Uncorked for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 14)

by Annabelle Winters

  So Zameer clenched his jaw and returned her focused gaze, his grimace turning into a tight smile as he touched the bulb of that oversized cork to her rear entrance, carefully twisted it, and then began to push it in.

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, her eyes rolling up in her head as her anus tightened in reflex. “I don’t think it’s gonna . . . oh, God!”

  Her lips quivered as the Sheikh pushed the big head of the cork past her tight rear pucker, and with a gasp she opened up and took it. Zameer stared at the smooth cork firmly lodged in her ass, and he smiled and smacked her buttocks gently as she settled down and finally opened her eyes again.

  “I can’t even . . . oh, God, Zameer. That feels so . . . so . . .”

  She didn’t finish her sentence, but the Sheikh could barely hear anything besides the buzz of arousal that was making his head spin. He stroked his cock until it stood up ramrod straight, walking over to where he saw a footstool standing against the wall-shelving. He kicked the stool over to the counter, still stroking himself as Nat watched, her eyes narrowed, her corked ass raised, that dark space of brown curls between her legs clearly ready and waiting for him.

  The Sheikh stepped up onto the stool, looking down on the naked vintner spread wide on the glass countertop. His ran his fingers down her arched spine, smiling as she shivered under his touch. Slowly he circled the cork in her ass, tapping on it gently as she moaned in response. Then two more smacks on her ass and he lined up his cockhead with her wet slit from behind, rubbing himself against her until he felt her open up for him, sensed her warmth call to him, watched her wetness ooze down his shaft until she had coated him with her juice in preparation.

  “Condom,” she whispered as the Sheikh began to push into her.

  “I need to feel you from the inside,” he muttered as he watched his thick shaft begin to disappear into her. “I will pull out.”

  He knew it was a bad idea the moment he said it, but he was too far gone. This woman was taking him to the edge and beyond, and he’d only just met her. There had been no shortage of women who would do anything the Sheikh asked, but although this woman was giving in to him, she was also playing him in a way that excited Zameer to the point where he was irresistibly drawn to her.

  Nat began to say something, but the blood pounded in the Sheikh’s ears and he knew he wasn’t stopping, wasn’t pulling back, perhaps wasn’t even pulling out. He no longer gave a damn about anything but the feeling of her hot inner walls pressing against his hard cock, and he rammed himself in all the way, grabbing her love-handles and looking down as he took in the ecstasy of the moment.

  “Ya Allah,” he muttered as he heard her scream from the force of his entry. Her voice sounded distant but somehow close, and Zameer smiled and closed his eyes as he began to pump. “You are mine now, Ms. Norwood.”

  “For one week,” she gasped from beneath him, and the Sheikh opened his eyes and almost laughed as he watched her body convulse from the way he was already pounding into her.

  “That will be my decision,” he said without thinking, forcing himself to block out the madness of what was happening here, of the situation this woman had pulled him into. He was fucking her without a condom after she’d clearly told him she wasn’t on birth control. He had given her his word that he would at least consider having an open mind for the time they spent together. And now he’d just said that he’d consider spending more than a week with her! This thing was unraveling his life, he thought, almost laughing out loud because it felt so far from reality. He felt the arousal escalate as his balls tightened in preparation, his cock flexed inside her, his muscular ass clenched as he pumped her with everything he had.

  Nat was holding on to the edge of the countertop, her knees placed wide as she spread and held on for dear life. She screamed and tensed up every time the Sheikh pushed back into her, but she took everything he gave, and he could tell from the way she was pushing back against him that she was as lost in the moment as he was. He pressed down on her lower back and flexed his cock inside her, angling it upwards and gyrating his hips, and he felt her come again as he tapped on the wine-cork and watched her buttocks flex as she wailed in pleasure.

  “What’s happening,” she moaned as the Sheikh turned the cork in her ass and slowed down his frantic drive as he took her through her climax and prepared for his own final explosion.

