The Sheik's Son

“Oh, you were asking about Sophie. She hasn’t done anything that I recall, sir. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Sebastian said.

“Yes, yes,” Dorset murmured. “Christ! I feel like I’m friends with two monks.”

“What?” Etienne asked, joining in the conversation. He still couldn’t get Leila out of his mind. All night had been torture and now she was just gone. A strange stillness had settled inside him.

“Nothing,” Dorset said, shaking his head.

***

Juliette had been surprised when late in the evening Sebastian came into the brothel. He didn’t say much and she knew that was his way. He seemed preoccupied but she didn’t ask. Most of the time the men that entered the brothel doors weren’t interested in talking.

Sometimes there was an elderly gentleman who’d lost his wife and wanted companionship, or the younger man who, after finishing in one minute, wanted to talk, but for the most part it was sex.

For Sebastian, that evening it was sex. And it wasn’t a sweet mating. It was a pounding coupling that left Juliette sore the next morning.

He wasn’t brutal or cruel but he wanted nothing more than to pound into her and feel her walls ripple and constrict around his cock. He moved in and out of her and she moaned into his ear even as he withdrew and she was on all fours. He was pulling at her hips, pounding into her again, and she called his name.

“Bash,” she cried, his hands on her and his hips slapping into hers. She could feel his rigid cock slide in and out of her and the pleasure was intense.

She could hear the grunts and moans in other rooms, but she was consumed by the pleasure she felt. She climaxed briefly when she was on top of him and they continued in different positions for an hour until he climaxed.

She moved to light a candle at one quiet interval but he spoke. “Leave it.”

Other than those two words, he didn’t say anything to her at all. They lay together in the darkness and when she took him in her mouth, he didn’t stop her. She moved down the shaft, taking more and more of his thickness into her throat, almost gagging at his thick length.

His hand threaded into her dark hair and he imagined long auburn hair against the white bedclothes.

When she looked up at him he could see her in the darkness and he imagined hazel eyes in an oval face. The thought of Sophie sent him completely over the edge and he emptied his seed into Juliette’s eager, hot mouth.

***

Leila combed her long dark hair and climbed into the bedclothes, naked and sleek. She had enjoyed every minute of torturing her brother’s good-looking friend Etienne that evening.

She knew he couldn’t say anything to her brother and she, of course, would remain silent. She had dreaded leaving Arabia and everything she knew behind. Arab men were very masculine but not as easy to tease. She was also segregated much of the time with women and only able to freely mingle when there were large parties. She had been very careful and tested her feminine wiles on foreign men like the Turk, lest her father discover her ways.

But Frenchmen were deliciously simple and poor Etienne had been like clay in her hands. She had been able to touch and tease him and she could see through his breeches that he had been rock-hard much of the night.

She stretched her arms above her head and yawned delicately. She would try and behave herself next time they met. But she had so enjoyed herself that she didn’t think she would try that hard.

Chapter 9

Jean Pierre read the letter from Madame Necker and decided that he would show it to his mother. Though he had been invited, it was more than obvious his work would keep him in Paris and he would not be able to attend.

However, the letter was a clear invitation for Sophie to attend a week’s party at the Neckers’ chateau in the country. Madame Necker had invited several esteemed people including the Duke of Dorset, Jean-François Marmontel and Jean-François de La Harpe.

Madame Necker was very taken with Sophie’s grace and intelligence and would protect her as she would her own daughter, she assured Jean Pierre. It went without saying that Eugenie Gauvreau would attend as chaperone and she wrote that she greatly hoped he would consent to allow his daughter to join them.

The Neckers often entertained at their chateau during certain times of the year and she felt Sophie would be a welcome addition to their lively discussions.

Jean Pierre watched his mother read the letter and her lips pursed in grave disapproval.

“I think not, my son,” she concluded.

Jean Pierre stoked the fire with the brass poker and replaced it, returning to his mother. “Why ever not? Surely you don’t disapprove of Madame Necker? She is an intelligent and celebrated salonist.”

“Well that’s as may be, Jean Pierre. But I’m not sure if those are qualities to be so admired in a woman,” Eugenie said imperiously.

This old argument again. He sighed.