The Formidable King Page 21

  ‘I want to taste you too, Gabriel.’ Her hair fell forward as she lowered her head and licked around the head of his shaft, wanting to pleasure him the way he’d pleasured her. Lapping up the dewy evidence of his arousal, inhibition was forgotten as she drew him deep into her mouth.

  Everything in her exalted in the moment.

  It was wonderful. Empowering. Exciting.

  ‘Oh, God, India,’ he groaned as she went to work on him in earnest with her mouth and her hands.

  This knowledge that she could pleasure him orally—that he could pleasure her with the same degree of intimacy without any penetration brought her huge relief. It gave her confidence their marriage could last—that they could enjoy a sexual relationship and bring each other physical fulfilment.

  India revelled in having Gabriel in her mouth—in listening to his hoarse encouragement as she tried different actions with her tongue—stroking his length, circling his tip...

  ‘No more!’ he groaned.

  She lifted her head to look questioningly at him. ‘But I want to, Gabriel. I love doing this for you.’

  Stark need—tormented need—scored his features before he nodded.

  Later, as India lay sleepily with her head pillowed against his chest and one leg crooked up over Gabriel’s hair-roughened thighs, she was incredibly happy. She and her husband were lovers—maybe not in the strictest sense, but it was a hell of a start.

  When dawn finally cast its soft light through the gap from the unclosed curtain at the window, India knew she wanted more.

  About half an hour ago, Gabriel had moved in his sleep. India had come awake with a start when his legs had tangled with hers and the weight of his thigh had pressed down against hers and she’d been aware of the nudge of his erection against her flesh.

  Initial panic had turned to relief when she’d realised she was in bed with Gabe. Relief had been pierced by the prick of an earth-shattering epiphany. India wanted Gabriel as her lover in the truest sense of the word.

  Gabe had said he was proud of her and wanted her to be proud of herself.

  She’d told him she trusted him, but didn’t she also need to trust herself?

  Another thought hit her. She’d told Gabriel he needed to overcome his belief that he brought harm to others and couldn’t protect them—that he’d been stuck in the traumatic moment he’d experienced as a seven-year-old. Wasn’t she just as guilty of being stuck in the violent crime that had been perpetrated against her in her adolescence—of not trusting enough to move forward?

  As swiftly as she had the thought, India was moving.

  When Gabriel opened sleep-blurry eyes, India was straddling his hips. ‘Good morning.’

  His blunt gaze sharpened at the speed of light and she saw realisation register. ‘India? Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m one hundred per cent sure about what I want. I’m less sure I’m going to be able to go about this with any sort of style or grace unless you help me out here.’

  He looked uncertain.

  ‘You trust me, don’t you?’ she asked, throwing his words back at him.

  In response, one hand slipped down between them while the other traced along her spine then followed up along the curve of her buttocks, her hip, her rib cage and finally moulded the shape of her breast.

  ‘Kiss me,’ he commanded.

  India leaned forward, her hair brushing against him as she did exactly as he bid. The kiss went from gently seeking to hungrily demanding in the space of a few seconds, and she was the one who couldn’t get enough of him.

  Gabe’s hand cupped her pubic mound before he sent his fingers on a questing mission. They teased her flesh and had her moaning with her need for fulfilment.

  Parting her folds and using the pad of one fingertip to run along her seam and gauge her readiness, he positioned the tip of his penis at her entryway. ‘Sink down slowly, India.’

  Gabriel didn’t take his gaze off her face. It was an incredibly, intimately bonding moment to look deeply into his eyes as she lowered herself slowly down onto his penis, inch by inexorable inch.

  It was a smooth glide down until he was buried deep inside her.

  No ripping. No pain. Just a wonderfully welcome stretching of her feminine passage. ‘Okay?’ he asked.

  She smiled down at him. ‘Much better than okay, Gabe. You feel so incredible.’ The sense of fullness was one she wanted to savour. ‘I could be here forever like this with you.’

