My Controlling Sheikh Read online

  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.”

  My hands shook as I pulled the cups of my bra down. I whimpered as my too-big breasts spilled free, and whimpered again as I heard him suck his breath and look at my breasts like he wanted to devour them.

  “Feed them to me, ukhayyah.”

  Shivering with wanton pleasure at the words, I cupped my breasts and offered them up to him.

  For a moment, all he did was stare, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

  Oh, God. The way he stared—-

  And then suddenly it was there, his mouth on my breast.

  Aaaaaaaaah.

  I whimpered, moaned, and sobbed as the sheikh suckled on my nipples. Hard and long, possessively and hungrily, like a man who had thirsted for the taste of my nipples for an eternity.

  I looked down at his bent head, and I became so, so much wetter.

  The sheikh was sucking on my breasts.

  The thought had my hands slowly moving, my fingers sinking into his silky dark hair, and holding on to him, I pushed my nipple deeper into his mouth.

  More, I begged silently in mind. Suck on it more, my cruel, beautiful sheikh.

  When the sheikh released my nipple, I cried out in protest, but the sound soon turned into a moan when he only took my other nipple into his mouth, laving it with the same hungry attention.

  Out of my mind with need, I could only melt into his hold, wanting more of the piercing ache that rocked my body as my sheikh continued to suckle.

  When he suddenly released me, I looked down at him, dazedly. He was stopping...again?

  I saw him frown, his head turning towards the door, and that was when I realized the private intercom mounted on the wall was ringing insistently. Answering the call by voice command, the sheikh asked, “What is it?”

  “Your Highness, I am terribly sorry for bothering you at this time, but I fear something has come up that warrants your attention.” Luke, the sheikh's personal assistant, sounded urgent as he spoke.

  The sheikh slanted a glance at my way.

  It's okay, I mouthed while quickly buttoning my blouse.

  “I will be out with you in a minute,” the sheikh told Luke and ended the call. When I was dressed, the sheikh cupped my face. “I am sorry for this.”

  “Duty calls,” I tried to say lightly but failed. With a shaky smile, I simply promised him, “I won’t be selfish.”

  “You have no reason to be,” he said just as simply. “I am coming back to you as soon as I can.”

  And he did, sooner than I expected, but when he returned, his handsome face was blazing with anger.

  “Your Highness?” I stammered, not sure if I had something to do with his black mood.

  The look the sheikh sent my way answered my question, and I flinched. His voice menacingly soft, he said, “Remind me, ukhayyah. What did I make you promise before I left? Do you remember?”

  I whitened at his words, realizing with terrifying clarity what this was about.

  He knew. He knew about the Sheikh of Layla.

  The sheikh pointed at the door. “Get out.” When I could only look at him, shaking, he roared, “Leave before I throw you out!”

  Tears pricking my eyes, I rushed out of his suite and almost bumped into Luke, who was waiting outside the sheikh's door. He took one look at me, and his face softened. “Oh, Lady Ella.”

  I didn’t dare blink, not wanting to cry. I didn’t believe I deserve to. “He’s so angry,” I whispered. “What I did – was it really that bad?”

  Luke silently handed me the tabloids he held in his hands.

  I took them, and the headlines were horrifying. The more I read, the worse they got. The media here was virtually accusing me of being an experienced seductress, an ambitious American gold-digger determined to have her own kingdom.

  As one tabloid pointed out: like mother, like daughter.

  “I thought writing letters would be harmless.” Shame colored my voice.

  Luke winced. “Unfortunately, they are far from being harmless.” Pausing, the sheikh's aide then said carefully, “I understand that as someone who had not been born in the kingdom, certain nuances of our culture may not make sense to you. However, Lady Ella...you cannot also close your eyes to the truth. You are a member of the royal family now, and even if it is just for the sake of showing respect for our customs and traditions, there are rules that you are expected to uphold.”

  “In kingdoms such as ours, communication between unmarried men and women is always restricted and conducted in supervised settings. Even exchanged glances are frowned upon and there are many cases when such have been the bases of hasty engagements. I hope you bear this in mind next time, milady.”

  “I will,” I promised determinedly. But, I thought painfully, I wasn’t sure if the sheikh would still care that I did.

  The Consequence

  “You are being too hard on her, Khal.”

  The sheikh would have taken the words of wisdom to heart if it had come from anyone but Raj. The other man may be his childhood friend, but Khal also knew the other royal to be a heartless womanizer. The Sheikh of Najma was definitely not the best adviser when it came to matters of the heart.

