fluttered closed. She’d been so irritated with him earlier, and now her body melted at his touch. “I wonder where else on your body I might find clay.”
She opened her eyes wide and laughed. “I’m sure there’s none under my clothes.”
“How sure?” His eyes blazed, and Laila’s breath caught in her chest. “Are you absolutely sure there’s no clay on your skin? It’s on your clothes.” He took Laila’s wrist in his fingers and brought it into the light. “There’s clay on your sleeve...” Zayid clicked his tongue. “This won’t do. Not for a dinner with my wife.”
Laila caught a glimpse of one of the staff in the doorway to the dining room, watching them carefully, tray in hand. “It’s too late to change.”
“It’s never too late to change.” Zayid took her hand and led her out of the dining room, down the hall and into his bedroom. Desire worked its way over Laila’s skin, making goose bumps rise and a laugh burst from her lips.
“Where are we going?”
“The shower,” Zayid said sternly, but she saw the smile at the corners of his lips. In the bathroom, he shut the door behind them. “Hold up your arms.”
She did as he said, her nipples peaking as he slipped her tunic over her head, exposing her bra. Zayid’s gaze swept critically over all of it. “No clay so far,” he said, and undid the clasps. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, then gave each one a little pinch. Laila let her head fall back, the pleasure driving all the way to her spine and between her legs. “I want to see the rest of you.”
He kept up this game until they were both naked, the shower running hot beside them, and Zayid pressed a kiss to the side of her lips. “I’m going to get that clay out of your hair,” he whispered. “Get into the shower.”
They stepped in, her breath electric with anticipation. “I know how to make this easier for you,” she said solemnly, and then she sank to her knees in front of him.
Zayid’s cock was already hard and ready, and she wrapped her hands around it, testing the thickness. This earned her a groan. Taking it into her mouth earned her a low moan. And then she felt the cool of the shampoo hitting the top of her head. She worked Zayid, and Zayid worked his hands through her hair, bubbles cascading to the tiled floor beneath them. His muscles trembled and shook, even with his feet planted firmly on the floor, and his noises got lower and more animal with every moment. Until finally words burst out of him. “Your hair is finally clean.” He pulled her, grinning, up from the floor. “But I need you. I need you now.”
“I need you more,” she breathed, and she let Zayid turn her around, his touch moving over all her most sensitive places, and guide her hands to the wall. His fingers danced between her legs, and she let out a panting breath. Zayid rolled her clit between his fingers and entered her from behind, filling her in one slow, delicious stroke. “More,” she said, the words in her mind folding into one another and becoming one long sound of pleasure. “More.”
12
Laila worked the clay in her hands on the traditional potter’s wheel in her studio, trying to keep her focus light and her hands steady. Delicate touch, she told herself for the hundredth time. Delicate touch.
“Excellent.” Talif stood close by, watching. “Keep it going.”
Her skill had increased with every lesson on the traditional wheel, and Laila’s heart lit up at the praise. Talif was a bit old school with his instructions—he offered lots of encouragement but kept his praise sparing. She knew this meant that the work really was up to par. But she kept her focus on the clay in her hands. The traditional shape of the Raihani pot was different from her usual style. She was going to perfect one. No two ways about it. But the shape of the lip took extra concentration.
Laila took a deep breath. This was the trickiest part. The wide lip, along with the specific curve of it—she hadn’t managed to get one perfect. But today was going to be the day. Today—
The door to the studio burst open, and a guard’s voice boomed across the space. “Your Highness, the crown prince requests your presence.” Laila jumped, the clay wobbling out of balance and out of shape under her hands.