  ‘You’d kill me,’ he told her with a grimace. ‘You have no idea what it’s costing me to hold still inside you.’

  She smiled back at him. ‘Then I guess I’d better move.’

  Oh, and she was so pleased when she did. Nothing had prepared her for the divine ecstasy of sensation as she raised and lowered herself on his length.

  Gabriel lay still for a little longer, allowing her to find her own rhythm and her own pleasure before he started moving—thrusting up into her as she bore down, easing back as she pulled away.

  Oh God, but it was so sweet—so compellingly addictive—every thought was driven from her mind except her physical need for completion.

  ‘Good?’ he grated.

  Words were beyond her. All she could do was moan her affirmation.

  His hands were under her buttocks, helping her lift and urging her to increase the tempo of their coupling. Every movement drugged her with pleasure and her climax came hard and fast. Inner muscles spasming around him, she cried out with the earth-shattering magnitude of her orgasm.

  ‘Yes.’ Gabe’s hoarse cry barely registered through her rapture. It was only when she was drifting back into reality that she knew he’d reached his own fulfilment and cherished the knowledge they’d shared it together.

  India planted kisses against his chest while he stroked his fingers tenderly along her cheek, then allowed them to comb gently through her hair as she settled herself down and let him hold her close on top of him.

  She looked up at him from below her lashes, marvelling that he looked younger—more relaxed since their lovemaking—and even more handsome than ever. Listening to the sure, steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her fingertips traced idly through the soft hairs of his chest and she savoured this warm contentment in the aftermath of lovemaking.

  Before long, she stifled a yawn.

  ‘There’s still time to go back to sleep, darling,’ he told her. ‘This time dream happy dreams.’

  She bent her arm to support her head as she smiled down at him. ‘They’re bound to be happy dreams if I dream of you. I’m so glad you’re my husband.’

  Dark-blue eyes smiled contentedly into hers. ‘I’m so glad you’re my wife.’

  Cuddling back into him, she inhaled the achingly familiar scent of him and loved the intimacy of their naked bodies entwined together. His leg moved between hers as he shifted to his side. Instead of panicking at the weight of it, she rejoiced in it. Opening herself up to Gabriel—loving him and allowing him to love her in return—had gone a long way to chasing her demons away. They might rear their ugly heads from time to time, but if she did have a nightmare, it was reassuring to know that Gabe would be in bed beside her and she could turn to him for comfort and support.

  Chapter 17

  India held Gabriel’s hand tightly as they stood at the podium together at the press conference. Only ten minutes previously, the case against India had been thrown out of court. The judges had decided that India had been raped and had acted in self-defence when she’d committed manslaughter. As a minor, they said she was not responsible for covering up the crime, and that—in the political circumstances—while they didn’t absolve her parents’ actions, they understood them. They’d said that as her parents were deceased, nothing more was to be done.

  The ruling indirectly vindicated the French Ambassador’s action in not handing India over to the dictator—although nothing had been said about India’s most recent trip to Bagazin. The hearing had focused entirely on the events that had occurred and led to Charl
es Mawandi’s death.

  Gabriel cleared his throat and addressed the room, which was packed with journalists from all over the world. ‘Thank you all for coming and thank you for the support you’ve shown us during this very stressful time.’ He squeezed India’s hand. ‘By now, you’re all aware that my wife has been cleared of the actions she took in self-defence when she was a teenager.’

  His speech was interrupted by a burst of applause.

  ‘I’m immensely proud of her,’ Gabe continued when the applause died down. ‘As I’m sure you’ll understand, the questions she’s already faced in the courtroom have been harrowing, and I ask that you respect her need to make one last statement about her ordeal, but refrain from subjecting her to any further questions.’ The words were not a request. India saw the steely warning in her husband’s eyes and was thankful that he was at his most formidable when he was protecting her. ‘I’ll now present Queen India for her comments.’

