by Nadia Aidan
Amir crushed his lips to Daniella’s before she could finish whatever she’d been on the verge of saying. It didn’t matter because he’d already heard enough, or rather he’d heard all he needed to.
He ripped his mouth from hers just long enough for him to reclaim his breath and rasp, “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
Three small, simple words. He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. No other words had ever left him this shaken, or overwhelmed him more. He’d never allowed himself to believe she returned his feelings, so he’d never thought he would ever hear her say those words.
“Marry me,” he blurted when finally his breathing evened.
She stared at him wide-eyed for maybe a second before she smiled. “Yes.”
If she’d been on the verge of saying anything else, she never got the chance. He claimed her mouth once more, this time determined not to stop until he had her naked, and with her legs spread beneath him.
It was a small, quaint cabin, so it took only seconds before he ushered them into the lone bedroom. His hands trembled as he peeled her clothing from her body until she stood naked before him. His heart clenched as he drank all of her in. Every inch of her was lush. Her breasts were fuller, her hips wider, and of course her belly swelled where his son now rested. He ached to touch her but with all the time that had passed he was certain he would spurt before he could even get inside of her hot body.
With an urgency he’d never displayed before, he ripped his off his clothes. The intensity of his scrutiny must have made her self-conscious because she moved to wrap her arms around herself.
“Don’t,” he barked. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, it hurts. I never thought it possible but you are even more beautiful now.” With one stride, he once again had her back in his arms. He tumbled them to the bed, careful to keep the full weight of his body off of her.
“Fuck, I want you so bad.” He settled between her legs, groaning when she locked them behind his back. The tip of his cock pressed against her opening and he shuddered at the feel of her wet heat scorching him. Clenching his eyes shut, he buried his face within the crook of her neck while he struggled to breathe.
“I want to be gentle and taken it slow, but I want you so bad—“
“Don’t,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Her thighs dug into him and she lifted her hips, causing the tip of his dick to slip inside the tightest, wettest pussy he’d ever fucked.
He cursed as he called her name.
“You can’t hurt me.”
“But the baby—“
“He’s fine.” She chuckled softly. “Pregnant women have been fucking for ages. So shut up, stop stalling, and fuck me.”
He still hesitated, but when she rocked her hips again, forcing him deeper inside her, he lost it.
With a single stroke he drove home, a shudder escaping him as her cunt wrapped around him like a wet, velvet vise. It had been so long, he could already feel that familiar throbbing in his balls. He struggled to regain a measure of control, as he fought to control her, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass. But he could not still the movements of her body. She rocked her hips, until he was the one being taken by her.
He called her name in warning.
“Fuck me,” she moaned, her body echoing her words, as she fucked him harder, faster.
A roar escaped him. Whatever little control he’d had, vanished. Whatever thoughts he’d had of being gentle and going slow, were no more.
He slammed into her, causing her pussy to seize around him as she let out a scream.
“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” she begged, when he stilled, thinking he’d hurt.
Before he could thrust again, she went wild beneath him, clawing at his back as her thighs gripped him harder. Encouraged by her screams, he nailed her harder, his balls slapping against the lips of her pussy. They practically broke the bed as he drilled into her hot cunt until an orgasm so powerful ripped through her she literally clamped down around his dick until he couldn’t move.
It was too much.
“Fuck, Daniella. I’m coming.” The words were barely out his mouth when another tremor rocked her causing her to fist his dick, grasping and gripping him as her wet heat drenched him. He hammered into her once, twice, a final time and then he exploded with a primal roar. Cum shot out of his dick, coating her walls as she greedily milked him of his seed.
His body quaked as she trembled beneath him, and it was a long while before their breathing evened. When it did, he flung himself down beside her, pulling her flush against him.
Exhausted, sleep quickly claimed them, but when they woke, he took her again, and then again, well into the night, stopping only to eat. By daybreak of the following day, they were both spent, and it was only their physical exhaustion that prevented them from doing it again. Had he the strength, he would have made love to her until somehow he made up for the four months they’d been apart. Never again, he vowed, as he gazed down into her perfect heart shape face while she slept. Never again would he allow anyone or anything to tear them apart, not until death claimed them. And even then, he knew his soul would find hers again.
With the sun just breaking over the horizon, Amir allowed his eyes to drift closed, as sleep began to settle over him. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he would affirm his permanent place in her life and make her his wife—as soon as he found a judge who wouldn’t mind performing the rushed nuptials. And as soon as she was ready, he would return to Sharjah, with his new bride, and their son.
Even in sleep, he wore a contented smile, and his last thoughts were of the irony of his predicament. She’d once protested that she was his slave, when all along, it was him. He’d taken her body, but in turn she’d captured his heart, and with it she’d forever enslaved the Sheikh.
