Free Harem by Colin Falconer

traitor, also, he thought. Drawn by pleasure like moth to a flame but what does it bring us to? The searing destruction of the fire. I could not help myself, even though I knew where it would lead me. This same flesh that brought me to ecstasy will offer me up to all the torments that Satan - or the chief bostanji-bashi , which is the same thing - can devise.
    What was he doing here? She was the Devil's spawn, that girl. But killing her now was not the inconsequential it might have been before she was iqbal . Besides, then he would never again feel her warm breasts pressed against him, or the hunger of her mouth, all the forbidden delights he thought he would never taste again when Meylissa died.
    Even food, money or power could not replace what he had found in this shadowed court, among the whispering fountains and marble walks and long-fingered plane trees. Here he was no longer a eunuch, and the razor's edge of danger that accompanied their trysts made his enjoyment only sweeter.
    What if Hürrem became pregnant also? There seemed no end to this dark tunnel of lust and its consequence. How many times had he promised himself he would never return and how long did his resolve withstand the lure of just one last time?
    She had enslaved him with her bite, her scents, her writhing, her yielding. It blotted out all else. These few snatched moments had become the purpose of his entire life now.
    How easy to pretend they would never be caught, that this might never end. He heard someone behind him and span around.
    'Did I frighten you?' Hürrem whispered.
    He felt as if his heart would lurch out of his chest. It was beating so hard it almost hurt. 'Where did you come from?'
    'I was watching you from behind the pillar.' She wore pantaloons of white silk and a gömlek of sheer emerald silk, open to the waist. The valley between her breasts deepened with each breath. She looked so composed. Was she never frightened? She wore a gauze veil attached to the green taplock she wore on her head and she pushed it aside with a practiced motion of her right hand. Her breath was hot on his cheek. 'Let's do it, quickly.'
    He glanced up at the north tower. The doors were locked, he reminded himself, but he pulled her further into the shadows anyway.
    Hürrem lifted up his robe. 'How does it feel to be a man again?'
    'You killed her,' he said.
    'It was not my fault. The abortive was too strong.'
    'You meant to do it.'
    'What if I did? Would you despise me for it? You would have killed us both if you thought it would save your neck. I saved you the trouble.'
    The pantaloons lay on the marble. She unfastened the three diamond clasps of the gömlek . 'She was your friend,' he said.
    'While you two were practically strangers. You made her pregnant as she passed you in the cloister.' She leaned back against the wall. His mouth was dry. Her nipples were hard; but then it was cold in the shadows.
    He took her roughly by the wrists and pressed her back against the wall. 'Perhaps one day I will introduce you to the Bosphorus.' He put his right hand at her throat. It was a small neck and his hand could have enclosed it easily. He traced the contours of her shoulder to her breast, squeezing as hard as he could, tried to make her cry out. But she made no sound, staring back at him with cold, green eyes.
    'They say it's rough this time of year,' she said. 'You should take care you do not fall in yourself. The Sultan might miss his Kapi Aga less than his new iqbal.' She wrapped her thighs around his hips, guiding him into her. She took a fold of his robe and stuffed it into his mouth to keep him from crying out when he reached his sublime moment. The fountains alone could not disguise such a sound.
    The Kapi Aga bit down on the silk, hating her for the power she had over him, hating himself for his weakness. Hürrem wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her hips slowly in time with his. 'Give me your juice,' she whispered. 'I want it all.'
    A moment of