We’re over half way in the story…. Desert Orchid, Chapter Sixteen.





Hello, my darlings,

You know, sharing these chapters has brought the original story back to life for me in a way that’s been amazing. I wrote this in 2012-13 and published the story in 2014. My writing has come a very long way since then…. The next chapter has intimate scenes, but I’ve left it as I wrote it….. enjoy…..



Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014

Chapter Sixteen

Khalid couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers.

Blue eyes shone into his filled with compassion and complete trust, with total faith, in him.

And his heart torpedoed into his mouth.

She was delusional.

What the hell had he been thinking, declaring himself like that? And because he loved her so desperately it hurt, he knew he couldn’t do this to her or to himself.

Earlier, they’d agreed to have nothing but the truth between them. But the girl standing before him—and she was a girl—could never be woman enough for him.

With her past, how could she be?

For too many years, he’d had sex whenever and wherever he wanted it. Plus, he’d only had sex with experienced, beautiful women; models, actresses and socialites who shared his sexual appetites and needs. But having sex with the woman he loved would be so very different. Even though he’d only touched her once, it had been amazing.



However, he had needs.

Dark desires that Charisse, so sheltered and protected, had no conception of.

The flat of her hand slapped his bare butt, hard.

And the feel of it, the sound of it shook him right out of his introspection.

His eyes found hers and she slapped him again, harder.

Or did she really have no conception of dark desires?

His eyes narrowed on her flushed face as she gazed up at him. And he remembered the silver scars on her bare bottom. The memory of how mortified and embarrassed she’d been when he’d seen them slid like a snake into his mind. It struck him that his wife was ashamed of her body. She was ashamed of what had happened to her. And because Khalid lived with shame every single day and understood the agony of it, he found it intolerable that Charisse should suffer, too.

He could do nothing about his own shame, but he could do plenty about hers.

She trembled as she kept perfectly still with her arms wrapped around his waist, her big eyes on his, and he could almost see that clever brain of hers working out her next move.

Was it possible he was being played?

Being manoeuvred by an expert into exposing the black heart that lived at the core of his being?  If true, then she had no idea who she was dealing with here. He could almost see the white puffy clouds depicting her dreams of a happy-ever-after in her poor deluded little mind. Charisse wanted a fairytale happy ending and it seemed she’d cast him as her prince.

In truth, he was her worst nightmare and she didn’t even know it.

Anger with himself, but mostly with her, for making him wish for something he could never have, roared into his psyche.

A harsh laugh almost escaped from his throat and he shook his head.

She loved him, did she?

He took a step back, and her hands dropped to her sides.

She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes as she watched him.

Khalid could see by the stubborn set of that chin that she was prepared to fight for him, and with him, until he came around to her way of thinking. To persuade him that he was the man she thought he was.

Well, whatever she wanted would never happen.

Time for a wake-up call.

He kept his voice dangerously low. “You think you’ve got me all worked out. Don’t you, darlin’?”

He strolled around her.

She didn’t move so much as a muscle as the atmosphere in the room plummeted and grew too tense.

She turned her head, looking over her shoulder as he stood behind her. Those big blue eyes appeared confused as she frowned.

Then she opened her mouth as if to speak.

Christ, the scent of her made his mouth water.

He bent his head to growl in her ear, “I haven’t finished speaking.”

Her shocked gasp had him nod.

Oh yeah, he knew why he was so stunningly furious with her.

The little fool wanted to change him.

She’d decided to mould him into the man she wanted, rather than accept him for the man he was.

Well, it would be a cold day in hell before that little fantasy happened.

She was trembling.

But she wasn’t afraid of him.

Not yet.

“These clothes make you look about twelve.” His hands gripped the tissue thin silk of her top and ripped it in two. The fabric floated to her feet. “I don’t want a girl as a wife. I want a woman,” he whispered in her ear.

The matching panties went the same way.

Her response was a convulsive shudder, as a tidal wave of goose bumps rose over her clear skin.

