Love-Slave to the Sheikh

by Miranda Lee

  ‘You should not wear your grandmother’s night-clothes,’ he chided as his fingers worked their way down the six buttons. ‘You should wear satin or silk against this lovely skin of yours.’

  By the time he reached the last button, Samantha’s state of surrender had started receding, her thoughts turning fearful once more. Okay, so she wasn’t a virgin, but she might as well be. She had no idea how to make love. Or how to let herself be made love to. Certainly not by a man as experienced as Bandar. What was she supposed to do? And say?

  The truth. She had to tell him the truth.

  ‘Bandar…’

  His name came out in the smallest voice, one that vibrated with worry and tension.

  He stopped and glanced up into her eyes.

  ‘What is it?’ His voice carried impatience. Maybe he thought she was going to tell him to stop.

  ‘I’m not a virgin,’ she told him tautly. ‘But I’m not very experienced, either.’

  He stared at her for a long moment, then smiled—a long, slow, sexy smile. ‘Do not worry. I have enough experience for both of us.’

  His hands abandoned her top, leaving it hanging undone whilst he cupped her face and brought his mouth down on hers. His kiss was as soft as his lips, sipping at hers till they gasped apart. When his head lifted, a low moan escaped her lungs. Her eyes searched his, awed that he could make her feel like this so quickly: as if she would die if he didn’t kiss her again soon.

  His mouth lowered once more, this time kissing her top lip only, wetting it with his tongue and nibbling at it with his teeth. He did the same with her bottom lip before his head lifted again. By then her whole mouth felt swollen, both her lips tingling, her body taut and expectant. Her nipples had peaked under her top; her belly and thighs were tight with tension.

  His eyes held hers whilst his hands left her chin to trail down her throat, down into the valley between her breasts. Her nipples seemed to harden further in anticipation of being touched, or exposed, her heartbeat quickening further. His head lowered once more to her mouth, his tongue demanding full entry between her lips at the same time as his hands slid into the gaping top and covered her breasts.

  Oh!

  Being kissed by Bandar was exciting enough; having his palms rotate over her nipples at the same time was close to sensual overload! Her head spun, her back arched, another muffled moan echoed deep in her throat.

  His head lifted, his hands dropping away.

  ‘Wait here,’ he commanded. ‘Do not move. I will only be gone for a few moments.’

  She did move, shivering and shaking as a violent shudder rippled all through her.

  He was as quick as his promise, returning to the room with the duvet from her bed, spreading it out on the floor in front of the fire before straightening it and smiling ruefully over at her.

  ‘Not the king-sized bed I would prefer,’he said. ‘But we should be warm and comfortable enough.’

  Samantha didn’t think being warm was going to be a problem. She was already on fire.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, from where he was standing beside the duvet.

  She walked towards him like a robot, her loose pyjama top moving with each step she took, bringing an acute awareness of her near-painful erect nipples. His black eyes raked over her as she approached, his gaze possessive and almost smug.

  When she reached him, his hands lifted to stroke her hair back from where some had fallen around her face.

  ‘I like your hair down,’ he murmured, bending to kiss her lightly on the mouth once more. ‘But I do not like these clothes you are wearing. I am going to remove them. Do not be afraid.’

  Afraid? Was it fear sending her heartbeat wild? Or the most incredible excitement?

  Samantha sucked in a deep breath when he peeled the top open, then paused to study her naked chest. His gaze was unreadable, giving her no indication if he liked what he was seeing. She had no reason to be ashamed of her body, but who was to say what Bandar liked or preferred? Maybe he was turned on by huge breasts and softly rounded bellies. Maybe he didn’t like her well-toned stomach or her B-cup breasts?

  After what felt like an eternity, he pushed the top back off her shoulders, releasing it so that it slid down her arms onto the floor. The pyjama pants followed suit, leaving her standing before him nude.

  Her shoulders squared under his gaze, her chest rising and falling as he walked around her, looking her over as if she was a slave girl on an auction block.

  Samantha found it hard to believe she was doing this. The old Samantha—the one she’d been less than a few minutes ago—would never have tolerated such a scenario. Not even in her fantasies.

  This newly surrendered Samantha was totally enthralled with the feelings running through her. She could not get enough of his eyes on her. She would have stayed standing there all night if he’d commanded her to.

  He shook his head at her after he’d encircled her for a third, exquisitely thrilling time.

  ‘No natural beauty?’ he muttered in dark tones. ‘Do you not own a mirror? If I had a harem, you would take pride of place in it. You are made for a man’s pleasure, Samantha. Formy pleasure,’ he added as he swept her up into his arms and laid her down on the duvet, scooping her hair up from the back of her head and spreading it out like a halo.

  ‘Do not move,’ he commanded as he straightened. ‘And do not close your eyes. I want you to watch me undress.’

