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White locks, p.9

White Locks, page 9


White Locks

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  “Oh. Okay. Would you like to set up an appointment with a gynecologist? I can recommend one or two,” Mazen said, blank expression still on. Now I could understand why he’d put on that mask on the first place.

  “Um … no, it won’t be necessary. Why do you think I need birth control?” I asked in confusion, and for a second – Mazen appeared confused as well, nervous even.

  “We’re – uh, we’re going to get married very soon and, uh … we’re – you know…I mean, if you want to…”

  I bit my bottom lip again, but this time it was to hold in my laughter, finding a nervous Mazen to be very adorable and just plain cute. I couldn’t just sit there and watch him be that uncomfortable, I had to interrupt him, “I know we’re going to ‘you know.’ “ I made air quotes to which he smiled shyly, narrowing his eyes playfully, “But I don’t need birth control – not now, anyway.”

  “But, princess,” Mazen started, “That means that you could get pre–”

  “Of course I know what that means,” I interrupted him yet again, “And I want it.”

  Mazen’s eyes shot up to his hairline in shock, seemingly in disbelief. “Oh,” was all he said before he got lost in his thoughts.

  I couldn’t help my smile as I moved even closer to him and held his hand in mine. “I want to have kids. With you,” I told him, the smile not leaving my lips.

  Mazen’s face broke into a wide smile and he brought our hands up to his lips to kiss the back of my hand. “This makes me happier than you can imagine, Princess,” he said. I squeezed his hand in response, but after a short pause, he cleared his throat and started speaking again. “But I don’t want you to do that for my sake – it’s not fair.”

  I frowned. I knew that Mazen needed an heir as soon as possible, but that wasn’t the reason why I wanted to have kids, and I told him just that.

  “It’s not like that, Mazen. I’ve always wanted to have a family, always wanted to have kids. I’ve got to admit that I didn’t expect it to be so soon, but I wanted them with a husband who I love more than anything in the whole world. And that’s you, Mazen. I love you, and I can’t wait to start a family. With you.” My voice was dripping with honesty.

  “Oh, Marie,” Mazen sighed, kissing my hand once again. “I keep thanking God for gifting me with you, and I don’t think I will ever stop.”

  I grinned, “Same here.”

  “I want the same, I want to start a family of my own, but I know that your culture is different from mine, so I had my doubts that you’d want the same thing I do,” he explained. I was sure by now that he’d put his mask on so I wouldn’t be able to tell what he wanted. He wanted me to state my own opinion, not based on his needs. Could he be any sweeter?

  “I know. But don’t forget that I’m Catholic. I wouldn’t use any birth control anyway unless it was for making a space between kids, or because pregnancy would affect my health somehow,” I said.

  “I see,” he smiled, “And how many kids do you want?”

  I had to chuckle and shake my head at his playfulness. “As many as we can afford to give the best life to.”

  Mazen leaned in and kissed me chastely on the lips. “That’s a lot of kids, Princess.” He grinned.

  “I know. Do you want fewer?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “No, no. I want as many kids as God will grant us with,” he said, his lips still so close to mine. “Plus, I’ve heard that it’s really fun to make babies.” And suddenly I was on my back as he attacked my neck with kisses where he knew I was ticklish, at the same time as his hand tickled my sides.

  I was laughing hard and begging him to stop while I actually didn’t want him to, thinking of how I really couldn’t wait to know how fun it would be to make those babies of ours.

  Before I knew it, it was my wedding day. I was in a simple white dress that was exactly what I’d wanted my wedding dress to be. My best friend and assistant – Terri – was with me and had helped me as much as she could with preparations. She came all the way from the States to join me on my big day. Being my best friend, she didn’t ask many questions after I told her enough about everything that had happened to me in the kingdom. She was exactly who I wanted by my side as I married the love of my life.

