Page 43 of Forty Days and One Knight
“Please, Darius! Oh my God, please!”
At the same time, he pinched her nipple and pressed hard on her clit. When he saw she was going over, his hand left her breast and clasped the back of her neck. He quickly sat up, keeping his thumb moving, and pulled her to him, his mouth sealing over hers as she screamed her release. Her thigh muscles tightened as she rocked against his thumb. Through the silk, he felt the wetness flow from her core and soak the material.
As her climax faded, her body began to sag. Ending their kiss with a sweet peck on her lips, Darius laid back down and pulled her with him until she was draped over his torso. Her gasps for air eased as he stroked her back from her neck to her ass and up again.
Darius reveled in the fact his woman was thoroughly satisfied—it meant more to him than finding his own release, which she hadn’t realized he’d found. That had never happened to him before—ejaculating without his cock being stimulated in some fashion.
He didn’t want to leave her, but an hour later, he forced himself from her bed. After covering her with the sheets, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, then quietly left the room.
33
Not long after having breakfast with Levi and Barrie, Darius pulled their rented SUV in behind an occupied patrol car parked in front of a small plot of land. Two of Tahira’s ever-present royal guards, Jabari and Zareb, were in a third vehicle behind them.
As Darius turned off the engine, Tahira glanced around. There were a few sheds, a dirty pickup truck that had to be at least fifteen years old, and a double wide trailer. The property had numerous overgrown trees and bushes and had more dirt and rocks than grass covering the lawn. It was about two miles from the quaint town of Brookford where Darius and his siblings had grown up.
“This is it?”
Darius glanced at her. “Yes, Princess. Some people actually do live like this—not everyone lives in a mansion.” His sharp tone was not one he’d ever used when speaking to her before.
Reaching over, she set her hand on his arm. “I am sorry, Darius, my question was not meant in a condescending manner. I know I am one of the privileged people in this world who will never have to live in a small home like this. And I know that you have done everything you can to help your father, but he does not want the help. Please do not think that I am passing judgment on you, your father, or your siblings. I would never do that.”
He placed his hand over hers and closed his fingers around it. “I know. It’s just that sometimes I get defensive about the way my father is now versus the way he used to be. He might not have been the greatest father or the greatest husband in the world, but I'd give anything to have him back the way he was before the accident.” He gave her hand a squeeze, then let go and opened his door. “Come on. Hopefully he's having a good day and I can introduce you without any problems. But don't be alarmed if he thinks I'm too young to be married. He kind of thinks I'm fifteen years younger than I am now, and unfortunately, I’ll always be that age according to him.”
“I am not worried,” she reassured him with a smile. “I really am looking forward to meeting him.”
“Wait here a minute.”
Darius got out and approached the police officer who had also exited his vehicle. Jabari and Zareb joined them, but Tahira only had eyes for one man. She studied Darius’s physique. Angie had been right the other day—it was very hard for Tahira not to ogle the man she was engaged to. Today, he was wearing snug, faded jeans, a navy-blue T-shirt that molded to his torso in a delicious manner, and a pair of black cowboy boots. If he had a cowboy hat on, he could have graced the cover of one of the modern, western romance books on her e-reader.
The men shook hands and spoke for a moment before the officer and the sentries returned to their vehicles. Meanwhile, Tahira waited for Darius to open her door. While that was something valets and her bodyguards did for her quite frequently, with Darius it was different. It seemed gallant and made her feel special and cared for in a way she never had before.
When he opened her door, she took his hand, climbed down, and walked beside him toward the trailer, loving how he intertwined their fingers and stayed connected to her. It was rare she’d held another man's hand, and even then, it was usually for only a few seconds as they’d helped her or shaken her hand. Some men tried to hold on longer than Tahira had been comfortable with. She could tell they were only fascinated by her money, her looks, or her royal standing. But she preferred a man who was interested in her as a person. One who was interested in what she had to say and challenged her intellectually. Darius was that man.
He never came across as a social climber, nor did he seem eager to get his hands on her family’s money. In fact, there were times he appeared uncomfortable with her wealth. Tahira knew he was attracted to her, but she also knew she would not be another notch on his bed post, as the Americans would say. Her royal title meant little to him in terms of his own status. Some people might think that, but their friends and family would know the truth—or the truth as it was told to them.
Before they reached the door, Darius called out, “Hey, Dad! It’s me! You awake?”
The door swung open and a gray-haired version of Levi Knight appeared. Darius and Barrie must take after their mother. Mr. Knight was slender, dressed in a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His face had been weathered by the sun until it appeared leathery, but he was still handsome.
“Of course I’m awake,” the older man rasped. His eyes narrowed as he studied Darius and then the patrol car. “What are you doing home? You’re not AWOL, are you? I’m not going to have the MPs showing up here, am I? It’s bad enough the cops are running radar in front of my house. They’ve been sitting there for weeks and haven’t written a single ticket yet.”
The corners of Darius’s mouth ticked upward as he shook his head. It was obvious this wasn’t the first time his father had asked that. “No, Dad, I’m not AWOL. I got some time off and wanted you to meet someone.”
Mr. Knight’s gaze finally settled on Tahira, and Darius introduced them. “Tahira, this is my dad, Phillip Knight. Dad, this is Tahira ... my ... um ... fiancée.”
She smiled and raised her hand in a small wave. “Hello, Mr. Knight. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
The older man raised an eyebrow. “Fiancée? She’s not pregnant, is she, kid?”
Darius choked and coughed, but Tahira just giggled. “No, Mr. Knight. I am not pregnant.” A test at Dr. Moreau’s office a few days ago had confirmed what they’d already suspected—Tahira hadn’t gotten pregnant by her rapist. Her relief had been mirrored by Darius’s. “Your son and I have been ... well, dating for a while.”
“Uh-huh. Well, then, come on in and let’s get acquainted.”
An hour later, it appeared Tahira had passed some sort of test with Darius’s father and won him over. As they sat in the trailer’s small living area, sipping sweet tea, the man had grilled her about her family, her occupation, and her education. Tahira had taken her cues from Darius and downplayed her life and social status quite a bit. Mr. Knight seemed to accept her “upper-class” family, her charity work, and her private schooling without any complaints or concerns. So, they’d stretched the truth a little bit, but if that made the man happy and didn’t stress him out, then Tahira didn’t see anything wrong with it.
Despite his memory issues, Tahira found herself charmed by the man. He made her laugh, regaling her with stories about Darius when he was much younger, much to his obvious embarrassment. A few times she had to look at Darius for clarification on something Mr. Knight said, such as what a “crick” or a “Titan” were. Apparently, that was a stream and a local sports team, respectively.
“So, when are you fixin’ to get married?”
