Oh.

For a moment, all I could do was replay his words over and over my mind.

Because I’d like to fuck you.

Oh. God. Oh. God.

“Lady Ella, are you listening?”

I straightened. “Umm…” I saw that the sheikh had taken a seat on the bar stool, one foot perched on the stool’s footrest. His frown made me swallow and I said weakly, “Could you, umm, repeat—-”

“I said I wanted this to be private between us.”

Oh.

Conflicting emotions hit me at the words, but I knew it was a sensible request.

His eyes narrowed when I slowly nodded. “You will not argue about it?”

I asked quietly, “Should I?”

His gaze darkened. “You trust too much—-”

“And that’s a bad thing?” I blurted out.

“Yes,” he snapped. “You can trust me, but you cannot be as trusting with other people. Especially other men!”

The possessiveness in his gaze as he spoke made me shiver with longing even as a part of me questioned the reality of it. Had I truly heard him say that? Could he really think it was possible for me to want any other man with him around?

I wetted my lips.

The sheikh saw it, and his gaze turned darker, lust glittering in his blue orbs.

Ooooooh.

In a throaty voice that I never even thought I could manage, I heard myself ask, “Are you jealous?”

He stiffened. “I do not want to talk about such things.” It was the sheikh at his loftiest.

A smile broke over my lips. He could deny it all he wanted, but it was obvious. He had been – was – jealous. Over me!

“Stop looking at me like that,” the sheikh snapped.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said innocently.

“Temptress.” An accusation but said so huskily it made my body flame up.

Oh God, I was wet again.

“Come here.” Hunger underlined the sheikh’s growl.

“Yes, Your Highness,” I said meekly, but my eyes laughed at him. At that moment, I felt like we were equals, the sheikh’s undisguised desire making me feel heady with feminine power.

When I reached him, he slid off the stool and placed me on it, lifting me up like I was no heavier than a feather.

“Open your blouse,” he commanded.

My wicked self rose to the fore, and I shook my head. “Tell me first that you missed me when you were gone.”

When the sheikh looked like he wanted to throw me over the nearest cliff, I pouted. It was the first time in my life I had pouted – or had any reason to pout – and it felt quite fun. Liberating even, that I also found myself fluttering my lashes. “Please?”

The last one seemed to do the trick, and even as the sheikh shook his head, he muttered, “Yes, you temptress, I had missed you. Your sheikh missed you. Every damn day I was away, I missed you, and there wasn’t a second I didn’t dream of fucking you.”

I gasped.

The sheikh’s jaw clenched, disbelief stamped on his face as if he was unable to believe he had said something so revealing. Glaring at me, he demanded acerbically, “Are we finished now?”

“Yes, Your Highness.” I didn’t have to pretend I was meek this time, his explicit words rendering me limp with desire.

“Then open your damn blouse before I rip it apart and let you walk out here half naked!”

The callous words should have offended me, but it only made my pulse quicken and my breasts feel heavier. I really must be sick, to find his cruelty such a turn-on. But sick or not, I wanted him, and I was done denying that particular truth.

Slowly, my fingers started to move.

One by one, the buttons of my blouse came undone. Inch by inch, I revealed more of myself, and I caught my breath as I felt the cool blast of the air conditioning caress my skin. Unable to help it, I raised my gaze to the sheikh, and I was mesmerized. The anger had faded in his eyes, replaced with such hunger – such possessive need – it made me want to offer myself to him.

Whatever my sheikh wanted, I would do it for him.

The sheikh began to fondle my lace-covered breasts, his large hands more than capable of covering the pale round globes completely.

His touch had me moaning as I struggled between feeling so shy and aroused. Even with all that we had done, everything still felt so new and I couldn’t help worrying that he would find me terribly inexperienced.

“Relax, ukhayyah,” the sheikh murmured.

“I’m t-trying.”

“You have nothing to worry about. I love your breasts. They’re so damn big, I could feast on them forever.” He squeezed my breasts, as if to emphasize his point, and the aching sensation inside me deepened.

I tried to stifle my moans, but the sheikh shook his head. “No one will hear us from here.” He released my breasts, murmuring hoarsely, “Now, bare them for me, ukhayyah.”


Tags: Marian Tee Romance
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