  “I do not know,” the Sheikh grunted, speeding up again, his heavy balls slapping against her as he looked down at the magnificent sight of his brown cock emerging and then disappearing back beneath her splayed out asscheeks, deep into her cunt. “But I am about to come like I have never come before, and it is only the first day.”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned as he felt her pussy clench around his swollen shaft. He could tell she was still coming, and the thought brought him so close to the edge he knew he was going over, that there was no prolonging the inevitable. “Make sure you . . .”

  “Yes, I will pull out,” he grunted as he kept pumping, beads of sweat rolling down his hard chest and rippling abdomen. “Just a little longer. Just a moment more. Just—”

  Then suddenly the doorbell sounded behind them, and “Ya 'iilhaa!” came the voice—a shrill, piercing voice that the Sheikh recognized instantly because it had given him a headache just a few days ago when he’d made her scream in his office. It was Laila, and the Sheikh whipped his head around in shock and anger, the thought passing through his mind that he would have both her and his security detail beheaded for the unacceptable intrusion. But his mind was a mess from where his attraction to Nat had taken him, and by the time he turned his head it was too late. He was coming, hard and with power. He was coming, and there was no way he was stopping.

  “Ya Allah,” he groaned, his head half-turned as his eyes rolled up in his head. He felt his balls tighten as they delivered his load deep into Nat’s warm cavern, his cock flexing and pumping his semen into her like an unstoppable river breaking through its dam.

  “Zameer!” Nat screamed, her ass clenching as she tried to pull herself away from him. But the Sheikh simply tightened his grip on her sides, his fingers digging deep into her soft flesh as his body twitched almost involuntarily from the overwhelming orgasm.

  He raised his right hand and brought it down hard on her ass, the slap almost drowning out Laila’s voice. “Ha 'ana atiatun!” he roared, not sure who he was talking to as he pushed out the last of his royal semen, his muscular neck arching back. “Get out! Out!”

  But Laila stood there behind the naked couple, and when the Sheikh pulled out and turned to her, his body shaking with anger, his eyes ablaze with rage, she simply crossed her arms over her tight chest and looked into his eyes coolly in a way that made the Sheikh think he had severely misjudged how problematic that meaningless encounter might become.

  “My apologies for the intrusion, Sheikh Zameer,” she said, bowing her head slightly but keeping her eyes locked on his. “But it is urgent. Siddiqui’s plane did not land in Ladaak. He is in Saudi Arabia, and he has issued a public statement saying that your claim to the throne of Ladaak is illegitimate, that you sabotaged your own brother to claim the throne. Saudi Arabia has agreed to impose sanctions against Ladaak until there is an independent investigation, and it appears that most of the other Middle Eastern kingdoms will follow their lead.”

  The Sheikh stood there naked, his back straight, his long cock still throbbing as it dripped semen onto the floorboards. But Zameer did not give a damn. He was so angry he could barely think straight. “Since when did you become my political advisor?” he growled. “It is not your job to deliver messages to me. And it is not my security detail’s job to decide what messages are urgent enough that they violate protocol and let unannounced visitors into my presence. Now get out before I throw you out. Out!”

  13

  Out, came the thought as Nat got off the counter and grabbed her dress from the floor, staying beh
ind the counter until Laila had left the room. But she wasn’t thinking of Laila. She was thinking of the Sheikh’s semen running down the insides of her thighs.

  Out, she thought again, clenching her pussy as she felt his warm seed flow out of her. Her head was still spinning from the madness of what had just gone down, her body still shaking from what seemed like multiple orgasms that had blended into one long climax. She knew it was too late, that it was dumb to think she could simply push his semen out of her, that human biology didn’t work that way. She’d screwed up, and it was all her fault. Three years of being a good girl, and now she was in danger of being knocked up by a man who in no realistic scenario would want a child with her. A man who clearly went through women like it was a sport, a hobby, a game. She’d been willing to play this game with him—though perhaps not so soon, and not so hard. But the chance of getting pregnant?! That was another game altogether. Hell, that wasn’t even a game! It was a game changer!