  There were only four people in our wedding party, including Mazen and me. Terri was my bridesmaid, and Fawaz was his best-man. I’d always wanted a small wedding, my groom, myself and only six guests. But I guess you can’t get everything you wish for, right? It wasn’t a big deal, though; I was marrying the man I loved more than life, and that was the only important thing.

  The walk to the altar that Mazen had insisted on building just for me was short but memorable. It still left a heavy ache in my heart to be walking it alone. I’d always dreamt of my father, or at least my brother walking me to my groom – giving me away. That was another thing that I couldn’t have, but decided not to dwell on. I was supposed to be happy, and only happy on this day, and I was going to be. Today, and hopefully the days to come – for the rest of our lives.

  What I couldn’t get out of my mind, though, was the fact that it wasn’t a priest who was marrying us – it was a Sheikh. I tried my best not to think so much about it, but how could I help it? It was near impossible. It wasn’t just another detail to complete the wedding day, and it wasn’t something like the color of flowers or how high my shoes should be. It was very, very important to me; it was my faith and what I’d believed in my whole life, and not being able to get married in a Catholic Church wasn’t that easy to accept.

  But I let it go.

  Not because I’d stopped thinking about it, but because I knew that there was nothing else we could do. If there was, I knew that Mazen wouldn’t hesitate in finding it and getting it done.

  By the end of my walk to the altar, my eyes were locked tightly with the green ones of the man who’d captured my heart with his wisdom and kindness, more than he had with his captivating looks and his charming self.

  The promise that he held in his eyes – which I could hear loudly in my ears without his mouth speaking it – was enough to remove any doubt from my heart that I was doing the right thing, given the fact that I’d let go of something as important as marrying as a devoted Catholic would.

  Sitting by a round table near the end of the altar, the Sheikh asked us pretty much the same things a priest would in a Christian wedding ceremony. The difference was that there was a lot to ask Mazen to promise about protecting me and treating me with care, more than I was asked to do for him, which was actually a nice thing to hear.

  When I said ‘I do’ my heart was so filled with happiness that there was no place in it for sadness or heartache. Everything in my eyes was just so wonderful – even better than my dreams.

  The emotions inside me were almost enough to get me high. No, not almost, I was high on joy and … love.

  This time, we didn’t sign any papers, which Mazen had already explained to me. I was actually surprised that I hadn’t figured it out on my own before, and instead needed him to explain it so I could understand how things worked.

  We were already married in the eyes of law, given the contracts that I’d signed on that day in the kingdom, but because I was forced back then it was not considered to be a truthful contract in the eyes of God.

  Mazen had explained to me how important it was for both of us to accept marrying each other, to have witnesses, to promise to take care of each other in sickness and in health, to respect each other and to never deceive one another. And that was what today’s ceremony about. The legal papers were the same since we’d never gone through a divorce beyond the two words he’d said to me.

  I remembered asking Mazen about how it was so easy to get a divorce in an Islamic culture, and he’d replied, “It wasn’t slightly easy on me, Princess.”

  “I know,” I smiled. “I meant in general, you just say two words and that’s it?”

  “Well, it’s pretty complicated, and about the two words, don’t forget t
hat when you get married you say only two words, as well. It’s all about what’s in your heart and what you promise in front of God. Papers are to satisfy legal matters, not spiritual, and it takes months to get that done in Arabian countries, just like any other place.”

  “Huh,” I said. “How complicated?”

  “Let’s see, you have three months and ten days after saying the two words to work things out, and you won’t need a new marriage contract then, up to two times. The third is final, unless the wife marries another guy and they divorce or he dies, then they can get married again if they want to.”

  “Wow! That’s complicated.” I said, earning myself a sweet smile from him.

  At the end of the ceremony, Mazen took my hand and led the way to yet another altar. I was confused for a few seconds until my confusion was replaced by shock. At the end of the altar stood a bishop in all of his glory. I was so freaking surprised that I literally stopped in my tracks and gasped.

