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A young man and woman, with long black hair and bronze skin, lay together on a pile of pillows; breathing hard and covered in sweat. The woman leaned her head on his chest and closed her eyes. She sighed and said "My Lord, the other women were wrong about you." The man looked at her and said "How are they wrong?" The woman said "They said you were a fierce warrior, strong leader and a harsh lover." The man, the Sultan, said "How are they wrong? I still don't see it." The woman, Mari, said "I agree with everything but you being a harsh lover. You are the most compassionate and gentle lover I have known." The sultan groaned and said "Don't speak of passion, or I will be at you again and then you will know that they speak the truth." Mari laughed and trailed her hand up and down his chest; lightly caressing as it went. The muscles under his skin contracted and he went stiff. She said "My lord, I don't want to you stop." The sultan said "You ask too much, you are here to serve me, not the other way around." He pushed her away and got up; donning a robe as he went. Mari held the blanket to her chest, sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. She said "My lord, is anything the matter?" The sultan said "No, nothing is wrong." Mari stood up and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around him kissed his neck. The sultan stiffened when he felt her warmth through the thin fabric. She said "My lord, come back to bed. No one will bother us. The night is young and so are we." She slid her hand into the open neck of the robe and caressed his skin again. She felt his resolve weakening. She kissed behind his ear where she knew he was sensitive. He growled but he turned, picked her up, carried her to the bed and settled on it with her leaning over him. She sighed and they were off. Lost to the world, lost in the desire and passion they created.

I hope you have enjoyed this. I know it is not what you expect from a girl like me, but I just wanted to write it. Comments are needed, so post, post, post post, post.