  Nat’s mind raced as she tried to count the days since her last period. Shit, she was in the middle of her cycle, which meant the chances were reasonably high that one of the Sheikh’s swimmers had gotten through to the holy land. What would happen if that happened? Would he ask her to have an abortion? Would he call her a slut in public and refuse to acknowledge that the baby was his? Would he hire private investigators to put together a list of every guy she’d ever banged and put out a full-page ad in the Times so the world would know she was a slut and a whore and couldn’t be believed when she claimed she’d been knocked up by a Sheikh? Would he sit on his throne ten-thousand miles away and laugh at any American court-order for a paternity test? Would he have her killed and buried in her own vineyard?

  You don’t know anything about him, you moron. What the hell were you thinking inviting him here?! For a moment she wanted to blame Peggy, that four-eyed self-righteous bitch with her husband and kids and spreadsheets and logic. But in the end there was no one to blame but herself, and she swallowed hard and put on her dress and blinked as the Sheikh turned to her, his face still red with anger.

  “I apologize. She will be disciplined for the intrusion. I promise you,” he said. He was still naked, his cock still half-erect, a heavy bead of white semen oozing from its tip as he faced her without a hint of shame or self-consciousness.

  Nat nodded, not sure what to say. Only now did her frazzled brain begin to process what Laila had said, and she frowned and took a breath. “Sounds like you’ve got some problems to deal with,” she said, blinking as she tried not to look at his glistening nakedness, those rock-hard abs, those granite-slabs of chest muscle, shoulders that looked like they could lift a semi-truck. She glanced at his thick cock once more, blinking three times as her breath caught from the memory of how it had felt inside her, how its girth had stretched her so wide, how its discharge had filled her so—

  “A king always has problems to deal with,” the Sheikh said. “And they will all be dealt with in due course. Now, where were we before the unforgiveable interruption?”

  Nat’s eyes widened, and she cocked her head and crossed her arms over her chest as she tried to figure out if Zameer was being serious. But she couldn’t quite read him. He certainly looked serious. He sure as hell sounded serious. He’d calmed down almost completely from the explosive anger she’d seen him direct at Laila. Who was this guy? Did he really have total control over his emotions, or was he a manic, unpredictable beast who couldn’t be trusted?

  “You were about to pull out,” Nat said, her body tingling as she said it without thinking—just like so many other things she’d said to this man without thinking. “And then you didn’t.”

  She watched as Zameer took a long breath, his green eyes focusing on her belly for a moment before he looked back into her eyes. He blinked once, and then he simply grunted and turned away, grabbing his trousers from the floor and pulling them on without any underwear.

  Nat realized she hadn’t bothered to pull on her underwear either, and it was only then that she felt the cork . . . the cork that was still firmly lodged between her asscheeks.

  “No,” the Sheikh said as Nat began to reach beneath her dress from behind. “It stays in. What I want, when I want, how I want. One week. Or do you want me to shut you down today?”

  Nat stared in disbelief at the Sheikh. If what Laila had said was true, Zameer had some kind of national crisis to deal with. There was some doubt he was the legitimate ruler of his kingdom. There was something about sabotaging his brother. This Siddiqui character was clearly out to get him. Perhaps Laila too, and the Sheikh was . . . what was the Sheikh doing?

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I can’t possibly walk around with this thing in me for a week!”

  The Sheikh shrugged. “It may not be a week. But I will decide when it is time for you to be uncorked.”

  Nat laughed. “I don’t think that’s a word, really. Uncorked.”

  “Are you making fun of my English? I spent four years at Cambridge, you know.”

  “No wonder your English is so bad,” she quipped.

  “Then I will speak only in Arabic,” he shot back without missing a beat. “Urid 'an 'umaris aljins maeak fi almukhirati.”

  “Ureed mariss almookhiradee!,” she repeated, smiling as she stepped around the counter, the sensation of the cork in her butt making her strangely aroused as she moved.