  “He’s here to bless our marriage,” Mazen said with a soft smile. I could see the unsure look in his eyes, as if he was afraid he’d done something wrong. “It’s the best I could do.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said in a rush, ending his suffering. “Thank you so much,” I thanked him as a tear slipped down my cheek. A happy tear.

  The bishop asked me the questions I knew he would ask, and I replied honestly, then he asked Mazen if he would promise to never force his faith on me. Mazen replied with a, “Yes, sir.”

  The third time is the charm they say, and it was with the bishop that I said my third ‘I do’ to marrying Mazen. He then blessed our marriage and I couldn’t have been happier. Everything was just plain perfect.

  Mazen’s bedroom –the main bedroom in the mansion – now became our bedroom. Once we stepped inside and Mazen locked the door behind us, I couldn’t help how nervous I suddenly became.

  He’d wanted to take me to Paris for our honeymoon, but I didn’t feel like we needed to. We’d already been living the best honeymoon since I came from the States, and all that mattered was being with him, so I didn’t see the need to go to another country for a week or two.

  After all, it was only Mazen’s closeness that I wanted the most. It didn’t matter where we were as long as we were together – same room, if possible. He was all I needed.

  Plus, I knew if I went to Paris, I’d have to visit the branch we have there, and I would be buried with the amount of work that would surely be offered to me, and I didn’t want that.

  I smiled nervously when Mazen offered me his hand. When I took it, he pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly. He sighed into my hair, “Finally!” and I had to smile at the relief that was mixed with all of the nice emotions of love and care in his voice.

  “Finally,” I replied with a sigh of my own into his shoulder, hugging him just as tightly if not even more. He had to know that I’d wanted this for a long time, and that I’d wanted to be with him forever even before I knew it myself. I loved him, so much, and I was willing to show him in every possible way how much he really meant to me.

  We kissed sweetly, tenderly. But what was sweet and tender quickly turned to one of those hungry and wild kisses where hands would be everywhere all at once and tongues fought for dominance. We kissed until we were out of breath, with flushed cheeks and lips that were the darkest shade of pink, lips that smiled in shyness and fingertips that shook with the sweetness of touching one another.

  I wanted a moment to collect myself and I started to take a step away from him – I was a mess. But, oh, what a mess it was! Mazen caught my hand and stopped me.

  “We don’t have to do anything tonight, you know that, right?” he said.

  I wasn’t having any of that. “I know, but I want to,” I said boldly. My eyes were playful and with a bite to my bottom lip and a smirk, I let go of his hand and walked to the dresser, leaving him with a shocked expression at my words.

  Standing in front of the big round mirror, I started taking off my jewelry. Mazen then came to help, unlocking the clasp on my necklace while I took off my earrings. When his hand came to the middle of my back where the zipper of the dress started, I stopped breathing.

  His eyes were locked with mine in the mirror as he stood behind me, but not really touching me, The look of hunger in his eyes said everything, those same eyes that were silently asking my permission to continue unzipping the dress.

  With a lazy blink of my eyes he got his ‘yes’ and slowly he drew the zipper down until the end. My dress fell to my feet, leaving me only in my white strapless bra and thong.

  His lips were on that spot behind my ear, then he left wet kisses up and down along my neck, driving me crazy with lust. Once I felt his erection pressing on my lower back – I knew I was a goner.

  Mazen’s hands were on my hips, then they were on my sides, then back on my hips– they felt like they were everywhere. I was trying my hardest not to sound so needy with all of the moans I wanted to let out, but when his hand softly kneaded my backside, I couldn’t help but moan loudly and ask for more.

  Mazen’s hand returned to the middle of my back, but this time it was to unhook my bra, removing it and leaving me topless in front of him, wearing nothing but my sorry excuse for panties.

  Something about watching what he was doing to me in the mirror was just so erotic that my blush was burning my cheeks, but it wasn’t only my cheeks that were burning. His touch felt as if it set every inch of my skin in flames from its hotness. Suddenly, it was all too much, and I had to cover my breasts with my arms.

