Stars for the Sheikh_A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel

by Annabelle Winters

  Logic would dictate it was the latter, would it not? After all, many sons choose to enter the professions of their fathers. Yusuf was a talented engineer—indeed, he would not have risen up the ranks of the Royal Engineers without talent. As for Rahaan’s own insistence that the new oil rig be complete in two months? Perhaps it was a son’s unconscious repetition of the way his father set aggressive deadlines. And besides, the oil-rig project was already way behind schedule, so it was not like the Sheikh was being overly aggressive. Who knew. Who the hell knew!

  Rationality, logic, trauma, parallel lives . . . ya Allah, I have had enough! I need to relax, because there will be much to deal with when I confront Alim and the woman who is spinning this latest web of madness. I need to relax and lose myself for a moment. Lose myself in my woman. Let myself be spun away in her magical web. Trust myself to her healing touch.

  After all, it is she who is the center of it, is it not, he thought as he pressed her breasts so hard she moaned, her pretty round face twisted in a grimace of pure arousal as she rose and descended upon him.

  Yes, she is the key to it all, he thought as he removed her loose black top, grasping her heavy breasts and pushing up her white satin bra. He groaned in pleasure as her boobs popped into view, and he sucked her swollen nipples until they were stiff and tight, the pink tips dark red and pebbled as he hungrily pulled on them with his lips and teeth.

  “I need you, Hilda,” he muttered as she reached down and undid his belt, rubbing his hard cock through his trousers in a way that made him dizzy. “Oh, bloody hell, I need you in a way that frightens me! By God, I need this right now!”

  “What do you need?” she whispered, her voice low and husky, eyes narrowing as she backed up off his lap and stood before him, her gaze dropping to the tremendous peak in his unbuttoned trousers. “What do you need, my king? Tell me what you need.”

  “On your knees,” he growled, the words coming out so quick he wasn’t sure if he said them. “Now. I need a release, and I need it now. Now!”

  He saw a glint of surprise, perhaps even fear whip past her eyes, but in a moment she was there with him, on her knees before him, obedient when he needed her to obey, submitting to him when he needed her to submit.

  “Undo my pants,” he said, removing his white linen shirt and tossing it across the cabin as he stretched his body on the double seat. He raised his tight buttocks off the seat so Hilda could slide his trousers down past his hips, and then he watched as she released his cock and sat back on her haunches, her eyes going wide when she saw how hard he was, how monstrous his need had grown.

  “Stroke me,” he ordered, and she rose to her knees, her naked breasts swinging forward as she reached for his massive erection.

  “Oh, God, Rahaan,” she whispered as her fingers closed around his girth, her grip barely going all the way around, he was so damn swollen and hard.

  “Silence,” he commanded. “Stroke me. Slowly, in rhythm. Ah, yes, like that. Again. A bit faster now.” His breath caught as she grasped his shaft with two hands, coating his cock with his own oozing pre-cum, her nimble fingers rubbing his dark red cock-head and gathering his sticky juice as she slicked him up in a way that made him feel so damn aggressive he wasn’t sure if he should let himself go any further.

  He leaned forward, pushing his cock against her naked breasts, smearing her pert nipples with his oozing tip as she lowered her head and tried to suck him.

  “Not yet,” he growled. “Suck your fingers first. Taste me from what you have gathered on your fingers. Do it now.”

  She gasped as she looked up at him, and then she looked down at herself. Her breasts glistened from the pre-cum he’d rubbed all over her, and she gathered the fresh flow from her nipples and sucked her fingers.

  He watched her do as he said, and then finally he rose, his hands grasping her head, fingers sliding into her thick brown hair. His arousal was so strong he could barely see straight. All he could feel were her hands on his body, soft hands stroking his throbbing cock, massaging his heavy balls, caressing his thighs as her breasts rubbed against his bare legs. She was on her knees before him yet as much by his side as any woman could ever be. She was powerless in his viselike grip but as powerful as any woman he’d ever known. She was strong. She was beautiful. She was his.

  She looked up from her knees as if she could read his mind, and he smiled down at her, his lips parting as he spoke the words that he knew were true but had not been uttered in this world.