Walking slowly around her naked body, Khalid took a good long look at the woman he was going to make his in ways she’d never dreamed of.

And his body went rock hard.

To torture himself even more, he stood behind her and counted each silver scar on her tight little bottom. Twenty-three. And his heart ached as he imagined what she’d gone through. Dear God, how much she had suffered. But she didn’t need his sympathy. No. What she needed was her own… acceptance.

The sly voice, a constant companion who resided deep within his psyche, now rose to whisper the words, ‘You did that.’ And God help him, his hand trembled as he swiped perspiration beading on his top lip.

And then he studied the raw flesh where the bullet had grazed the bottom of her ribcage. The black, purple and green bruise, already turning yellow at the edges, as it stretched up towards her armpit and down in a path of pain to her jutting hipbone.

Again the sly voice taunted, ‘Where were you when she was shot?’ And bile rose into Khalid’s throat. His eyes then counted the bruises on her arm where the nurse had injected her, where the doctor had fought to save her.

Yet again the sing song voice in his head spoke, ‘Love? You don’t know the meaning of the word.’

Now the room spun as his heart rate spiked.

Lastly, he absorbed how terribly thin she’d become, and that voice in head showed no mercy. ‘You did that.’

Khalid’s jaw clenched so hard to stop his moan of pain it was a miracle his teeth didn’t shatter. A slimy worm of sweat slid down his spine.

He stood in front of her, about three feet away.

Her big blue eyes were wary now as they searched his.

He read a cocktail of emotions, including confusion and a growing dismay. But the biggies were arousal and lust.

Oh yeah, Charisse liked this.

She liked being dominated.

Even if, intellectually, she knew she should stand up for herself and calling him to account for his behaviour. Khalid read precisely how she felt by the expressions crossing that fabulous face and by the way her eyes flicked over his body lingering between his legs, and by her body’s response to his tone, to his words.

Her nakedness hid nothing as he studied her with the eyes of the artist, of the connoisseur.

That beautiful face was flushed now.

Those sweet nipples budded so hard they actually pulsed as her breath came out of her throat in hot little bursts. Her heart was beating so fast against her ribs, it reminded him of a tiny trapped bird he’d held in his hands once as a boy. But it was the arousal glistening between her legs that had him nod once in satisfaction.

Well, well, well.

Who’d have thought it?

She pressed her thighs together as the tip of her tongue licked her full bottom lip.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she stood absolutely still under his intense gaze.

Now he narrowed his eyes.

“You need to be taught a lesson. Why do you think I didn’t come to you after the night I broke your hymen, Charisse?” Before she could speak, he interrupted, because he could read her thoughts running across that wonderfully expressive face. “That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. I didn’t come to you again after the night I made you mine. And that annoyed you, frustrated you, and pissed you off. Didn’t it? It didn’t occur to you that I was giving you time to heal, did it? I know exactly what you were thinking, because I know women. And I understand how you tick.

“You were angry because I left you aroused and alone night after night. Weren’t you, my little queen? You were so angry that you kept the truth from me about Omar. You went out into the desert at night. You met with a man without me and without my permission. You kept secrets from me about your childhood, about who you are and what happened to you. And for that you will be punished.

“And I can tell by the look in your eyes that you still do not quite understand what I’m saying. So let me spell it out for you, my little queen. You belong to me. You are mine. When I say jump, you say, How high.”

Her splutter of choked laughter broke the tight chain he’d kept on his self-control.

She found the situation funny, did she?

Not for long.

“Lie on the bed on your stomach. Now,” he ordered.

Temper flared in her eyes, scorched her cheekbones.

It took her a couple of beats, but she lifted her chin and staring straight ahead, walked past him with a sexy sway of her narrow hips. Her scarred bottom, the buttocks high and tight reminded him of a perfectly ripe peach. He caught the floral scent of her shampoo, her skin and her warm, womanly arousal.