  She watched, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed, whilst he stripped his blue top up over his head, the action leaving him naked to the waist. He was as beautifully shaped as she had known he would be: broad shoulders tapered down to a slim waist and hips, his stomach was flat and hard, his arms rippled with the lean, strong muscles a rider needed. It was his skin, however, which drew Samantha’s eyes the most. The colour of milk chocolate, and with surprisingly little body hair, it had the kind of smooth, silky texture which made you want to touch it.

  Samantha wanted to touch it. She wanted to touch him.All of him.

  She swallowed when his hands went to his trousers, unflicking the waistband. But he didn’t undo his zipper, as she’d been anticipating. He stopped and sat down on the lounge, where he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. When he stood up again, his hands hesitated once more on his zipper, his eyes thoughtful as they flicked over to her.

  ‘I presume you are not on the Pill?’ he said.

  She shook her head. No way could she tell him that she was.

  ‘No matter. I have come prepared,’ he said, and pulled a foil rectangle from his trouser pocket.

  His presumption that she would come across did not escape Samantha. But she refused to let it bother her. His arrogance and his confidence with women were exactly what she needed. Here was her older, more experienced lover: the one who would teach her all she needed to know. The one who’d force her not to fall back into bad habits.

  Already he’d given her self-esteem a huge boost. If he’d seen evidence of her attraction for him inher eyes, then she’d seen genuine admiration for her body in his. The way he’d looked at her—wasstill looking at her—made her feel as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  It washis beauty, however, which soon distracted Samantha from any thought of herself. The removal of his last two items of clothing left him as naked as she was.

  Samantha had grown up in a household of men; she had seen quite a few naked male bodies in her time. But she had never encountered one built quite like Bandar.

  Perhaps it was his state of arousal which made him seem twice the size of a normal man. Samantha swallowed as she stared at him. He reminded her of a stallion, his impressive phallus rising from its nest of dark curls, reaching up beyond his waist. The head was glistening.

  It was wet. As she was wet. She could feel the moisture between her legs, feel her body already preparing itself for him.

  By the time he lay down next to her, protection in place, she was trembling.

  ‘How many men have you been
with?’ he asked, whilst his hands started running up and down her body.

  ‘Not many,’ she returned huskily. ‘And none like you.’ No wonder he didn’t sleep with virgins!

  His smile reached his eyes. ‘Do not flatter me just so you can get me into your bed.’

  His wittiness made her smile. ‘I never flatter men,’ she countered, quite truthfully.

  ‘I can believe that. But perhaps we should not talk. Not till afterwards.’

  Samantha quickly realised why all those mares had stood so submissively for him. He had the hands of an angel…Or a devil.

  Her body vibrated under his touch, the blood charging round her veins. Finally his head lowered, but not to her mouth this time—to her breasts.

  A startled cry punched from her throat when his lips closed over her nipple.

  This was something Samantha had never experienced. Her university bedmates hadn’t bothered much with foreplay. But she’d often imagined how it might be to have a lover do this.

  It was nothing like she’d imagined. Because Bandar seemed to be one of only a small number of men who could do two things at the same time. As he licked and sucked on her breast, his right hand slid between her legs, his thumbpad lightly caressing her, whilst his long fingers slipped inside her.

  ‘Oh!’ she cried out.

  His head lifted from her breast to cover her mouth, smothering any further cries. His hand continued its delicious torment, his fingers and tongue moving in parallel penetration. His right leg pushed between her knees, easing her legs apart. She could feel his erection against her thigh, feel him begin to move his body rhythmically against hers. It excited her, his moving like that. Everything excited her. But especially his fingers and thumb. The pleasure they evoked became almost unbearable, her belly tightening and her thighs quivering. Suddenly she wanted to struggle, to scream out loud, to express her frustration.

  His leg retreated abruptly. So did his mouth, and his hands rolled her over so that her back was to him. Before she could protest, a large palm splayed over her stomach, pressing her back into him, curving her spine and bringing her bottom upwards. She felt his hard body curve around hers, felt him move himself down between her buttocks till he reached where his fingers had been, sliding up inside her with surprising ease.

  Samantha sucked in sharply when he rolled her face-down onto the duvet, then scooped her lower half up onto her knees. As she went to lift her upper body onto her hands, he pressed her shoulders back down, and her arms slid out in front of her and her head dropped.

  ‘Keep your head down,’ he commanded, when she went to lift it once more. ‘You will like it like this. Trust me.’

  Trust didn’t come into it by that stage. She was his to command; his to position this way and that; his to take as he pleased.

  The feeling of utter submission to his will excited Samantha. His hands grasped her hips, holding her firmly whilst he began to rock back and forth inside her, slowly at first, his flesh not withdrawing too far from her before he thrust forward again, burying himself in her to the hilt.

