The Sheikh's Virgin Mistress 4 (Jatar Sheikh 4)

INTRODUCTION

After Omar reappeared in my life, the next week took on a hurricane type push to get me moved back to Dubai. This time was for real. We were going to officially marry and then rush off to a secret honeymoon. I had only a couple of weeks to prepare, and I still felt uncertain about moving back to the war-torn region. Omar assured me it was once again safe, but the American news was telling me a different story. At least in regards to the Middle East and the ever-rising turmoil in that part of the world.

My mom wasn’t helping with her voiced worries, but surprisingly my dad was being as supportive as he could be. He’d stayed in Boston with my mom and me after graduation and had even helped me pack some of my more precious belongings. My mom continued to cry at random intervals until I finally asked Omar if she could come with us when we return to the Palace.

I was a bit stressed about all of it and still coming down from the weeks of study leading up to finals and then graduation. Having Omar with me was part comfort and part the opposite, since he insisted on being near me as much as possible. Plus, he was insisting on making up for lost time in the sexual department. In other words, he’d been taking me in as many creative sexual positions as we could manage with his still healing left side

I was mostly just tired and ached to spend a week in bed, sleeping. That, however, was not part of the plan, and I was frantically trying to make sure I didn’t forget anything before our flight out the next morning. Having his servants helped with the stress of it all, and I was getting much better at giving orders. Like Omar had told me, “A queen must be able to direct her staff.” And so, I was trying in that department even though it still made me a bit uncomfortable.

It was the middle of the night before we were to leave, and I was spooned up into the curve of Omar’s groin. He was asleep, but was still holding me protectively with both his arms wrapped around me. I should have been asleep, too. I was so tired, but my mind wouldn’t slow down. I continued to think about the last time we were shot at and then the horrific abduction would flash into my mind. I’d tried to banish all those thoughts and memories, but had been unsuccessful over the past few months, and as much as I wished I would never think about that episode again, it still entered my mind, possessing my thoughts whenever I let down my guard.

Omar’s injuries and the brutality he’d faced at the hands of the same group of infidels didn’t help me feel any safer about returning to the desert. His scars from the operations were extensive and traveled from his left hip all the way down that leg. His knee would never be the same, and I wondered how his diminished physical prowess was going to affect his mental. He seemed different to me, almost as if his spirt had been defeated along with his body. I could only hope he would rise once again and be the somewhat arrogant, cocky, ruler of a nation I’d fallen so deeply in love with.

Strange as it was, I adored his dominant attitude, especially towards me. I loved how he just took me whenever he wanted, wherever we were. I liked it when he disciplined me, and when he made hard, passionate love to me till I passed out. The later was something that had happened on a few occasions before our temporary separation and his injuries.

“Goddess, can you not sleep? Let your mind rest, my love.” Omar’s voice was just above a whisper, and as he pulled me tighter to his front, I felt his growing hardness.

“Sorry. Lots on my mind. Big changes.”

“Ahhh, perhaps I can help?” He prodded me with his length and skidded against the soft skin of my bottom.

I pushed into him and rolled my pelvis enough that he could nestle his hard shaft up against the apex of my thighs. He felt my already wet entrance, and he slid against my body a few more times, growing even harder. I made a sound of need and lifted my thigh. He palmed himself and guided himself to my threshold. Within a moment he was inside my body. We both moaned, and I pushed into him. In this position, on our sides, it wasn’t the deepest possible penetration, but it was him inside me, and that was all I needed.

He reached over my hip and gripped at my folds, rubbing on my clit in the process. He then began a slow, languid roll of his hips. He was laying on his right side, so I knew it probably wouldn’t hurt him, and I helped from my position as I pushed into and braced against his insistent shoves and thrusts. His hand on my center held me and stabilized my position. Together we made slow, delicious love.

“I love you, Anna,” he whispered at my ear as his lips nibbled and kissed at my neck.

“Omar, yes, yes, yes,” I chanted as my insides burst to life.

He made a sound of need and pushed me to my belly, and slowly he rolled on top of my back, still buried in my core. He’d been unable to be on his knees, and I waited to see how he was going to manage being on top. He stayed laying on me, supporting his upper body with his strong arms, as I lifted my behind higher, giving him the perfect angle. He made that sound, the one that always slayed me, and he slid himself in and out of me with more urgency.

“Yes, Anna, I need to take you properly, with you under me,” he said through gritted teeth.

I helped him by stabilizing my body as he thrust himself in and out. We both made animal sounds, and when he was ready to release, he growled in his old dominant way of ordering me, “Anna, come for me.”