She lay on her belly in the middle of the vast bed, her faced turned towards him.

Picking up a small bottle of essential Bergamot oil and a couple of pillows, he knelt on the bed beside her. Big eyes, wary and watchful, flicked between the oil, the pillows, and back to his face.

The way her fabulous brows rose an insolent fraction made his hand itch to warm that pert little bottom.

He enjoyed sex play. And he enjoyed rough sex. But Khalid realised that he could never, ever, physically hurt the woman he loved. There were other ways to show her who was in the driving seat in this relationship.

His body ached so hard for her that the pain of it had him take a deep breath.

He tipped the oil into the palm of his hand, and all the while her small white teeth gripped her full bottom lip. The scent of citrus spun in the air. And he was delighted to see that insolence was now replaced with interest. She didn’t have a clue what was about to happen to her, and he kept his desperate need to take her hard and fast under tight control.

She was so slight and fragile. He counted the bones of her vertebrae, and suppressed a crazy desire to press his mouth to each one from her neck to her tight little backside. But he refused to permit himself to be distracted by what needed to be done here and now.

Later there would be plenty of time to play.

“Lift up your hips.”

She did as he asked and he placed the pillows underneath her pelvis, which elevated her backside to just the right angle.

“You have a hang-up about your scars. Am I right?” He poured more oil into the palm of his hand, and placed the bottle on a bedside table.

Charisse turned her head and gave a low mewl sound in her throat as she watched his hands warm the oil. And she couldn’t look at her scars. He could tell by the way her eyes flinched, by the infinitesimal nod of her lovely head.

Well, he wasn’t having that.

Tonight was going to be a steep learning curve for his stubborn little queen.

“You have a pretty ass,” he growled.

Indeed, it was very pretty. He should know, since he’d seen and painted hundreds.

He continued in a conversational tone, “Now, let me lay out the ground rules. You will tell me if anything hurts. This position should keep pressure off your wound. But if it hurts, you tell me immediately. Say, “‘Yes, Khalid.’”

Heat scorched her neck, her face. And he wasn’t sure if it was temper or mortification. Probably a mixture of both.

“Yes, Khalid.” Her voice was the merest whisper as she closed her eyes.

“Eyes open, Charisse. You’re need to learn how watching me what I do to you will give you pleasure.”

He didn’t give her a chance to prepare or give her a hint of what was coming.

His hand itched to spank her until that tight little bottom glowed.

Lifting his hand to swing, he stopped, and shook his head.

He couldn’t do it.

Not while she was recovering from being shot.

She jerked at the initial touch of his fingertips on her pert bottom. But then he carefully added pressure as he massaged her buttock cheeks with firm fingers, soothing, pressing the oil into the scars which were now bright silver against the glow of her skin.

The low growl deep in his throat brought her shimmering eyes to his.

“The animal who did this to you is a walking dead man,” he swore.

Her voice was the merest whisper, “Why are you doing this?”

“You are not comfortable with your body. The scars shame you. By the time I am finished with you tonight, you won’t care. And you’ll realise that what evil did to you does not define you as a woman.”

The entire time he spoke, his fingertips kept massaging the taut muscles of her bare bottom. He wasn’t gentle. And then he felt her relax as her body pulsed with a different type of tension. Arousal. His thumbs became tender as they stroked down the slippery cleft between her legs, and she trembled.

“On your knees. Use the pillows to cushion your chest,” he said softly.

A tiny sob, quickly swallowed, was the only sound she made as the love of his life did as he asked. Her face had gone radioactive, and his heart nearly broke for her and for everything she’d been through.

His fingers slid over her perineum through the slick flesh of her labia and around the hard swell of her girl boner, ensuring he never once touched the frantic pulse of her clitoris. She would orgasm when he allowed it and not before.

For many minutes he tortured her with pleasure, all the while denying her that ultimate release.

She groaned before turning to look over her shoulder, to watch him stroke and massage her flesh. And she no longer cringed, but her eyes burned with arousal as they stared into his. He took a deep breath of relief at what he saw in those vivid blue depths.