  “Don’t,” he breathed into my ear, his breath all hot and his voice all gruff, “Don’t hide from me, beautiful princess.”

  He gently pried my arms away, and covered my breasts with his hands. Trapped in his hands, he started to squeeze and press with enough pressure to drive me wild with lust.

  His fingertips captured my nipples and he pinched them. “Oh, God!” I gasped loudly, earning myself a groan from him, and another grind of his hardness into my lower back.

  “You feel so good, Marie,” he whispered, “So good.” His hands were fondling my breasts so heavily that my knees buckled and I could no longer carry my weight properly; my legs had turned into jelly.

  His hands left me just for a second to shrug the jacket of his tux away, and then they were back on my skin, touching, gripping, squeezing and pinching. His eyes were giving me lustful looks through our reflections in the mirror. They were enough to get me dizzy; I had to throw my head back onto his shoulder and Mazen had to tighten his grip on my body to keep me from falling.

  Suddenly, Mazen’s hands turned me around and lifted me off the floor. He carried me to what had now become our bed. I warped my legs around him all the way to our destination, enjoying the feel of his erection right on my center. And from the sound of his groan, he was enjoying it as well.

  Mazen laid me on my back softly, and I started unbuttoning his dress shirt, his hands helping me getting rid of it even faster. When he was shirtless in front of me, I all but moaned at the sight, all tight muscles and well-defined abs.

  I licked my lips and Mazen’s reaction was to kiss those lips hungrily, as if the motion had turned him on even more. He then started placing soft kisses all over my chest, making me moan wildly when he caught my left nipple with his mouth.

  “Oh, Mazen,” I breathed, begging him silently with my moans to do even more, urging him with my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to suck even more on my tender nipple.

  He didn’t disappoint.

  I don’t know how long his assault lasted, but I know that by the time he was done with my breasts I was nothing but a limp noodle in his hands.

  Mazen wasn’t nearly finished with me. He hooked his pointer fingers on both sides of my thong, pausing for a second to ask my permission to take it off.

  “Is this okay, princess?”

  With a shy smile, I nodded. I was actually embarrassed by how wet I was.

  Mazen covered my s
ex with wet kisses, and through the rush of lust I felt, I didn’t feel anymore shyness or anything like that. I was in heaven.

  “Mazen!” I gasped as I felt the tip his tongue over my clit, licking me just the right way, in all of the right places, holding my legs apart as I was unconsciously closing them on his head. Maybe I wanted to keep him there in place, afraid that he would let go.

  He stayed where he was, licking and sucking my sensitive flesh for God only knows how long. By the time he gently inserted one of his fingers inside of me, I screamed loudly at the sudden feeling.

  He stopped immediately, maybe thinking he had hurt me. But I couldn’t bear not having his tongue working me again.

  “Please, please, please!” I begged, and it was all he needed.

  His teeth scraped over my clit while his finger worked in and out, touching a certain spot inside of me that had me writhing. When he slowly added a second finger it was my undoing.

  I came loudly, screaming his name and pulling on his hair as I pushed my hips forward, wanting even more from him.

  It was like I passed out for a moment or two from the power of my orgasm, because the next thing I knew was the feeling of him as he started to push himself slowly inside of me.

  With each slow push, I felt some pain, and when he reached my barrier, he paused, looked at me, and with a nod, I encouraged him to go on. With one deliberate push, he took what I so willingly gave him. I couldn’t help but wince at the pinching feeling that though not extremely agonizing, still didn’t feel like a piece of cake.

  It was painful, but when he stopped and asked, “Are you okay, Marie?” I nodded and told him to, “Go on.”

  Mazen kept looking at me to make sure I was okay before he slowly, but surely made his way inside of me. I gasped at the feeling of him filling me this way.

  With every moan of discomfort I let out, he hushed me with sweet kisses and tender touches over my hair, and he didn’t start moving until I told him to do so.

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