As it always had in the past, my body obeyed him, and we both released at the same time. His ejaculation was immense and with it his sounds of delight at being on top of me, mixed with his commands, brought me to a massive climax. And, much to my delight, all thoughts whooshed out of my brain and I simply became a spent body, twitching under the man I was to marry in less than two weeks’ time.

CHAPTER ONE

I was starting to love the private jets and luxurious wealth of Omar’s life. The flight back to Dubai was uneventful, and I managed a solid ten hours of sleep. My mom decided to stay in Boston since my dad was going to remain at the brownstone for another couple of weeks. I was happy they were getting along better, and I dearly hoped my dad’s new attitude would stick. My mom already looked younger, and she laughed more than I could ever remember her laughing in the past decade.

Omar tended to business as soon as we returned to the Palace in the clouds, and I began to move in for real. I even gathered the house staff and assumed my new role as mistress of the home. Omar had declared he wanted me to handle any and all household concerns and meal planning. I still felt uneasy about it all, but again, these were things that a queen must do.

Thankfully, the staff was well trained and there wasn’t much I had to change. I was to consult with the chef at the beginning of the week to plan the menu, and I was to oversee any incoming guests or visitors that wished to seek an audience with Omar. Apart fro

m those duties, I was given liberty to do as I wished. The only stipulations were that I did not leave the building without at least three men as protection. Omar had privately told me he would like it if I never left the building without him and his battalion of soldiers.

I was fine with that. If I sought freedom, all I had to do was head down into the lower floors of the tallest building in the world and I could find anything and everything at my fingertips. There was even an ice skating rink on one floor and a full mall-type shopping experience on another. I could spend a year in the place and probably still not see all that this one facility had to offer. Besides, I was in no hurry to be seen by the public or raise attention to the infidels still stalking the streets. I was pale skinned and still couldn’t speak the language that well.

Yasmin greeted me eagerly and together we planned the outfits I wanted to wear on the honeymoon, of which I was still unaware of the location. Omar wanted to surprise me, and apart from being told it was in a warm climate, I was given no other hints.

Tonight we were having a formal dinner for visiting dignitaries, and I was excited to get dressed up. Omar was such an incredible appreciator that I loved getting all dolled up just for him. He did, of course, love messing me up afterwards, but honestly, I found that part even more fun. Just the anticipation as the night would drag on and the hungry look in Omar’s eye would be all the foreplay I needed.

Yasmin was happy that my hair was now long enough to braid, and she dolled me up and did my makeup the way Omar liked it most. She braided my hair into a curving braid at the back of my head and then put small, fresh cut wildflowers into it. I wore a flowing thigh-length dress that had a floral design matching the flowers in my hair. The dress itself was halter style and pulled my ample breasts up even higher and tighter together, offering an alluring cleavage display.

I wore a pair of high heel pumps in silver leather, and when Omar saw me he pulsed his jaw and flared his nostrils as he studied me for several long, drawn out moments. My body responded as it always had, and I had a moment of wondering if I needed to change my panties.

He pulled me to him with just an intent look, and as I drew closer he wrapped his arm around my waist and growled, “You are mine, Anna. I need you this instant.”

I giggled, “But Rashid will be here soon.”

He gritted his jaw and growled, “I don’t care.”

I batted my lashes in response. I’d learned that I couldn’t tell him no without it instigating the opposite. So I waited. He rubbed his suit-covered erection against me, and the motion pushed up the skirt of the dress. His big hand went to my bottom and he held me there, rubbing and pushing into me as my body pooled hotly. A sigh escaped my mouth, and within the next second, his big hand was inside my panties and his middle finger had traveled down between my legs. The sound he made was darn near orgasmic, and my legs shook as his finger stroked my cleft from behind.

“Damn temptress,” he said in a whiskey-strained voice. “How do you affect me this way?”

“You do the same to me, Omar,” I whined as I pushed into his body, enjoying how hard my appearance made him. Then I added, “After dinner, take me then.” I went on tip-toe and kissed him, then muttered, “I am all yours.”

The look on his face and the deep guttural rumble that accompanied it made me smile. “Yes, later.” He kissed me back with a white hot passion. “You are a divine creature, Anna.”

The dignitaries that were there for dinner were nothing more than Omar’s old friend Amir Rashid, a sheikh from Abu Dhabi and an ally from a neighboring Arab nation. Amir was slightly older than Omar, but no less handsome. He was a massive man with broad shoulders and that same, commanding, enigmatic presence as Omar. He also spoke perfect English, and I later learned he did all of his university time in the United States.

During the meal, I was included in the banter and conversations. I found it easy to like Amir. He treated me with respect and went out of his way to include me in some of the casual chit chat. He was as modern in his thinking as Omar, and I laughed often during dinner. After we eat, the men left for the study and I was excused.