“Put your shoulders on the pillows and turn your face towards me. Does your wound hurt?” All the while his fingers, slick with oil and her juices, explored the slick heat between her buttocks.

“No,” she breathed the word.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he told her in a soft voice. Her full bottom lip trembled in a way that made him feel like a complete bastard. “I’m going to make you come now, darlin’.”

Charisse couldn’t believe what was happening to her body.

“Oh, God.”

Khalid’s fingertips never stopped their firm rhythm as they pressed relentlessly into the muscles of her buttocks, circling in a hypnotic way that made her want to close her eyes and simply feel. The merciless pressure of arousal deep in her womb was a combination of pleasure and pain. With every inhale the scent of his body, clean and healthy and male, and mingling with the citrus scent of the oil, only added to the pleasure.

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

Her nipples were throbbing, so screamingly sensitive, and yet he hadn’t touched them. Her body was so aroused that she knew as soon as he touched the slick flesh of her secret places she would orgasm. The man knew exactly how to warm her bottom without hurting the too tight flesh. Yes, she’d nearly wept in stunned mortification to have herself exposed to him like this. She felt too vulnerable. But just enjoying the sensations of his touch made her womb clench and release a fluid that made her moan long and loud.

Khalid gave a deep laugh that made her make the sound again.

How on earth did he do that to her?

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered softly. “Just let yourself go.”

His thumbs gently slid between the lips of her swollen flesh and shamelessly she opened her legs wider to give him better access to the spot that throbbed and swelled for his attention. His thumb snaked around the hood of that screaming little bead and she shuddered as every single muscle from her toes to her scalp spasmed.

Just that touch triggered the most intense orgasm of her life.

Charisse buried her face in the pillow and screamed so long and so loud that it echoed through the high ceiling carved out of sheer rock.

Khalid lifted her in his strong arms.

He sat on the edge of the bed and held her tight.

Her body was still shuddering with aftershocks.

She held on tight to him and wept into his naked chest.

The self-loathing she’d clung to and how she’d never been able to look at her scars without feeling physically ill, along with the ultimate betrayal by the person who’d brought her into this world, a person who was supposed to protect her, all those complex emotions exploded through her system and threatened to devour her very soul.

She wept for the girl she’d been before death had robbed her of her sister, of her mother.

She wept for the broken girl who had arrived in Onuur.

And God knew she wept for the woman she’d need to become for the husband she loved with all her heart.

All Charisse could do was to hang onto the man who’d forced her to confront and accept the physical consequences of the darkest time in her life.

She had no idea how long she wept.

It could have been minutes or hours, but when she raised her head to look at the man who’d refused to let her hide from her demons and still held her tight, the expression of self-loathing on his fabulous face nearly stopped her heart.

With unsteady fingers, she swiped the tears from her face.

“Khalid. Look at me.”

He did and she’d never seen eyes so bleak as they stared into hers.

“Do you see what kind of man I am? Even though you’re sore and still healing I can’t keep my hands off you. Do you know what I want to do to you? I want to ride you hard, and ride you fast. This is why I didn’t come near you.” He pulled her into his body, rested his cheek on top of her head. “I can’t trust myself around you.”

His voice shook with something like desperation as he rubbed his cheek on her hair. His erection, rock hard, dug into her hip. And even though she’d had an amazing orgasm, her body still ached from a lack of completion she now knew only he could give her.

“I want you. I need you inside me,” she whispered.

His big body shuddered as he inhaled the scent of her hair. “It’s too soon. I’ll hurt you.”

And Charisse knew she had to find the courage to do what must be done.

With a shaky breath she rose to her feet to walk with a sinuous swing of her hips to a low backed couch.

As she bent over the wide arms of the couch, she heard him groan.

Praying to God that her voice didn’t wobble, she looked at him over her shoulder.

“Khalid. Do your husbandly duty.”