  She could hear his heavy breathing. Or was that her own?

  The moans were definitely hers.

  He stopped at one stage, his hands releasing her hips to run up and down her spine. He bent over her, brushing aside her hair and kissing her neck. No, not kissing, exactly. More like sucking. She cried out when he began to bite her, shuddering with both pain and pleasure. She heard him mutter something she didn’t understand.

  He grabbed at her hips again and started to thrust, much more roughly. Samantha’s nails scraped back and forth across the duvet as the sensations he was creating in her body began to build. Everything inside her grew tighter and tighter. Her muscles stiffened, squeezing Bandar, trying to hold him still. At the same time she craved for him to do it even faster, and harder. Anything to release her from this torment. Soon, she could not bear any more. Her mouth opened to plead, or to protest, when suddenly the first spasm struck.

  Samantha had read about orgasms. But reading about them had not prepared her for the reality of the experience. Everything which had been building inside her simply burst, like a dam. The pleasure swept through her in waves, tidal in force to begin with. But gradually they lessened in impact, till the waves lapped quite gently at her, making her sigh with the most amazing feelings of satisfaction and content.

  Only when her body become like a millpond did Samantha realise that all awareness of what had been happening with Bandar had ceased from the beginning of her own climax. She had no idea if he had come—had not felt anything but her own blinding pleasure.

  His firm grip on her hips remained, but his body had stilled, his breathing heavy and ragged.

  When he withdrew abruptly, her lower half collapsed onto the duvet like a house of cards. All her limbs had gone limp; her head was like lead. It took the most enormous effort to turn her face enough to glance over her shoulder at him. He was sitting back on his haunches, his hands gripping his knees. His eyes, when they connected with hers, seemed oddly frustrated.

  Her stomach contracted. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ she asked, rolling over and pulling some of the duvet over her. Maybe hehadn’t come? How would she know?

  ‘Of course not,’ he returned brusquely, his hands lifting to rake his hair back from his forehead. ‘If I were a sheikh of the olden days I would buy you at once for my harem.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Absolutely. You have the makings of a perfect little love-slave. I want nothing more but to stay here with you for hours. Unfortunately, I have to go back to the house. I can feel a headache coming on. I must take my medication or I will be totally useless tomorrow—which I do not want to be,’ he said, his eyes locking with hers. ‘I will make love to you more than once next time, Samantha. I promise.’

  She shivered under his glittering gaze. And the excitement of his promise.

  ‘Have…have you always suffered from headaches?’ she asked as he got to his feet and began scooping up his clothes.

  ‘They are a recent development. I will be all right if I take my medication quickly enough. Now, point me to your bathroom. I must hurry.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SAMANTHAstayed curled up in the duvet in front of the fire after Bandar had gone. Her body felt totally relaxed, but her mind did not take long to rev up again, finding all sorts of complications.

  Just when and where would their affair take place? He could not keep coming down to her cottage. The staff at the stud would cotton on. This was the country, not the big, bad city. Things were quickly noticed here and talked about. The men would lose respect for her and her working life would become very difficult indeed.

  Her intention to quit her position at the stud at the end of June made no difference. The horsey world in Australia was not that large. Everyone knew everyone. A good reputation was important. At least it was to Samantha. A lot of the girl grooms slept around, and she’d heard what the men said about them. She couldn’t bear to have herself gossiped about that way.

  Visiting Bandar up at the main house was out of the question for the same reasons. Staff would see her car parked outside late into the night and start asking questions.

  Then there was the problem of Cleo.

  Samantha supposed she could tell her about Bandar, and then have Cleo sneak her into Bandar’s bedroom without anyone else finding out. But Samantha cringed at that idea. Perhaps because she knew Cleo could never keep a secret. Or probably because she just didn’t want to see the incredulous look on Cleo’s face.

  She still felt somewhat incredulous herself. What was it about her which Bandar liked so much? He’d claimed she’d aroused and intrigued him from the start. Why was that?

  The only thing she could think of was that she’d stood up to him a couple of times. Maybe strong women turned him on.

  Not that she’d proved all that strong in the end. She’d been like putty in his hands tonight. Samantha shivered at the memory of her total subser
vience to his will. He’d ordered and she’d obeyed.

  He was right. She did have the makings of a perfect little love-slave. For him, anyway. She would have to find some will-power before tomorrow, or she’d be agreeing to move into his bedroom and to hell with what everyone thought!

  The morning found Samantha still curled up in the duvet. Great sex sure made a girl sleep soundly, she thought as she yawned and stretched. How fabulous did she feel! This was what she’d been missing all these years. This was what her girlfriends had often raved about.

  And why, maybe, some women got mixed up with the wrong men.

  Because they were good in bed.