Adored in Oman (Book 2 in Teach Me, Love Me Series): Interracial Romance (10 page)

Katy stood in her kitchen undecided. Should she have Shan call her while she is on her little holiday? Or, should she wait until she returned to Muscat and resumed work? It seemed to give the information more weight than it really warranted to have her make a rushed call home just to hear this. Shan kept in touch very regularly when she traveled. She would wait on her to call. Then, she would share. No need to ruin a perfectly good holiday.

Little Miss Carmen better tread lightly. The last time she had hurt her baby, Katy had stayed out of the children’s business. It had been HARD. Still, she stayed out of it. This, however, was something totally different. If this young woman thought she was going to sail back into Shan’s peaceful life and raise a storm; she was in for a very big surprise.

Katy was all about being prepared, though. So, she started making phone calls to the Society of Old Ladies. Young people often forget old ladies were once young. Aging does not render you powerless or entirely forgetful. It was time to set some traps.

Carmen sat at her mirror, looking at herself. Her hair was flawless, courtesy of her talented stylist. Her face was unlined, thanks to Botox. Her figure was perfectly maintained, toned, and thin; she had the best boobs money could buy. She had undergone a couple of rather painful surgeries to get just the look she wanted. Never really understanding what drove her to pursue perfection to this extent, she was very pleased with the results. She was beautiful. Gorgeous, even.

She had paid back every one who had ever hurt her, with these looks. All the boys who teased her and called her bean pole and Miss Noassatall. All the girls who mocked her short hair, kept that way because her father raised her and had no idea what to do with it, so she rocked a mini afro until high school. It hadn’t mattered until then. He finally relented and allowed her to see a stylist when he came home to her unrestrained tears due to the merciless teasing.

She had humbled them all. She had broken a dozen marriages. She had estranged twelve different men from something around thirty-six children. She had been attacked by angry wives twice and had immensely enjoyed filing charges against them and tearfully pleading her ignorance about the men being married. She had wrecked three small businesses because they were run by a husband and wife team. A church had first fired the pastor she had seduced, and then disbanded because finding another pastor had been difficult. They were small, but had offered a food pantry in their little community. Forty households could no longer visit that little house of faith to supplement their food stores.

Still, her rage was not satisfied. She had seen the wreckage of the lives she had intentionally invaded. They had all been left in terrible situations and she always left laughing. All, but one. Somehow, the one woman she hated the most, the one who had triggered her rage filled destruction had escaped. At first, she thought it was because she was new to the game of seek and destroy. Then, she thought it was because the couple was so young they hadn’t had time to accumulate much, such as children and debt.

She had learned to seek out men with children and financial responsibilities so she could do the maximum damage. Young couples were a waste of time. She needed men with time in whose wives would be more willing to put up a fight. Still, it wasn’t until about two years (and three destroyed marriages) later that she realized why that first one was so unsatisfying. It was because Shan never acknowledged her. Shan never even spoke to her or about her. She didn’t go into a rage to find her in the marital bed. She had not named her in the divorce petition.

She had looked at Carmen like trash and completely divorced herself from the situation. Literally. Jack had even said he had never seen or spoken to her again. By the time Carmen went to work, Shan had quit and gathered her belongings. So, she never got to pass her in the hallway and look at her with a self-satisfied smirk. To never be able to parade before her, triumphant; had completely taken the fun out of the punishment.

Originally, Carmen had chosen to attack Shan because when Jack was a boy he had been part of the pack of bullies who made her life miserable. It had immediately become more about Shan, though. How dare she be so happy and content with someone who made her so unhappy? How dare she walk around looking satisfied? She would snatch that sense of peace away and then smile when she did. Jack deserved to miss out on that and Shan did too, for choosing him. Assholes and their enablers should all be miserable. She was going to find Shan. Then, she was going to snatch whatever man she had found and force her to acknowledge her.

