Sheikh's Revenge

“Are you alright, Addy?” he asked, frowning at her. “Was the ride alright?”

“It was probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever done. Far away from my home, more or less alone with my sheikh and watching the sunset, seeing that explosion of reds and roses across the sky? It was all amazing.”

“Then why do you look so bothered? Your brow’s furrowed so hard that I almost expect that you’re doing quantum physics equations in your head.”

“I’m not bothered,” she said. “Well, not in that way.”

Great, Addy, like that doesn’t sound too desperate.

“Then in what way are you, ahem, bothered?” he asked.

She turned and traced one finger over the loose fabric of his robes. “I think you know exactly how I’m bothered, and what you can do to calm me. Two nights ago, I was a bit fuzzy, couldn’t enjoy every single moment as thoroughly as I wanted to.”

“You brought me to my knees and beyond, Addy, there’s nothing for you to be ashamed of. It was fantastic.”

“Exactly,” she said, tracing one nail over his cheek. “And I want to feel that too. I need to feel that. Can you make love to me, Zahir? Fully?”

“Is this what you want? When you woke up at the palace…”

“I’m scared,” she said. That was a bit of a fib. She was far more than scared. She was terrified. If anything happened between them, if it all went badly, then she was back couch surfing in Boston, but she had to take this chance. “I know it’s hard to trust anyone, and I’ve had some shitty luck of late, but this is something good, something so pure between us. Please, my sheikh, make love to me.”

He frowned, and for a minute she half-feared, half-hoped that he’d recognize her as his kitten. But soon, Zahir was shaking that momentary confusion from his face and rushing to the side table by the bed. He pulled out the foil packet and tossed it to the mattress. Before her, he grinned and started to strip, pulling off his thin linen shirt slowly until she finally saw the great expanse of his rippling abs and the tawny, olive complexion of his skin. She’d marveled at him in the dark of the limo, but that crappy lighting hadn’t done him any justice. Or, at least, not enough. He was a marvel to behold. Watching him unzip his trousers was the ultimate tease and she licked her lips, feeling that familiar flame and need flicker through her belly again.

Zahir shoved his pants down and, again, had no underwear underneath. Perhaps her sheikh had an exhibitionist streak in him. No, scratch that. After all they’d done on the roof of Club Rouge, she knew for a fact that he had such a showy side to him. But with a body like that, Zahir should have.

Her eyes widened at the full sight of his erection, sprung free and readied for her. He grinned back at her, undid the foil packet, and slid the condom over his member with practiced grace. Then he patted the mattress.

“I don’t know if this is completely fair. If I put on a bit of a show for you, Addy, then I should get something back before we get to bed.”

She shook her head, and then pulled her red hair out of the ponytail that had kept it controlled on the camel ride. Her mane of unruly curls spilled out over her shoulders, and she hated it, but the way Zahir’s pupils seemed to dilate a bit at the sight, Addison had a feeling that her sheikh loved her hair.

Well, at least it’s good for something…

“I want to make love up against the wall.”

“You what?” he queried, amusement thick in his voice.

“You heard me,” she said, slipping her T-shirt over her head and then unbuckling her bra. There was a Cheshire cat grin on her face; she could feel it spreading there, but she couldn’t stop it. Addison didn’t even want to. Zahir made her feel so much more womanly, like she was ready to explore every aspect of herself. Right now, what she wanted most was to let that wild side of her fully out. He said he’d always wanted to touch the wilderness. Well, let him find that between both of them.

Reaching down, she cupped her breasts, ran her hands over them and then made them creep lower. Agile fingers, emboldened by her lust, unbuttoned her jeans and she slid those off as well. Now she stood before her lover in nothing but her panties. Her creeping, curious fingers explored lower, digging under the waistband of her panties. Then, with a swift tug, she had yanked them down over her thighs and calves. When the rested on the ground around her ankles, Addison stepped directly out of them.

Now, naked as the day she’d been born, Addison stood before him with one hip jutted out, as if even her body was doing everything it could to convey the serious nature of her dare.

“Please, Zahir, come and get me.”

It was like provoking a bull by waving a red flag before him. Zahir was rushing for her then, his nostrils seeming to flare as

well. Before she knew it, she was swept up in his strong arms. She eyed the coiled muscles of his biceps and realized that this strong specimen of man was hers, at least for the weekend, and she intended to take every advantage of it.

“You’re mine now, Miss Morgan,” he said, his tone a gravelly bass that made her wet, left her juices dripping from her channel.

“I am yours, my sheikh,” she responded, smirking broadly at him. “How are you going to prove it?”

“Like this,” he said, carrying her to the closest wall. Her back bit into the cool stone, and she felt the heft of him, the heaviness of his massive body as he pinned her to the wall. “I’m going to show you so many things, Addy.”

“All talk and no action is extremely cheap, my sheikh,” she teased.

He didn’t speak or offer a rejoinder for her taunt. Instead, his mouth was on the rosy pink bud of her nipple, his tongue flicking quickly until it had risen into a hardened, sensitized peak. She mewled under his ministrations as Zahir’s talented tongue started to circle her left areola with feverish devotion. Addison was even wetter than before.