  The Sheikh leaned his head back and laughed. “Ya Allah, I would rather hear you laugh at my English than deal with the pain of listening to your pronunciation of my beautiful language. Come now. It is time for the tour.”

  “Tour?”

  “Yes, the grand tour! Show me around this magnificent property that I now own. Convince me to abandon my morals, the rules of my faith, and my personal oath so you can continue to poison the world with intoxicants that make people weak and stupid.”

  Nat smiled and shook her head. “OK, that’s prejudice, plain and simple. Passing judgment on something before experiencing it for yourself.”

  The Sheikh took a breath, his eyes narrowing. “What makes you think I have not experienced it for myself?”

  Nat frowned as she played back his words in her head. “So then you have experienced the wonders of wine first-hand?”

  Zameer slowly reached for his shirt and pulled it on, nodding without making eye contact. When he did look at her, Nat thought she saw tears in his eyes, along with a faraway look. “Yes. Though whiskey and vodka were my drinks of choice.” He blinked and looked down as he buttoned his shirt in silence, tucking it in as Nat watched.

  The scene reminded her of when she’d first seen the Sheikh, tucking in his shirt as he emerged from the back rooms of his office after fucking his assistant or office-manager or whatever the hell Laila was to him. Be careful, Nat thought as she studied his handsome face, that strong jawline, high cheekbones, deep green eyes. This man can hurt you if you let him get too close. This man will hurt you if you let him get too close.

  So what’s “too close” Nat wondered as she shifted on her feet, that cork still firmly lodged in her rear. What if he turns and walks away right now? How would I feel?

  I’d be fine with it, Nat told herself as the Sheikh buckled his belt and grinned at her, winking once as if everything was just peachy, as if an angry ex-lover of his hadn’t just stormed in and said something about his country being sanctioned by Saudi Arabia and the other Arab nations for something the Sheikh was accused of doing to his brother.

  “You have a brother?” she asked, stepping towards the door as the Sheikh slipped on his thousand-dollar Italian loafers and pulled the door open.

  The Sheikh’s breath caught, and he nodded once, his eyes narrowing. “Let us walk, yes? Show me the fields where you grow the evil grape.”

  Nat laughed. “The evil grape? We’re being a little dramatic, aren’t we?”

  “Perhaps,” the Sheikh said as Nat led him alon
g the stone pathway that led to a vantage point from where they could see the vineyard laid out in front of them. “But you do understand that alcohol is forbidden in my religion.”

  Nat nodded. “So you’re a religious man?”

  “Do you doubt that?”

  Nat shrugged. “I’ve no reason to doubt that about you personally. But I do have my suspicions about people in general who suddenly find religion and use it as an excuse to make dramatic changes in their lives.”

  “But if the changes are for the better, is that not a good thing?” the Sheikh asked. He turned to her as they walked, his green eyes flashing, a half-smile breaking on his dark red lips. “Also, are you implying that I suddenly found religion?”

  “Sure, if the changes are for the better I got no problem with that,” Nat said, smiling and nodding. “As for your second question, you said it yourself, didn’t you? You said you used to drink, and now you’re saying things like the evil grape and how Allah will strike you down if you even have an indirect association with the production and distribution of alcohol. That sounds like a pretty extreme change of heart, I’d say. And I’m certainly no expert in any religion, let alone Islam, but it seems like you might be overextending the rules of your faith by shutting down my vineyard.”

  “My vineyard,” the Sheikh said, smiling along with her, his hand sliding around her waist in a familiar way that sent a tingle through Nat’s body. “Is this it?”

  They’d stopped at the crest of a bluff overlooking the main vineyard, and Nat nodded as she looked down at the perfect rows of grape vines. “Pinot to the left. Merlot to the right. And—”

  “Here I am, stuck in the middle with you,” sang the Sheikh, twirling Nat around and dipping her as she laughed in surprise.

  “OK, clearly you don’t need alcohol to act drunk,” she said, still laughing as the Sheikh pulled her back upright like she was a feather.