Desert Nights

by Kitti Bernetti

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

"Escape into a world where forbidden love and hidden desires could erupt unexpectedly and against all odds manage to remain burning with an eternal flame. " - The Romance Reviews In the heat of the desert two men face danger but discover love... Ashmit is poised to fulfil his life-long duty and become the next sheikh of Al Nashan, when his father sends him to the desert on one final mission. He must rescue English teacher, Russ Edwards, from a group of insurgents who have kidnapped him. The moment Ashmit sets eyes on Russ, feelings awake within him that he has never experienced during his sheltered upbringing - pure, unadulterated lust. As the days and nights pass in the desert, Ashmit and Russ grow ever-closer, from sharing their deepest secrets to spending a night in an ancient temple adorned with erotic murals. But for all the pleasure, Ashmit is in turmoil. Not only is he trying to get to grips with his sexuality, but also the prospect of betraying his father, his wife-to-be and the entire nation. Life in the desert is one thing, but what will happen when they return to the palace? Which will win out: duty or love?

Release date: December 11, 2010

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 51

Sample

HIS HIGHNESS SHEIKH ASHMIT bin Sultan al Nashan’s horse stumbled on the jagged rock as he rounded yet another hill. But this time it was different. He jerked the horse’s head to a halt. Keen as a falcon’s, Ashmit’s eyes flicked over the scene in the distance. There was the Englishman, the one he had been searching for. He was kneeling in submission just paces away from his captors. Ashmit’s heart somersaulted at the sheer masculinity of the prone figure, like a Greek god brought down to Earth. Head down. His crumpled body exhausted, his wrists in heavy chains.

Ashmit dismounted, hurling himself to the ground, pushing his startled horse down beside him. Finally, after five long days tracking tyre-marks through the desert and mountains, he’d found them. Ashmit’s muscles tensed as he lay in the dust, silently watching.

It was not edifying to see a man in mortal peril. And yet it gave Ashmit a chance to plan his ambush. At least that was the plan when instead he found himself drawn to studying the foreigner. The Englishman was bare-chested. Skin unused to the sun had burnt to the colour of nutmeg and over it lay a trickling sheen of animal sweat. Although the Englishman kneeled in submission, there was a bold rigidity in the proud way he held those magnificent shoulders. His knees defiantly apart sent a signal to his gun-toting captors that he was not beaten ... yet.

Ashmit stared, transfixed by the overwhelming virility of the captive. He was all man, a powerhouse of muscles straining to be unleashed– a growling tiger temporarily caged. Ashmit was stunned. He’d expected the Englishman to be pale and insipid; he was, after all, a teacher of children. What self-respecting male took that role for heaven’s sake? That was women’s work. But seeing the foreigner tantalisingly half naked, a sexual being chained, Ashmit felt excitement rise in his loins. The Englishman was beautiful. His stomach taut as acacia bark, the muscles of his arms knotted and firm sent a jolt to Ashmit’s slumbering manhood.

Ashmit knew he should be concentrating on his mission but the Englishman’s blond hair and his tight torso were sending shockwaves of desire deep into Ashmit’s core that were so alien to him he had to blink to assure himself the scene wasn’t a mirage. No, he really was itching to pleasure himself as he appraised a male, and lusting after him with all the energy of a howling bitch on heat.

Ashmit balled his hands into fists until the gold ring on his middle finger scored into his skin. The pain would bring him back to reason. The pain made him hear the words his father had spoken so many times, ‘Ashmit, you will remain a virgin until your wedding night. That is the destiny of the sheikhs of Al Nashan. Purity in mind and body is essential to maintain the authenticity of our bloodline. When you feel like straying, use this ring; force its metal into your skin to bring you back to your senses. For you will want to stray, my son, even though you are the bravest and most loyal of my children. The urgency to spread your seed is the same for all men, whether pauper or king. You will see a beautiful face and a magnificent body and it will bewitch you and you will feel the urgings of a beast well up inside you. My father gave me that ring and his father before him. Use it wisely and you too will stay pure until you marry.’ But however much his father’s voice rang in his ears, and despite driving the sharp gold into his flesh, Ashmit couldn’t force away the magnificent erection that jutted from him against the earth where he lay. It was madness to feel urgent desire for another man. What sorcery was this that the Englishman was exerting over him even though they hadn’t met?

Ashmit was heir to the pearl throne. It was his duty to marry his teenage bride and sire her children. It must be the work of the devil that sparked passion in him for a human being who could not deliver that to him. And yet he could not deny the aching hardness jutting between his legs. Nor the overwhelming attractiveness of the Englishman.

Ashmit watched a line of sweat pour between the kneeling man’s perfectly toned pecs, and make its way over the deliciously flat stomach and down through the bushy path from his bellybutton to his low strung trousers. Ashmit licked his lips hungrily. He could almost taste the Englishman’s salt. What would it be like to reach into those trousers, to feel the power that lay within, to hold it in his hands, to rub it against his cheeks, to open his lips and take it in his mouth and taste a real man ... This was madness! The murderous heat of the sun was driving him to damnation.

In desperation Ashmit ground his chin into the stony ledge where he lay, until the flesh bled. The puddle of crimson blood was good. Pain made him see reason. For the love of God, he was nearly a king, heir to the throne; he must rise above his baser instincts. He would concentrate on his mission – only that could free him from the lustful thoughts which plagued him. After searching so long for his prize, Ashmit’s question was: how to free the Englishman?

Hamza, Ashmit’s horse snorted, threatening to reveal their hiding pl. . .