Looking at herself in the mirror, intoxicated by her own beauty, Carmen failed to see the ugliness that was all over her. Her sneering mouth was topped by cold eyes. Her lips were tight and pulled permanently down, for lack of satisfaction. Her neck was forever tilted, as if she smelled something bad, keeping her nose in the air and giving her a general look of haughtiness. A mean spirit can be hidden for only so long. Her crusade may have begun as a way to punish her former tormentors, but destruction of others’ lives had become a habit. She was long past being sympathetic.

Abdulla was taking Shan back to her hotel. They had spent a pleasant evening with his extended family. She had met her friend Lari’s in-laws, eaten plenty of great food, had her hands and feet hennaed and was surprised at how easy communication had been. She had been surrounded by a hum of languages all night. Arabic and English songs and conversations had been the soundtrack of the gathering. They were making plans to walk up the local mountain, Jebel Hafeet, tomorrow morning.

“How serious will this mountain climb, be?” Shan asked.

“There is a paved road way and lots of observation points all the way up. It is pretty steep, but not an impossible walk,” Abdulla explained.

“Will my tennis shoes be sufficient?” Shan asked.

“Absolutely! Just bring water and a light snack in case you feel light headed. We will go early, before the sun gets too hot,” Abdulla said.

“Great! Are you coming to my room?” Shan asked as the valet attendant moved toward her door.

“Of course, but first I will go to the lounge and sit for a bit, give you time to get inside so we will not to be too much of a spectacle,” he explained.

“Good plan, see you in a bit,” she said as she stepped out of the car.

Abdulla accepted the ticket from the attendant and headed inside for the bar area where he ordered a fresh fruit juice. Thirty minutes later, he paid and made his way to Shan’s room; looking at his phone to be sure he remembered the correct room number.

While Abdulla was sipping his fruit juice, Shan was looking around the room with a great deal of delight. Abood had ordered three beautiful bouquets of flowers. One was sitting on the table in the living area. It was an explosion of orange, yellow, and white flowers that she had never seen. She had no idea what they were, but they were the cherry on top of her fun night. The other was in the bathroom and was a lovely braid of roses in a tall thin vase. The final bouquet was on the table in front of the window overlooking the gulf; it was a small flowering plant. She knew immediately it would thrive in her little apartment in Muscat. The leaves were pointing up and their undersides were purple.

She took a shower and was massaging in shea butter when she heard a low knock on her door. She let Abdulla in and had no sooner closed the door than he grabbed her and brought her in for a toe curling, tummy tingling kiss.

“Wow!” she said. “What was that for?”

“Looking sweet and smelling like roses,” Abdulla replied.

“Thank you for my flowers, they are absolutely breathtaking. I can’t wait to see them when there is sunlight flooding the room. It smells divine in here,” Shan enthused.

“You feel divine,” Abdulla said as he ran his hands up and down her arms and across her shoulders. He leaned in to smell her neck and ran his hands up her thighs, pulling her nightdress up and squeezing her bottom.

“That does too,” she whispered as she stood on her toes for a kiss.

Right then all talking stopped. They had been together, but separated for much of the evening. Each group had been in its own little corner of the house after everyone ate. The men had retired to smoke some shisha, talk politics, women and money while the ladies were talking politics, charity, children, fashion, makeup and men. So, while they had eaten together and been in the same place, they had definitely missed each other. Abood was not in a position to stay over for breakfast, but he was going to make good use of his time and this hotel room and stay late as he possibly could. He was definitely staying until he put Shan to sleep.

With a light laugh, Shan said, “Let’s get from in front of the window, the lamps are still lit.”

Abood immediately pressed the command on the wall mounted pad that read Lights OFF. The hotel room was plunged into immediate darkness, with only the twinkling outdoor lights of the resort to light the room. Abdulla ran his hands up Shan’s body and in one quick pull had removed and tossed her satin nightshirt to the side.

Turning her toward the rear bedroom, he smacked her bottom and said, “After you.”

With a toss of her locs, she sashayed herself to the bedroom and laid herself down on the bed. With a slow, wicked wink, she gave Abood one command, “Strip.”