Husbandly duty?

For a stupefied moment, Khalid could do nothing but stare at her.

What had happened to the sobbing woman in his arms?

Hadn’t he opened her eyes to the kind of man he was?

But no, yet again she had taken control.

The little witch.

Then the naughty girl wiggled her bare bottom, rolling her hips in a way that electrified his groin. Even more blood surged between his legs, tightening his boys so hard he thought he was going to disgrace himself.

Perhaps he could do this?

Perhaps he could take her from behind, taking care not to thrust too deep?

He stood and moved to stand between her spread legs.

Bending over her, his arousal pressed between the cheeks of her buttocks.

Taking the long plait of silver hair in one hand, he wrapped it around his wrist.

Gently bringing her head up, he brought his mouth to her ear and immediately the scent of her had him close his eyes tight.

She smelled fabulous.

“Husbandly duty?” he purred.

His erection nudged the slick heat between her legs.

“Yes! I want your child in my belly, my husband,” she whimpered.

Her words made something in his chest squeeze tight. They almost unmanned him as he found her hot, wet, entrance and slid inside, inch by inch.

She gasped, and turned her head inviting him to take her mouth.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. His mouth, and tongue, and teeth erotically plundered hers, and she gave as good as she got. And he shuddered. She was so unbelievably tight, so hot.

“Am I hurting you?” he panted, fighting a war of attrition to stay absolutely still.

“No,” she gasped again and tried to push her bottom back against him.

He kept a firm grip of her hip to hold her firm. Then bending his knees, he pushed his pelvis forward and back, forward and back, until he went further, deeper, and he hit the sweet spot deep in her channel. She screamed with pleasure as she tried to arch her back but his grip held her fast.

“More, harder,” she cried.

But Khalid gritted his teeth. He dare not let himself go. In his determination not to hurt her his big body tremored. Her body was pulsing, fisting around him to squeeze so hard he sobbed out a breath. He’d never, ever, felt anything like it. Through a brute force of will, he kept the pace slow and steady. It nearly killed him. Hard sobs broke from his throat with every single shuddering thrust of his hips. And Charisse was in just as bad a state. A part of his brain registered the amazing fact that their breathing had synchronised.

The abrupt clench of her core muscles contracted around him so strongly his eyes crossed. And an orgasm so deep, so powerful had her catch her breath before she came apart with a wail that triggered his own release. His own orgasm had him roar like a bull as his boys tightened too fast and her body gripped him even tighter drawing him further into her slick heat to milk him until he had nothing, nothing, left to give.

How the hell he lifted her and carried her to their bed he never knew because his legs were boneless.

He was shivering, as if gripped by fever.

Laying her carefully on her uninjured side, he stroked a trembling hand gently down her hip before tucking his arm under her breasts and holding her close, spooned against him.

Pulling the comforter over them, he inhaled the scent of her hair, of her warm, sexy body, of Charisse.

Emotions, too many to deal with, stung his eyes, burned the back of his throat.

Christ, he found it hard to think, hard to speak.

He cleared his throat. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

Alarmed, at first he thought she was crying, then he sighed in relief when he realised she was laughing. “It’s been a big day. I drank champagne. You carried me in your arms. A nurse tried to kill me. I got married. Flew in a spooky helicopter to James Bond’s holiday home. You gave me a massage. And if I’m not pregnant with triplets after that it will be a miracle.”

A huge wave of emotions battered him again.

But as he inhaled the scent of his woman, Khalid knew he must be nothing less than honest with her. “I am not an easy man to live with,” he admitted in a gruff voice.

She wiggled her bare bottom against his groin in a way that made him groan.

Then she gave a tired but happy little sigh to settle snugly in his arms.

“It’s been a breeze so far.”



Copyright © C C MacKenzie 2014



I’d forgotten how much fun, in spite of everything life had thrown at her, Charrise could be!

Tomorrow, Chapter Sixteen……

Christine X

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