  There was another short burst of applause.

  India swallowed and adjusted the microphone a fraction, then took out the speech she’d prepared. ‘Every day, in every country, there are girls and women, and boys and men who are subjected to a multitude of sexual offences. Sexual assault is a heinous and brutal act. It has nothing to do with normal sexual impulses and in fact isn’t about sex. Sexual assault is a crime of violence that is all about power and control—about humiliating and brutalising the victim. It’s a crime that survives, and indeed thrives, when we continue to treat it as a taboo subject or while society still suggests that the victim’s behaviour is at the heart of the cause.

  ‘I was raped in a country which has no law, no protection and no justice. Yet even in societies where there is a strong legal system, too often sufficient justice is not meted out to the perpetrator, and insufficient justice is available for the victim. And even when the rapist goes to jail, the victim of rape is left dealing with the crime—playing it over and over in her or in his head and reliving the terror and feeling of helplessness.

  ‘As a victim of sexual assault I understand the residual trauma, which continues long after the physical brutality is over. Guilt, sadness, fear, self-revulsion, anger and bitterness are just some of the emotions the victim goes through. Believe me, this violation has an enormous impact on the survivor’s self-esteem and self-worth and it takes a huge amount of strength and a lot of support to move on and especially,’ she sent Gabriel a tremulous smile, ‘to feel safe in forming a normal, healthy and loving relationship.

  ‘I hope that by speaking out, I can send a message to survivors of sexual assault. There is no disgrace and no shame that should be borne by the victim. All the shame belongs to the aggressor. It’s also a shame that our society bears if we don’t support and nurture the victims—if we are too uncomfortable to speak about this shocking subject.

  ‘In support of victims of sexual assault, plans are already underway to establish a foundation in my name. As well as helping victims and their families, I intend to do all I can internationally to lobby politicians to fight against sexual assault, and I want to encourage everyone to talk about this crime rather than hiding it away in the shadows so we’re not confronted by it when it’s mentioned. We need to bring it right into the spotlight. I ask you, the international community of journalists, to help me do this because we have to do it together.’

  India shook hard. Her hands trembled and the deep muscles in her calves were in spasm. She looked out upon the sea of faces in the room. Everyone seemed to hang on to her every word but it was impossible for her to gauge their reactions to her impassioned plea.

  Nobody moved.

  Nobody spoke.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said at last as she started to fold up the paper she held.

  A chair scraped back—then another and another, until every journalist in the room stood and the applause was thunderous.

  Biting down on her lip to stop the tears, which threatened to flow at such an incredibly overwhelming show of support, India turned to Gabe. She was about to tell him she needed to leave, but he knew already.

  With a quick nod to the room, Gabriel placed his protective arm around India and led her from the room.

  ***

  Later that night, as she lay in Gabriel’s arms, India ran her hand over his chest and knew she was ready to remove the last barrier. ‘Gabe?’

  ‘Yes, darling?’

  ‘Tonight, I want you to make love to me. That is, I want to change position. I want you to go on top.’

  He stroked his hand across her forehead. ‘If you think you’re ready for that?’

  ‘I know you’ve been avoiding putting any weight on me, but I’m ready now. I want to make love with you that way.’

  Showing her all the tender care and consideration she was growing used to, her fabulous husband kissed and caressed her and made love to her with his mouth and his hands to stoke the fire of her passion—fire that never seemed to fully die out, but was always smouldering slowly, waiting to be fanned back into life.

  When he braced himself with his hands on either side of her shoulders, never breaking eye contact as he positioned himself between her legs, she was ready for him. The heaviness of his erection brushed against her thigh. A tiny bubble of panic formed and she used the memories of her newly found physical pleasures to beat it down.

  Unwilling to be a passive participant, she allowed her hands free rein to explore his magnificent body.

  Gabriel’s body.