He chuckled, but did as she asked. Slowly. First, the watch. So he wouldn’t scratch that perfect, lovely skin. Then, he unbuttoned and discarded his shirt and slacks. Every bit of exposed skin made Shan wetter, and more excited. A few second later they were both in their skin, exploring. Shoulder kisses and neck bites were followed by full body hugs and deep kissing.

Shan was feeling fine. There was nothing like a man in the bed to make a woman feel good. She loved the way his hairy chest rubbed against hers and the way he sucked her nipples, gently. She loved wrapping her legs around his body and arching up into his strength.

Abood was touching all her erogenous zones. He kissed behind her knees, inside her thigh and her rib cage. He spent uncounted minutes manipulating her clit with his tongue and holding her firmly so she couldn’t wiggle away from the erotic torture. His tongue on her clit and two fingers in her valley, curved up to massage her g-spot had her screaming behind a pillow. He paid attention to her spine and kissed his way to the curve of her butt. She shivered every time his lips landed.

She was so wet and ready for him that when he mounted and penetrated her body she just sighed. The ride was long and slow, they were in no hurry. After minutes of feeling him do a slow, deep stir of her garden, she couldn’t take it and started trembling and rolled him so she could look at him. Rising and falling as she looked down at his handsome face, she smiled and squeezed her inner muscles. She watched him clench his jaw and felt him raise his hips off the bed.

Moments later, she spun around, leaned forward and sent him into overdrive with her round butt dropping and shaking with authority. She was holding his shins and fast sliding up and down while looking over her shoulder.

Abood was holding on to her bottom and counting to fifty in all the languages he knew. He was trying to keep from arriving too early. He knew Shan was completely aware of how she was driving him crazy with that fast, wet ride and that look of womanly power on her face. Moving to his knees he got a firm grip on her hip with one hand and pulling her locs with the other he started a deep stroke that had her “Oo, oo, OO-ing” and “Oh, Oh, OH-ing.”

When neither of them could take anymore and were signifying and shouting out their completion, they exploded over the finish line and collapsed in a trembling, wet heap. Shan fell asleep right there. Once again, feeling pleased with himself, Abdulla resisted the urge to pat himself on the back. Mission accomplished. About an hour later, Abood kissed her shoulder and told her to come put the chain on the door. As she sleep walked him to the door, he leaned down for a kiss.

“I hate you have to go,” she grumbled.

“I hate I have to go,” he said.

What followed was a tongue sucking, lip biting kiss that woke Shan all the way up and led to a brief, but thorough wall quickie.

Moans of “Baby, please,” drifted across the entryway as Shan leaned against the wall on her forearms and Abdulla pumped her from behind with two hands on her shoulders and his pants at his ankles. Her entire garden was on fire, nerve endings twitching, walls pulsing, and flooding Abood’s invader with wet heat. It was too much. She finished in record time with an unladylike shout and Abood groaned like he had hurt himself.

He pulled up his pants and grinned at her, “I didn’t take off my watch this time.”

“Your pants, either,” she said. This time, the good night kiss did end with a chained door and a very sleepy Shan heading back to bed.

Abood was so tired he almost fell asleep on the way back to his uncle’s villa. He should have taken a driver, but he was trying to show some discretion. They both slept very deeply.

The next morning, Shan rose early and went to the fitness center. She had a brisk walk and then sat in the steam room for fifteen minutes. When she made it back to her room, she had messages from Abood. Grinning like a teenager, she read them.

Abood:
Good morning, we all slept late. We will wait until late evening to walk the mountain. The staff is going to prepare a late lunch and then we will all go together.
7:30 am

Abood:
The children will only walk half the trail. Mo and Lari will join us for dinner at your hotel after the walk.
7:32 am

Shan:
Good morning! Sounds fun! I’m just back from gym and about to shower and then breakfast. Are we going somewhere today or will I see you just this evening?
7:45 am

Shan went on to have her shower, because she was starving. She would see his response when she was dressed and headed to breakfast.

Fresh and clean, Shan picked up her phone and headed for the door. She was ready to eat! Tapping her phone to read Abdulla’s reply, she saw:

             
Abood:
Open your door.
8:13 am

Grinning, she practically skipped to the door.