  “I love you,” he groaned as he looked into her big brown eyes, his fingers tightening their grip in her hair, pulling at the roots as he struggled to hold himself back out of fear of hurting her. “By God, I love you, Hilda.”

  He waited for her response, groaning again as she jerked him back and forth, massaging his balls and rubbing his shaft. Then she looked up from her knees, her head held firm in his grip. She looked up at him and said, “I know.”

  “I know,” she said again with a smile. Then she opened her mouth wide and took him in, all the way in, all the goddamn way.

  43

  She starting sucking him immediately, reveling in the way he pulled at her hair from the roots, his entire body tensed up, brown muscles hard and rigid as she went back and forth over his beast of a cock, massaging his balls as he pumped into her. Slowly they got into a feverish rhythm, his grip on her head so tight she couldn’t even turn an inch, his girth filling her mouth to the point where she could feel her lips straining from how wide she was stretched. Her breath came in short, heaving spurts through her nose, her breasts rising and falling as she sucked her king towards the release he needed.

  Her own arousal was strong but she was completely focused on him. She could sense his desperate need, feel how badly his body needed that primal release. His taste and aroma surrounded her, invaded her, overwhelmed her, its clean, heavy musk intoxicating her as she tasted his juice, rolled her tongue along his throbbing shaft, swallowed her own saliva mixed with his clear pre-cum as he flexed and groaned, pumped and thrust, driving deep into her mouth, into her open throat as she struggled to stay on her knees and control his power.

  Hilda could feel the wetness dripping out the sides of her mouth as she sucked, and she pressed her lips down hard against his cock to make the seal tighter so she could suck him harder, like a king should be sucked when he asks for it.

  “Ya Allah!” he roared as she clamped her lips tighter around his cock, her jaw in agony from how wide she was forced to make her mouth. “By God, I am mad with lust, insane with arousal, delirious with desire! What are you doing to me, Hilda. What are you doing!”

  He shouted the last word out, and just then she felt his balls seize and tighten in her hands. His cock flexed inside her mouth, and he let out a deep, guttural sound as he pulled her hair so hard her eyes went wide. Then he pushed himself into her mouth as deep as he could go, until his balls were against her chin, her throat wide open for his swollen head, ready to receive his warm load.

  And then he came.

  He came, he came, he came, the explosion surreal and slow, like a fresh geyser blasting up from the ocean floor, flooding the calmness with a violent injection of heat.

  “Ya Allah!” he roared as he poured his semen down her throat, the entire airplane seeming to vibrate with the force of his orgasm, the intensity of his release, the power of his desire.

  See, I can take you there too, my king, she thought as her entire body rocked back and forth as she squatted before him and took everything he had to give, swallowing his seed as he emptied himself down her throat, his balls seizing and clenching again and again as he poured fresh spurts of semen into her.

  He came for almost a full minute, perhaps longer, and then finally he was done, groaning one last time as he squeezed out his final discharge into her mouth before collapsing into the seat, his cock springing out past her lips as he released her.

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nbsp; Hilda fell back on her haunches and almost shrieked as she swallowed massive breaths of fresh air. She was dizzy from the exertion, wired from the experience, buzzing with both arousal and a strange sense of pride, an odd glow that seemed almost at odds with the primal, visceral scene. She could feel herself smile wide as semen and saliva trickled down the side of her mouth, and she licked her lips and started to laugh when she looked down at her bare breasts, sticky with semen, glistening with glory, shining with his seed.

  “By God, I think you just merged a billion parallel worlds with your lips,” he muttered, reaching for her even though he looked spent and worn from what she’d done to him, where she’d taken him.

  “If that’s your way of saying thank you,” she whispered, clambering to her feet and dropping her half-clothed self into the seat next to him. “Then you’re welcome.”

  “It is my way of saying I damn well love you,” said the Sheikh, turning towards her and reaching between her legs, rubbing her mound through her half-buttoned jeans before she grabbed his hand and stopped him.

