"Because it isn't proper," she told him.
"Proper for whom?" he asked.
"Where I was raised, men and women don't touch each other like that unless they are married."
"But this sheik who taught you Arabic?"
"Yes?" she asked, confused.
"You were not his wife?"
"I said I wasn't."
"Yet you let him touch and taste you?"
"Yes," Katharine said, looking away.
"Why would you do that? I thought it wasn't proper," he said, throwing her words back at her.
"I loved him," she said. "I love him," she corrected herself. She hated this intimate conversation. She didn't want to talk about her feelings for Mohammed with this man.
"I don't require your love," Majeed told her coldly.
Majeed's cock throbbed with need, and he looked across at Katharine as she looked away. He stood up abruptly and left her.
***
Rana was folding blankets with the other women in her tent when Majeed came upon them.
"You may leave," he told the servant women.
"Majeed?" she questioned him, but he said nothing.
With no words or affection, he turned her around and forced her with his hand to kneel on the floor. He kneeled behind her and moved the long abaya fabric up her legs and over her rounded hips. The fabric gathered at her waist as Majeed moved his robe out of the way to have access to his cock.
Rana knew he wanted the foreign girl and was thinking about her long, cream-colored limbs, but she didn't care. She felt his cock between her buttocks and she squeezed her eyes shut at the pleasure she knew was coming. She could feel the bulbous head of his cock, and she arched her back so that he could have access to her slick cunt.
As his cock sank into her pussy, she moaned like a whore. Majeed had never been a sexual man, and Rana often pleasured herself because his need was not as great as hers. Majeed's hands came up to grasp Rana's hips, and his own hips slapped into hers again and again as his cock slid in and out of her tight pussy.
He had one hand on her hip, his other hand threaded into her long dark hair, and he jerked her head up like a disobedient mare.
"Harder," she moaned, like the lowest whore on the street, as her husband took her body, harshly grinding into her hips. He pulled her head back as his hips slapped into hers and she tried to push back against him, wanting him deeper inside her cunt.
Their grunts were loud and harsh in the tent. Her climax was swift as his thick milk pumped into her body. When she turned around, he was gone, leaving behind his sticky seed inside her pussy. Rana's legs were shaking as she cleaned herself. She knew he had used her, but even though she knew she should be angry, she wasn't. She was sated. She smoothed her dress down over her body and smiled.
***
Almost a half hour later, Mohammed entered Rana’s tent.
"Hello, Rana," he spoke to her.
"Mohammed! Dearest, brother!" she exclaimed, kissing him on both cheeks in greeting. Rana had known Mohammed most of her life and was very fond of him. She had always been dazzled by his handsomeness. Though Muslim women were not supposed to bare their faces to men, even male family members, Majeed was not so strict and Mohammed was his brother.
"Allah be praised that you are well, my sister," he spoke lightly and watched her move away from him to offer him something cool to drink.
"And you. You are well, brother? What brings you to us, so far from your own home?"
"I crave peace," he said. Mohammed settled himself before her.