Haseki held her eyes closed, her cheek against Davud’s, tasting the sweet-wined saliva on her lips, elating in the rugged strength that held her from the floor, the intoxicating hardness of his flesh—hot to the touch.
The door to the room creaked, and opened.
Davud loosened his grip, gently slipping Haseki back down to the floor. Still she kept her arms wrapped around his waist, pressing into him. The flickering torchlight pulled Suleyman from the darkness toward them. He held a blade in trembling hands. Hesitantly, he placed it on an ormolu pedestal at their side, and wrapped his arms around them both.
There was little sound within the suite as the three hugged—the rustle of silk against silk, the thump of hearts beating in unison. The Sultan shuddered and broke the connection, steppi