  It had been a week since the scandal between Ella and Layla's heir had broken out, and yet instead of fading, the news had only spread further, as if someone was deliberately fanning the flames.

  And of course Khal knew who that person was.

  'We’re fortunate that whoever stole those photos did not reveal the contents,' Luke had told him. “The person only made sure that Lady Ella and Sheikh of Layla's names are seen in the pictures.'

  'It only means the owner of those photos is biding his or her time. Keep everyone digging for paper trails. No expense should be spared. I want results as soon as possible.'

  That had been three days ago, and progress h
ad been disturbingly slow. While the sheikh's trust in Luke was implicit, Khal was frustrated by the amount of time that was being wasted. The more days that passed, the more his kingdom’s people were unwittingly turning into his half-sister’s puppets.

  Seething with frustration at his inability to turn the tides, the sheikh cursed under his breath, saying curtly to Raj, “Let’s make a run for it.”

  The two men urged their horses down the dunes and charged past oases and a field of cacti. By the time both sheikhs paused to rest, the sun had started to set, and its moribund rays had turned the sand into a deeper shade of red.

  “You’ve found your thoughts yet?” Raj asked quietly.

  Khal didn’t answer.

  “You know old Luke is right,” Raj murmured. “She is American, and she has only been in your kingdom for a few months. Is it reasonable to expect her to memorize the millions of rules we have governing our lives?”

  “We memorized them easily enough, didn’t we?” Khal said harshly. “In any case, that is beside the point. I have expressly forbidden her to have anything to do with that man, and she disobeyed me.” The sheikh's mouth set in a cruel line as he remembered how furious and betrayed he had felt when Luke showed him the tabloids.

  She had promised, dammit!

  Raj chose his next words with caution, with his friend looking more like the warlords of the old than a modern-day sheikh who ruled from a fairytale castle. “Obedience is sweeter when earned and given freely, Khal. Forgive the girl, and allow her to learn that the obedience you demand is not to take away her freedom but to protect her.”

  “Even if I forgive her, it may not be enough to change her fate,” Khal said bitterly. “If I do not find a way to resolve this nightmare she’s created, she may just have to marry Sheikh Mik'hail or be banished from the kingdom forever.”

  The Apology

  The door to the sheikh's private suite was open. Through the sliver of space, I was able to see the sheikh, still seated behind his desk. If I wasn’t mistaken, he had been signing contracts for the past twenty minutes.

  I tapped the soldier stationed outside the door. “Jack?” I whispered.

  “Yes, Lady Ella?” he whispered even while he remained in his post, eyes straight, back stiff, and legs braced apart like he was ready for a battle any second.

  “Has he just come back?”

  A pause.

  “He’s been back since this morning, Lady Ella.”

  “Oh.” My gaze strayed back to the door. “Jack?” I whispered again.

  “Yes, milady?”

  “Do you think he’s still mad at me because of the tabloid thing?”

  “I will pray that he’s not, milady,” the soldier answered tactfully.

  My shoulders slumped, knowing it meant Jack thought the sheikh was still mad at me. And who could blame him?

  Just get it over with, Ella, I urged myself as I paced in front of the sheikh's study, still in my uniform since I had rushed here the moment I learned from Luke that the sheikh was back.

  I caught sight of my reflection on the oval mirror hanging on the wall opposite the sheikh's room.

  Just two words, Ella, I told my mirror image.

  Two words and you could finally get to speak with the sheikh again.

  Giving myself a count to three, I took a deep breath then positioned myself in front of the door, in full view of the sheikh.

  I opened my mouth—-

  Inside the room, the sheikh stirred in his seat, his head about to lift—-

  My courage fled.

  I quickly moved away from the door, my nerves shot to hell.

  Had he seen me?

  What if he did?

  Would he tell the soldier outside his room to give me the boot?

  When seconds passed, and the sheikh remained inside, I allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief.

  My courage back to level zero, I started pacing again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But even as I rehearsed my two-word speech in my mind, I couldn’t help wallowing in self-pity.

  Two weeks.

  That had been the length of time the sheikh and I hadn’t spoken. The first few days I had told myself I could wait it out until his temper cooled. But then a week had passed, and the withdrawal pangs had just gotten worse.

  Eventually, the truth of my feelings had become undeniable.

  I missed him.

  I missed him so badly that sleep eluded me every night while memories of our time together haunted my mind. Everywhere I looked, he was there, the sheikh's image in my mind taunting me of what I had and lost.

  The sensible part of me told me that this distance between us should be a good thing. If I used this time wisely, I could wean myself off him and put an end to my forbidden feelings.