  “I’m OK,” she whispered, even though she could feel her own wetness still fresh and flowing inside her panties. A part of her wanted to feel his strong fingers enter her, his heavy thumb flicking her clit as he curled his fingers and brought her to climax. But another part of her was whispering for her to hold back, to hold it in, to let it build . . . let that climax build, build, build towards the end, the end for which she’d need to fight, fight on a battleground that was between body and spirit, between this world and the next, between this world and all other worlds. “I’m OK,” she said again, nodding and smiling into his weary eyes. “Let’s get some rest, yeah? We’ve got a world of trouble to deal with when we land.”

  44

  “You are in for a world of trouble,” Rahaan said slowly and carefully to the royal couple sitting before him. “Alim, you do not know this woman like we do. You cannot even begin to understand what she is capable of doing! What she has already done!”

  It was just past noon, and the four of them were having a remarkably civilized showdown in an open courtyard within the walls of the Royal Palace of Kolah. Surrounding the courtyard were broad corridors lined with heavy sandstone pillars, dividing the massive open space into four perfect quadrangles, like a giant four-square court. Each quadrangle had a center fountain, black marble and magnificent, and the ground was unfinished sandstone speckled with old cobblestones that gave the area a strangely Mediterranean feel to it.

  They were sitting beneath a shaded gazebo, the two couples seated on hand-carved, jewel-studded benches made of fine Burma teak, facing each other, a low wooden table laden with a silver tea-set and bowls of dates, almonds, and fruit separating the two warring factions.

  Hilda studied Di’s expression when Rahaan spoke. The woman barely even flinched, and Hilda couldn’t be certain if it was because she didn’t remember beating her husband to death, or if she just didn’t care.

  Well, as far as this world goes, Di didn’t kill anyone, Hilda reminded herself as she tried to keep her head straight lest the contradictions drive her insane.

  “Hi, Hilda,” Di said abruptly, waving cheekily across the table as a desert crow glanced at the four of them from its perch on a nearby date-palm. “How was the flight? Get any sleep? Pleasant dreams, I trust?”

  “Oh, you psychotic bitch,” Hilda snarled, almost biting her tongue when she realized that Di was clearly trying to get Hilda to look like the psychotic bitch in front of Alim, who was the wildcard in this scenario. After all, how the hell were they going to even begin to explain to the simple young man that he might be a prince on paper but was a pawn in this game. And pawns get sacrificed, don’t they . . .

  Alim glanced at Hilda, blinking and quickly looking away when she turned towards him. The boy doesn’t stand a chance, she thought as she reminded herself to shut the hell up and let the Sheikh handle his brother for now.

  “OK, yes, well,” said Alim, clearing his throat and not making eye contact with anyone. “There seem to be a lot of accusations of psychosis being tossed around. That is the word you used when we spoke on the telephone, yes, Rahaan? When you explained to me that my wife has very recently . . . ah, what is the polite word . . .”

  “Murdered? Beaten to death? Bludgeoned to a bloody pulp?” Hilda offered, throwing in an eye-roll with it.

  “Hilda, I will lead this conversation with my brother,” said Rahaan smoothly as he reached over and placed his hand on her arm. “Yes?”

  But Hilda couldn’t hold back, even though she’d told herself she would. “You killed him, Di! Do you even realize . . . can you even . . . oh, God, Rahaan! Can’t you just order her to be seized and locked up in some goddamn dungeon! You’re the supreme Sheikh, aren’t you? Now that he's pretending to be married to an American too, you're the supreme Sheikh again, yes? You can just command for her to be—”

  “Actually, it is by no means clear who the supreme Sheikh of Kolah is right now,” said Alim somewhat jovially, glancing at his brother like a child expecting to be congratulated by his father for doing something precocious but clever. “The Ministry of Elders is somewhat flummoxed right now, it appears.”

  “Well, un-flummox them, Rahaan!” Hilda shouted, realizing she sounded like a spoiled child but not giving a damn. “And then lock up this blonde witch while you make Alim understand what the hell is going on.”

  “That’s it, isn’t it,” whispered Di from across the table. “You hate the fact that I’m the blonde in this story.”