  Her palms spread over the broad expanse of his chest, her fingertips tweaking at his male nipples and delighting in seeing them pinch into tauter nubs. And as he pressed his lips against her neck, she allowed her hands to sink lower—to feel the ridges of his abdominal muscles before tracing down to the hardness of his pelvic bones.

  Oh, so gloriously male; it gave her enormous satisfaction to have his huge frame shudder beneath her touch.

  So hard to her softness—each part of him a magnificent contrast to her. Daringly, she looked all the way down his frame as it hovered over hers. Her gaze locked on to his manhood as it bumped against the part of her that was still sensitive from where he’d brought her apart that morning. The head of his penis knocked against her, warning her it wanted entry—perhaps trying to desensitise her for his possession in this position.

  If Gabriel’s aim was desensitisation, his actions were an abject failure. Instead, each nudge increased her sensitivity. Desire overwhelmed apprehension and she parted her thighs wider for him as her hands trailed across the width of his back, feeling the perspiration that moistened his skin. A quick look up to the intensity of his expression and she realised it was costing him to go slowly with her.

  In complete consideration for her needs and her readiness, Gabriel’s hand smoothed over her breasts once again before it slipped back to the damp, delicate softness below.

  He closed the gap between them slowly and she held tight as he allowed his hair-roughened thighs to brush against hers. He rotated his hips against her pelvis, gradually increasing his weight against her. She burrowed her head into his shoulder, breathing in his scent, loving the intimacy, welcoming each sensation and trying to relax and centre on knowing she was sharing this experience with Gabriel. There was no reason to feel nervous with her husband and her lover.

  A soft whimper escaped against his shoulder as he brought the tip of his erection to stroke against her sensitised clitoris.

  ‘Still with me, India?’ he husked.

  All she could do was nod.

  ‘Relax, sweetheart,’ he murmured. Then, looking deep into her eyes he asked, ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes.’ Yes. She was ready. She loved Gabriel and she wasn’t afraid. She wanted him back inside her—wanted to be transported back to enjoy the wonderful ecstasy she knew they could share.

  He captured her mouth with his while he parted her with his fingers. Then he was there.

  ‘Look at me, darling.’

  It was another shatteringly intimate
moment, to look into the blue depths of his eyes while his body merged slowly with hers. Not a violent conqueror but a caring partner who was sensitive to her fears and to her needs.

  Slowly, he stretched her as he entered her aching void, seeming conscious to keep her with him in this moment, to let her body accommodate to his gradually and not give her too much of his length and thickness too soon.

  She lifted her buttocks off the soft mattress and pushed up against him.

  Gabriel groaned and closed his eyes.

  She watched the strain on his face as he started to withdraw. Felt the shudder rack through him as he thrust back again—all control.

  Her hands travelled possessively over the plains of his back and the dip of his spine before settling on the firm mounds of his buttocks. Eagerly, she matched the fluid, rocking rhythm of his body in counterpoint, driving up more firmly to meet his thrusts and pulling her body back down as he withdrew. Revelling in the delicious, intoxicating friction, every cell reached for and demanded greater satisfaction.

  ‘More, Gabriel,’ she urged as she arched her pelvis up.

  ‘Can you wrap your legs around my waist?’ he rasped.

  She’d do anything he suggested to sate her physical longing.

  ‘Oh!’ she cried out.

  It was so good.

  With her legs wrapped around him and her hips tilted, he plunged even deeper into her yielding warmth. God, but she was frantic to grasp for the ecstasy of the release, which she knew lay just out of reach. She clung on to his shoulders and raked her fingers through his hair as her heart pounded against her rib cage. Instinctively her inner muscles squeezed around him, urging him to thrust harder. The pleasure grew more intense, rippling through her until she began to arch off the bed and to spasm in a frenzy of glorious abandonment. Her cries of ecstasy rent the air. The euphoria reached a crescendo and plunged her over the edge into sweet oblivion.