The Sheikh's Virgin Mistress 3 (Jatar Sheikh 3)

“No John, it doesn’t want you. I don’t want you! Sorry, but no.”

I sank back onto my hip, as far away from him as I could get. He sighed and stood up to leave.

“You’re nothing but a tease, Anna.”

I was now past being offended and I stood too. “Leave John. The door is right there. ”

He stormed out and I refilled my wine glass before reclining on the couch, alone. I tried Omar yet again, and yet again there was no response. I decided this episode was definitely something I’d never mention to Omar. He didn’t need to know that this experience only made me miss him all that much more. Him and his magnificent body and the way he commanded mine in ways no other ever could. Of that simple fact, I was now certain. I filed this incident away as a learning experience in what not to do, and as the comparison I needed to cement my thoughts about giving myself to Omar exclusively for the rest of my life.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Two more weeks passed before Omar called me. I’d given up and thought him long dead. His voice was weary and I occasionally heard familiar beeps that reminded me of my hospital stay.

“Are you in the hospital?” I asked.

“I am home.”

“But you’re hurt?”

“I will heal, it is nothing.” He said in as bland of a tone as I’d ever heard from him.

I insisted he tell me what happened, but he refused. Again stating he would be okay, he was just tired and needed to rest. The conversation only lasted a few minutes and then I heard Yasmin’s familiar voice.

“Mistress, he is resting. The pain meds put him to sleep.”

I plead with her to tell me what happened, but she said she’d been ordered to not divulge. I was beyond frustrated and considered flying to Dubai to be near him. I felt he needed me. Yasmin again insisted I stay where I was and he was going to be okay. By the time we hung up, I was so worried I was crying. But I knew they were right and I was helpless from this distance.

I’d spent New Year’s alone, again. It seemed that from when I met Omar to the present, we’d managed to separate during the two seasons of holidays. I was lonely and depressed and found it difficult to focus at all. Julie helped me with a few distractions and shopping trips. She was all about retail therapy and I told her she needed to come back to Dubai with me at some point and I would take her shopping like she’d never even imagined.

I was thankful for her in my life, but apart from school and her, I felt pretty alone. My dad hadn’t talked to me once since Thanksgiving and my mom had stayed with her sister through the new year, so I’d not really talked to her much either. After the disastrous episode at Christmas with John, I’d sworn off even masturbating.

At this point, I was feeling every bit the dog in heat when it came to my thoughts about Omar. I continued to think about Omar and his impressive body and how much I wanted to feel him inside me again. I

was literally trapped though, unable to do anything until I completed the next two months of school. The second I did that, I was free to do as I pleased and I really hoped that Omar had completed his mission in the process of incurring whatever injuries he was now recovering from.

I drank too much wine on a regular basis in an attempt at drowning my misery and loneliness and I continued with my studies. I was learning Arabic as well, something I hoped to surprise Omar with when I saw him again. I felt I was doing pretty well but it was a difficult language and I wasn’t one of the people that had an aptitude for languages, so I was struggling just a bit. I was however not giving up and I often caught myself wondering if perhaps my dad hadn’t been right and Omar was finished with me.

His lack of communication had increased over the past few months and now that he was apparently on the injured and healing list, I wondered how long before our next communication. I was unwilling to face the fact that he might never come for me; that we might indeed be over. So, I sunk even farther down into my self-imposed pit and I marked days on the calendar toward my day of freedom.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Graduation day was finally before me, and I was ready. I’d completed all the last required credits and although I was no longer an A+ student, I was set to graduate in the top ten percent of my class. I’d even had a few other job offers from very prestigious firms in the US. My mom and dad were coming to the graduation ceremony along with most of my relatives and friends from high school. Dad had rented a hall and we were having a bit of a party.

Aside from the lingering tensions between me and Omar, I was kind of excited. He and I had talked only a handful of times over the last eight weeks and now he seemed so distant I wasn’t sure I even knew him. I felt he was struggling with something, but he refused to talk to me about it. Needless to say, the chasm between us had widened and I was now uncertain about a future with him.

I looked out over the crowd from my seat on the podium and I found my mother’s face first. She was happy, but also had a hanky in her hand and occasionally dabbed at random tears. My dad was working the crowd, shaking hands and no doubt making deals. I scanned around and saw a few familiar faces of friends and acquaintances. When I noticed a man with a cane, limping towards the lawn of spectators, I didn’t immediately recognize him.

In true train wreck fashion, I did a rubber necking double take when I saw the limo from which the man with the cane had departed, and then I squinted against the blazing spring sun so I could get a better view of the tall Arab man dressed in a beautiful grey suit. I stood on shaking knees and almost fell down when I realized it was Omar.

I darted off the podium and tripped at the bottom of the stairs. I fell in a heap and I heard the crowd react. I didn’t miss a beat though, running and almost tripping again as I flew past the gawking spectators. I heard my dad, “Anna, what the …?” And then when he must have also spotted Omar, “Oh no.”

Inside my head I kind of laughed at his defeated tone. I was crying and laughing out loud too as I rushed to Omar. I stalled and stopped just a few feet from him. He looked tired and worn and as if the last six months had taken its toll. He’d aged ten years and he looked weary. I looked down at his cane and then back up into his tear filled eyes.

“Goddess. I’ve missed you.” He said as he choked back sobs.

I gave up and full on wailed as I flung my arms around his neck. Mumbling against his skin,

“Omar, Omar, I love you so much. I can’t believe you’re here.”