  Hilda closed her eyes tight and willed herself to wake up from this dream that was part horror, part slapstick. She could feel her fingernails digging into her palms as she clenched her fists and tried counting to ten backwards. She got there, but it didn’t seem to help, and it was finally the Sheikh’s steady grip on her arm that got her to stay put and not leap across the table and punch the murdering bitch’s lights out.

  “Is she all right?” Alim asked the Sheikh with some caution, glancing fearfully towards Hilda and then back up at his brother.

  I’m right here so why don’t you ask me, Hilda wanted to growl, but there was too much wired energy in her system right now. Maybe she shouldn’t have pulled Rahaan back from getting her to climax on the flight. Maybe then she wouldn’t be the only one acting unhinged in this freakishly civilized setting in a bizarro world where truth and lies and dreams were all interchangeable.

  “Yes,” said Rahaan quickly. “It has been a long flight, and there have been some events that have been trying for all of us. I would try to explain it all, but I do not think you will understand.”

  “I will not understand, or I will not believe?” Alim said, his eyes narrowing momentarily, making him look older. “I am just the simpleton kid brother, yes? Unable to understand the complicated matters that my brother the great Sheikh deals with all the time.”

  “No, Alim,” Rahaan said, his hand leaving Hilda’s arm as he looked with concern at the angry Alim. “It is not that. Brother, I do not think even I fully understand the events of the past two months, and so I do not know how to start making you understand!”

  “It is not a question of understanding, Rahaan. Not anymore. It is a question of trust!”

  “You do not trust that I unconditionally want what is best for you?”

  Alim exhaled and folded his arms over his black sherwani coat that he wore over his traditional white robes. “Of course I trust you at that fundamental level, brother. It is just that . . . I mean, by Allah, Rahaan, you must admit that from my perspective your behavior over the past two months has been extremely . . . odd.”

  Rahaan sighed and looked away for a moment before nodding. “Perhaps. But still I must ask you to trust me right now.”

  “How can I, Rahaan! First you concoct this elaborate scheme of faking a marriage just to put me in the hotseat by making me believe I would suddenly n
eed to take over as Sheikh. Then I find out that the woman you have married is the very same astrologer who cheated me out of fifteen thousand dollars! Now this madness about Di murdering a man who is verifiably alive and well in Santa Fe!” He paused and glanced furtively over at Hilda once again before lowering his voice, as if she couldn’t hear him. “Rahaan, what am I supposed to think? I trust in your love for me, yes. But at this point I am not sure if I can trust in your . . . in your sanity!”

  “My sanity,” Rahaan repeated, swallowing hard, his thick Adam’s apple bulging as he leaned his head back and swallowed again. “Ya Allah, so this is where we are right now.” He shook his head and looked down, smiling and then nodding. “By God, Alim. If I even tried to explain what is happening here, it would only make you doubt my sanity even more!”

  The Sheikh spread his arms out wide and laughed, shaking his head wildly, his thick black hair opening up like a lion’s mane. Hilda hugged herself as she felt his frustration, and she couldn’t even bring herself to look at Di. Instead she looked back over at Alim, who was squinting and frowning, like he was perplexed by something he’d seen.

  Suddenly Alim leaned over and grabbed the Sheikh by the arm, twisting Rahaan’s muscular forearm and pushing the half-sleeve of his linen shirt up over his bicep.

  “Hal 'araa al'ashya'a?” said Alim, the color rushing from his face as his frown deepened. “Am I the one going mad now? Or has this old tattoo somehow been changed?”

  Rahaan froze, looking up at his brother before slowly glancing at Di and then Hilda. “Come,” he said carefully and clearly, masking his relief from everyone but Hilda. “Walk with me. I think perhaps I will be able to make you understand after all.”

  45

  The Sheikh caught the flinch in Di’s expression and posture when Alim stood and prepared to step away, and that told him everything he needed to know about Di. She was very much aware of what she’d done to Norm—even though in this world she hadn’t actually done it. Rahaan also knew that he was taking a gamble right now by pulling Alim aside like this. After all, neither he nor Hilda were clear on Di’s ultimate motive, Diamante’s endgame, which meant that if Di panicked and thought the game was up, it might force her hand to do something drastic. And, by Allah, they knew how drastic she was capable of getting!