Chapter 119

[ 819 words ]

Katia’s POV

“Whatever the pattern turns out to be,” he said, “it doesn’t change tonight. It doesn’t change the last four days.” He paused. “And it doesn’t change what I already know about that boy. Which is that he is extraordinary. And whoever his father is — that man has been missing the most important thing in his life p>

I looked at our hands on the blanket.

“You can’t say things like that,” I said.

“Why not p>

“Because I don’t know what to do with them p>

“You don’t have to do anything with them,” he said. “Just let them be true p>

The stars burned above us. Thurayya, Qalb al-Asad, and Al Jawzah. The ones that had guided people home for thousands of years before any of this existed.

I turned my hand over and held his.

The tension, which had been a low hum for days, suddenly spiked, turning the cold desert air electric. Julian didn’t let go of my hand; he pulled it toward him, his eyes never leaving mine. The way he looked at me was ruthless, a dark, heavy weight that made it impossible to breathe.

“Katia,” he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel. “This is leading somewhere I can’t turn back from p>

He reached out, his hand sliding into my hair, tilting my head back. He kissed me then—a hard, desperate collision of teeth and tongue. I pushed back, my hands finding the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until there was no air between us. We went down on the blanket together, the desert sand shifting beneath us as Julian pinned me.

He was frantic, his hands moving over my body with a raw, possessive hunger. He reached between us, his fingers finding the center of my heat, rubbing hard, focused circles over my clit that had me arching off the blanket. I reached for him, my hand diving into his trousers, finding him thick and pulsing. I gripped him, my thumb dragging over the head of his dick, feeling the slick heat of him.

“Julian,” I sobbed into his mouth.

He stripped off his shirt, violently hitting the sand. I shed my clothes just as fast, the desert wind biting at my skin until he covered me again. He was naked, bronze and powerful in the starlight. He settled between my legs, his weight a crushing, beautiful reality.

He didn’t wait. He positioned himself against me, his cock pressing firmly against my entrance. He began to move his hips, a slow, deep dry hump that had him slipping through my wetness, the friction so intense it felt like fire. He increased the pace, his length sliding over me, almost thrusting inside, pausing just at the threshold before pulling back to slide over my clit again.

“I want to be inside you so bad I can’t think,” he groaned, his forehead pressed against mine, his eyes wild and dark. “But I’m not… I’m not going to yet p>

He ground himself against me, his hips bucking as he chased the edge. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him even tighter, my fingers digging into his back. He leaned down, taking my nipple into his mouth and sucking with the intensity that matched the movement of his hips.

I hit the limit first, my internal muscles snapping and pulsing around him as a jagged climax tore through me. Julian let out a guttural, animal sound, his movements becoming frantic. He pushed himself against me one last time, almost breaking the threshold, before he came with a force that had him shaking, his seeds spilling hot and thick against my thighs.

We lay in the silence for a long time, the only sound our synchronized, heavy breathing and the distant shift of the sand.

Hassan drove us back at eleven thirty. The city rebuilt itself on the horizon as we approached — the towers, the lights, and the noise of a place that never stopped.

At the hotel entrance Julian walked me to the door. He stopped.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

“The expansion conference opens at nine,” I said.

“Before that.” He looked at me. “Breakfast. Six AM. Just us p>

I looked at him for a moment.

“Six AM,” I said.

He nodded. His hand came up briefly and touched my face — just his fingers, just a moment, the lightest possible contact that somehow carried the weight of everything that had been said in the desert.

Then he stepped back.

I went inside.

In the elevator I pressed my back against the wall and looked at the ceiling and thought about a sky full of stars and a man who navigated by pattern and a boy at home in Brooklyn who had that man’s jaw and his hands and his way of looking at the world.

The elevator opened on my floor.

I went to bed.

I did not sleep for a long time.

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