Excerpt from Nadia Aidan’s Possessed by the Sheikh—Coming November 2014
The Sheikhs of the al-Aziz family thought I was a spoiled, pampered princess, and to some extent, I was. But the truth was I went out of my way to be difficult, acting so obnoxious, so insufferable that the reigning Sheik, Amir al-Aziz, would have no choice but to call off our betrothal, and it had worked, or so I’d thought. I should have known he would see right through my bitch act. Even if it hadn’t been an act, and I truly was the bitch everyone believed me to be, I’d learned the hard, painful, heartbreaking lesson—that when Sheikh Khalil al-Aziz wanted something, or someone, nothing could ever serve as a deterrent.
I loved my father, more than anything and anyone in this world. So I couldn’t tell him that I hated the idea of marrying Amir, and that I wanted to be free to choose the man I loved, one who loved me in return. To end my betrothal would bring shame and disgrace upon my family. My sisters would be shunned, and it would break my father’s heart. Hurting my family was something I could never do. So when Amir made the decision to call off our engagement, I was elated. I’d done my duty and now I was free, until he’d shown up and delivered the crushing news. I was still betrothed, just not to Amir. The blow was far worse this time than it had been when my father had told me the truth of my fate when I was eighteen. And not because I’d thought I was free of the shackles of my family’s noble status, and Sharjah’s antiquated traditions, but because I was now betrothed to Khalil.
He knew how I loathed him, how I hated him. I could never marry him. Fifteen years had passed and I still wasn’t over it. Fifteen years, and I still wasn’t over him.
When he’d called to arrange a meeting through my assistant, I’d only agreed because I was certain he was going to tell me what I already expected. Amir was going to marry his professor and I was out. Good for them, I was truly happy for them, although I knew better than to show it.
When he arrived, I had my assistant, Laila, escort him to our conference room, where I joined him a few minutes later. I was a successful patent attorney. Educated in the States, I worked with scientists not just in the Gulf but all over the world to patent medica
l innovations.
When I entered the room, I found him staring at the wall where the awards and achievements I’d accumulated over the past several years were now displayed. I could tell he was surprised and impressed. Yes, the spoiled, selfish, seemingly shallow Sabeen al-Mujaher and her little firm, which I’d built from nothing, all on my own, without my father’s help or money, was a success. It was all I could do to keep the smug grin off my face.
Fifteen years ago he’d accused me of being a spoiled, airhead heiress and probably rightfully so. I’d been eighteen, had yet to leave for college, so admittedly my world view had been pretty small, but that didn’t mean I’d deserved what he’d then done to me, or the lesson he’d so cruelly taught me. That didn’t mean I would amount to nothing, as he’d accused, or that I would turn out to be a vapid socialite wife as he’d believed. But even if it seemed as if that was the path I was set upon, that didn’t mean I’d deserved to be treated as if I was nothing, as if I didn’t matter.
He turned and faced me then, and that familiar resentment gnawed inside my belly, along with another feeling, that was equally familiar. Longing.
I hated myself that I still wanted him, that my body still trembled whenever his darkly, lashed eyes settled upon me, although it had been a long while since his gaze had done anything more than stare right through me.
Today, however, they smoldered with the same intensity that had once been the hallmark of his expression whenever he looked at me. With an arrogance that was staggering, he slid his gaze the length of my body, boldly staring, first at my breasts and then the juncture of my thighs, as if my body belonged to him, as if I belonged to him.
My jaw tightened as I struggled to make sense of the war of emotions coursing through me. Anger, indignation, and desire so strong, even I could not deny the wetness staining my panties.
Before I lost all sense, I schooled my features into a mask of indifference, and projected a confident demeanor that I didn’t quite feel. I needed to get this meeting over and done with so that I could get him the hell out of there.
“Let’s dispense with the niceties, shall we? I’m a busy woman, I have a pile of work on my desk, and let’s face it, you’re not exactly my favorite person, and we both know it.” Folding my arms across my chest, I trained my glare on him. “So just get right to it, and tell me what the hell you’re doing here, and what the hell you want?”
My words must have triggered something inside of him because his nostrils flared angrily. Within a blink of an eye, he was across the room, with his chest pressed to mine, and my back against the wall. I gasped, my palms flattening against his muscled torso. It all happened so fast I could barely register his hands against my stocking clad thighs, and then they crept higher until they were stroking my bare flesh.
I knew I was in trouble the moment I glimpsed his wolfish smile, and that lonely dimple in his cheek.
“I’m here for what I’ve always wanted, Sabeen. You.”
About Author Nadia Aidan
I am an avid reader, a fitness enthusiast, and I love debating politics. Currently, I live in Las Vegas NV where I work as a full-time professor and write whenever I have the chance. I am a multi-published author of erotic romance across many genres, from historical, to fantasy, to sci-fi and contemporary. Recently, I’ve been moving more towards penning erotica, so thank you for reading the first story in my Taboo Erotica Collection. If you enjoyed it please rate and review it! Your feedback helps me decide what I should write next. Also, feel free to connect with me at [email protected] or visit my website www.nadiaaidan.com
I love hearing from all of you!
Nadia
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Excerpt from Nadia Aidan’s Possessed by the Sheikh
About the Author