to be ashamed of. If you could feel what simply looking at you has done to me, you would not fret as you do.”
    She turned her head, reveled for a moment