Abdulla was leaning on the wall scanning through his phone when she opened the door.

“You look like sunshine,” were his first words.

“It’s this yellow dress, I wear it when I’m happy,” she said and gave him a little twirl.

Grabbing her hand and kissing both cheeks, he said, “It’s not the dress.”

“Now, let’s get you fed,” he said as he led the way to the dining area. “I can’t believe you got up and went to the gym. You make me feel lazy.”

“I slept so good, that when I woke up, I was full of energy but I didn’t want to go to the pool so early. I went and had a walk and sat in the steam room. I love that steam room. I wish I had one at home,” Shan said.

“I also like steam. It is good for the skin and lungs,” Abdulla agreed.

“So, what is the plan for the day? Are you going to recline about the pool with me? Or should I dress to be out and about?” Shan asked again.

“It depends. What do you want to do? We can go to the Sheikh Zayed Museum or the Al Ain Oasis if you don’t mind being outside. Or we can sit here at the pool,” he said.

“How about the museum? Everyone I have ever met from the Emirates loves Sheikh Zayed deeply. I would love to learn more about him,” was Shan’s immediate reply.

“Yes, they do. He loved them. People don’t forget being loved and they miss it when it is gone. When he died it seemed the whole country lost its smile,” Abdulla said.

By now, they had reached the breakfast buffet. It was a great spread. There were multiple choices from traditional Arabic breakfast, to Indian, American and English selections. Every type of cheese and deli meat with a vast array of breads, including waffles and pancakes on demand were arranged at the start of the spread. It continued in a U-shape with chicken sausages, veal and beef bacon, grilled lamb, sautéed mushrooms, baked tomatoes, beans, porridge, muttabeh, foul medames with chickpeas and tomato, shakshouka with tomato, eggs of every style on demand, and ended with a large selection of greens and fresh fruit.

Shan was not a shy eater. She tried everything but the bacon. It was not cooked quite enough for her preference. As soon as they were seated, a staff member appeared and offered them coffee, cappuccino, espresso, tea or water. Shan went with sparkling water with an orange slice. Abdulla had Moroccan tea.

“You like your tea strong, I see,” Shan teased.

“Just the way you like me,” Abdulla teased back.

“Oh, you are definitely that. I had to walk it off this morning,” she said.

Pausing, he asked, “I hurt you?”

“In the best way possible,” she said. “Hurt is really the wrong word, I just feel a little achy. I haven’t seen this much action in years.”

Laughing, he said, “Me either! At first I was too busy grieving, and then I was just too busy. Once you have the whole package, you just don’t want the other. I am glad I married young. My father told me some men seek satisfaction in many women, but quantity is no substitute for quality.”

“There were a few ladies I thought of pursuing, but I just didn’t have the energy. When I finally started looking around, there you were, telling me no,” he said.

“You clearly weren’t listening, because here we are, at our first morning after breakfast,” Shan said.

“You are right, I knew you would be worth the trouble,” he said with a wink.

Smiling, they continued their breakfast talking of various subjects, always very aware of the other.

Shan looked at his eyelashes, long and thick, thinking women all over the world are paying for that. She loved his lips and teeth. He had the best smile. His beard was like a soft frame for his smile. He chewed with his mouth closed. Thank God for that! She could not eat with people who chewed with their mouths open. This man was appealing to her on almost every level. She liked the way he chewed. She was gone; she knew it and was becoming more comfortable with the notion.

Abdulla looked at her, sitting over there comfortable as she could be in that silky brown skin, locs trailing over her shoulders, bright eyes so intelligent and beautiful, sitting straight up with one hand in her lap, every move graceful. He loved how she could be so still and project serenity when they were together. She never seemed to be in a rush to get from one place to the next and she was always in the moment. He never had to compete with her phone for attention.

He had once asked her why she ate with one hand in her lap and her only response had been, “I’m a lady.”

She was. His lady. Now, he just had to convince her to occupy that position permanently.