  But the not-so-sensible part of me?

  It just missed him.

  Badly.

  Wringing my hands, I started pacing faster, ignoring the odd looks that the soldier occasionally sent my way—-

  “Lady Ella.”

  Shit.

  I whirled around and my heart jumped in my throat when I saw the sheikh, leaning against the doorway, one eyebrow arched in question. He looked like he had stepped right out of a fashion shoot, with his elegant hand-sewn Italian suit and shoes.

  “Do you have something to say?”

  I did...but not when he looked that perfect...and indifferent. The words stuck in my throat, I could only look at the sheikh. He gazed back at me, his handsome face unreadable.

  Suddenly remembering that I had neglected to curtsy, I picked up my skirts, red faced. Just as I bent down, I heard the sheikh speak, “Follow me inside, Lady Ella.”

  When I looked up, the sheikh was gone.

  Straightening, I hurried into his study, anxiety threatening to rob me of my breath.

  “Take a seat.”

  As I moved forward, I heard the soldier close the door behind me, effectively leaving the sheikh and me alone.

  Or not.

  As I lowered myself to the seat the sheikh had indicated, I heard the door leading to his bedroom open. Surprised, I turned towards it, and my surprise turned into numb shock.

  An exotic-looking brunette had come out, naked but for the blanket wrapped around her tall, model-thin body. “Caro, I thought you were about to finish work.”

  I watched her eyes narrow at my presence before dismissing me with a lift of her chin. She continued towards the sheikh and, upon reaching him, took hold of the edges of the blanket before wrapping her arms – and the blanket – around the sheikh from behind. The position had her breasts pressing against his back, and when she whispered ‘Caro’ into his ear, she also made sure to rub her breasts up and down his back.

  The sheikh slowly looked at me.

  I couldn’t even find the strength to mask my emotions, too hurt at the intimate display between them. I tried to think about it sensibly, but my mind had shut down and my heart was crumbling into pieces. One stupid unintentional mistake, I thought painfully, and he could replace me that quickly?

  “You must have something to say to me.” The sheikh spoke in a lazy drawl, but his gaze was watchful, his posture more resembling a man in the brink of a fight rather than someone who was itching to go to bed with another woman.

  My fingers dug into my palms as I wrestled with hurt incredulity while the sheikh didn’t seem to find anything awkward or uncomfortable about having a woman twisted around him like a snake.

  I tried to beg the sheikh with my eyes. Don’t do this.

  But his gorgeous face remained cold and aloof.

  Unable to bear it, I started to stand up when I heard the sheikh ask, “Does it hurt?”

  I couldn’t believe he was asking me that. “Yes. Was that the point?”

  “Yes.” The door opened again, and I saw the other woman reappear, fully dressed this time.

  “You understand now, don’t you?” The sheikh didn’t take his gaze away from me as he spoke, not even sparing the othe
r woman a single glance even as she curtsied before leaving the room.

  Seeing her go didn’t ease the pain inside me. For all I knew, he could have told her to come back when I was gone. “Aren’t you going after her?” I challenged crossly.

  He shrugged. “I don’t give a damn where she goes.”

  “Fuck ‘em and leave ‘em—-”

  “No. Women like her, I leave alone. Women like you, I fuck.”

  His words threw me a loop, and I felt like an emotional yo-yo with all his cryptic words. “Will you just tell it to me straight?” I demanded tightly. “If you’re going out with her then just—-”

  The sheikh laughed.

  I was going out of mind with hurt and jealousy, and the sheikh had laughed at me. “Bastard.” It was all I could say without breaking down.

  But as I turned away, the sheikh said in a very casual voice, “I’m not going out with her.”

  I froze.

  “I am not going out with anyone else...but a girl named Ella.”

  Tears started running down my face.

  “A girl,” he clarified evenly, “who was idiotic enough to exchange letters with another man and think that it wouldn’t matter to me.”

  Suddenly he was clasping my shoulders from behind, and a second later, he had spun me back to face him. He cursed when he saw my tear-streaked face. “Do not cry! I will not be able to remain furious with you if you keep crying!”

  His words made me laugh and cry a little more. “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” I choked out. “I’m truly sorry I was such an idiot. I’ll never disobey you again.”

  The sheikh's lips curved. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

  I couldn’t fault him. “Then I promise to try not to disobey you again.”

  “Now, that is more plausible. However...” He stroked my face. “It doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

  “W-what?”

  “You heard me right, ukhayyah,” he said pleasantly. “You are not forgiven yet.”

  I blinked up at him in confusion. “T-then what should I do to make you forgive me?”