A Thorned Rose in the Sand by Lea Bronsen

Author:Lea Bronsen [Bronsen, Lea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Having found a discreet spot far from the camp, far from anyone’s curiosity (one didn’t get much privacy in such a small community), Ragab took off his tunic, folded it into a cushion, and put it on the ground. He glanced around. Big, wavy sand dunes flanked him, and the only witness to his sin—he’d lied to Stevie about having “one single sin,” although now that he’d sworn never to smoke again, it was true—was the big, white moon above, and it didn’t care much what he did.

He sat on his tunic, legs spread, and unbuttoned his pants.

Hours ago, unable to sleep, he’d snuck out and paced here and there for a long time, pondering about his attraction to her, weighing the pros and cons. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d concluded they were both better off if he stayed away from her and she returned to her life in America. She was going to in any case, and not come back unless she participated in motorcycle rallies, but how often was that, once a year? Yes, he had to forget about her, even though it hurt, before she hurt him more.

He closed his eyes with a reluctant sigh and pulled his cock out of his pants. Too much tension had built during the day. It’d started with worry, then continued with lust, anger, more lust… And he’d been hard half of the time. There was only one way to release some of that strain and get his mind off the different subjects messing with him, and he’d waited long enough.

He stroked his stiffening cock gently at first, base to top, conjuring up the familiar image of the faceless woman whose sexy body had driven him to explosion in the past years. Sometimes she spun to him, full breasts with perky brown nipples swinging as she did an alluring belly dance to Arab music, and sometimes she turned to show her generous ass, bending forward with her sex leaking arousal and begging him to fill her.

Tonight, he preferred to take her from behind. It was more distancing, less personal. He wasn’t in the mood for romance or sensual dancing. He wanted a quick penetration and a stress-releasing climax.

An interference occurred, like when a television image blurred and another image transposed. The one of a real woman. Not just her sexy body, but her face. Stevie’s face…

No!

He shouldn’t think of her, shouldn’t. She was a mistake!

And yet the erotic picture occupied his mind—the red-haired beauty he’d become attracted to in the course of a day, washing by the well in the torrid desert, daring him with her wild greens while offering a generous feminine figure of sweet, velvety skin and perfect round butt cheeks, and, as she leaned forward, her open, welcoming sex.

No! Stevie had been scarred by another man, remember?

Stupid, stupid.

He refused to touch her, refused to hurt her. If it took interrupting his masturbation in order not to have anything to do with her, so be it. He wanted to keep his conscience clean.

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