The Fallen Widow

Chapter 28: The King of Love Making

The cockerels of Jahanpur announced a new dawn and with it, a new Queen. But in the kitchens and corridors of the haveli, the morning tasted of ash. The maids whispered over their work. The sacred ritual, the prayers for a fertile womb and a male heir, had not been performed in the Queen's chamber. It was essential. It was tradition. Hoorayn left before the prayers.
"It is a sign," one maid muttered, kneading dough with sharp, disappointed jabs. "She is not the rightful queen."
"If only Choudhrani Shahgul were here," sighed another, fanning the cooking fire. "She would never have allowed this."
"But then," a third voice cut in, low and certain, "she never allowed her son to marry a widow."
The verdict was sealed before the Queen opened her eyes. Shah Nawaz had married a barren woman, and the haveli, in one unified whisper, declared her bad luck.

Hoorayn's eyes flickered but remained closed. Her body felt moist, damp, sweaty and naked with the silk sheets half covering her body. A draft blew against the curve of her foot. Her hair open, spread on the pillow like curtains, sticky against her neck. What had happened? Did she really marry Shah Nawaz? The light hit her eyelids and she opened her eyes to find herself naked on Shah Nawaz's bed. Her hands decorated with fresh mehndi, her wrists dressed with heavy gold bangles which she struggled to carry on her fragile wrists. It took her a few seconds for reality to hit her, she was queen of Jahanpur. She reached out to space next to her, Shah Nawaz had left.
A few hours earlier, her eyes flickered as she recalled lying in Shah Nawaz's bare chest, his strong arms around her.

"Are you awake?" She whispered breathing in his strong sandalwood scent.

"I can't take my eyes off you, Bulbul." He wrapped his arms around her tight, and pulled her up to his lips so he could kiss her forehead.
"I don't know whether to look at you, or eat you."
Hoorayn giggled as he rolled her onto the bed and mounted her nibbling at her ear lobe. He was strong, bulky, his tousled hair falling into his face, a stud glistened on his left ear lobe. Hoorayn sighed deeply, finding this moment overwhelming and his frame intimidating. Shah Nawaz drew his thumb over her full bodied lips leaning for another taste, deep and throbbing like this was the first time.

"Bas." She breathed trying to stop him. "Let me sleep for a few hours."

"There will be no sleeping in the King's bed." He growled making her squeal with delight.
"Shah Nawaz-" She gasped returning her to the glory of the morning and an empty bed. The memories fresh replaying in her mind. He was slow. His touches sending electric shocks through her body. Her legs trembling. Heart pounding. Her hands curving his muscular arms. He was a wild, handsome and broad.

"You belong to me." His groans echoed the room. "You are mine."

Her arms clutched around his body.

Passion, desire, and orgasmic highs all night long. He kissed every curve of her body, arching her back, as she gasped with incredulous pleasure moaning his name her hands clutching his biceps tight digging in her nails.

She looked at the ceiling chandelier, the tiny crystals whilst caught in the trap of her thoughts. He taken her body to electric highs that she never knew existed. Her body doing things she didn't know was possible. It wasn't just him, she could hear her gasps echoing in the room.

"Shawaj....don't stop... you- drive me wild."

She shut her eyes tight. Her heart pounding recalling her wedding night. Embarrassed. Ashamed. Women must stay modest. Submissive. Demure and not ask for love. She should accept what is given to her. Don't complain. Don't talk about intimate relations, it's a sacred and private act between man and his wife. Whatever happens, good or bad, consensual or not, a woman must not complain or share with anyone- ever. It's sinful.