Possession of the Sheikh: (Interracial BWWM Erotica) (The Men of Sharjah Series Book 2)

by Nadia Aidan

  “Where are we going?”

  Khalil was grateful for the interruption, because despite that he was now married to Sabeen, that his worst nightmare had not come to pass, it would still take some time for the hell his subconscious mind had lived in for so many years to come to terms with his reality.

  He realized she still awaited his answer, and that’s when he noticed the limo had come to a stop. He glanced out the window, a grin spreading across his face as he took in the golden sands that stretched for miles before him, seemingly without end.

  Khalil looked at Sabeen from over his shoulder and winked.

  “We’re going to my home.”

  *

  His home?

  I looked at him, then back out the window, then back at him, but before I could question him further he was climbing out of the car at the same time my own door opened. Our driver stood there with his palm outstretched. I hesitated a moment before finally taking his hand and allowing him to help me out of the limo.

  It was only late afternoon so I could still see, but the sun had begun to approach the horizon, giving the desert sands an amber glow. With nothing but the unending desert before me, my gaze immediately landed on the most startling sight of this entire day. After all it would have been impossible to miss.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I tried to capture Khalil’s attention, but he was too busy speaking with the limo driver. So I had no choice but to try and sort through the mountain of questions piling up inside my head. I’d expected we would stay at a hotel in the city for the night and then fly somewhere exotic and romantic for our month long honeymoon, somewhere like the Caribbean or the south of France. I certainly had not expected to be faced with a camel carrying an elaborate hawdaj of gold with pearl accents and draped in translucent curtains of silk.

  The sound of the limo driving away caught my attention, but instead of watching the car disappear down the empty road, all I saw was Khalil. I didn’t think I’d been staring at the hawdaj and its camel for that long, but apparently so because gone was the black tuxedo he’d worn throughout the day. In its place was a flowing white serwal and matching thoab which he’d left untied, revealing the wide expanse of his well-muscled chest. His hair was now covered by the traditional keffiyeh, but instead of securing it with agal rope, he wore it twisted around his head in the way of his mother’s people, a testament to his Bedouin heritage.

  I hadn’t seen Khalil dressed in traditional clothing since we were in our teens, so I was ill-prepared for the striking effect his appearance had on me. As he drew nearer, I couldn’t deny that his presence overwhelmed me; and it wasn’t just the way in which his eyes stalked my every movement. His aura was potent, as if he drew strength from the desert sands all around him. Not since the day I’d learned that we were to marry, had I felt this powerless and vulnerable. I wanted to run, to hide even, but where would I go? We literally stood on the side of a deserted road that was one of three interstate highways that ran through Sharjah. This one connected the al-Sayeef river in the north to the Gulf in the south. While the al-Hajar mountain range rose as a natural border to the west, with the al-Dahna desert to the east. Even if I managed to survive the journey across our natural boundaries, our friendly neighbors and allies in Qatar and Bahrain would very hospitably greet me and then just as happily send me back to my husband.

  I corrected myself then. The desert sheikh before me was not the man I’d married. That man was civilized and cultured. This one was rugged and untamed—a version of Khalil I’d never encountered before.

  I remained silent, following his lead as I allowed him to usher me toward the waiting camel driven hawdaj. Accepting his assistance to help me inside, I gasped the moment I crawled into the small space. It was everything out of a fairy tale plucked straight from Scheherazade’s one thousand and one nights. Four ornate lanterns illuminated the space, and although I could tell they were modern conventions with light bulbs and batteries the detail was so precise I could have easily mistaken them for antiques had I not looked closer.

  Fragrant whorls of smoke swirled all around me from incense sticks resting atop a burner. I felt as if I had entered an ancient harem and despite my earlier wariness, I found myself relaxing into the overstuffed, brightly colored Ottoman pillows that were feather soft.

  A long forgotten memory chose that moment to surface, as I recalled one night while we’d been together, neither of us could sleep so we’d talked about all kinds of random things. I’d shared with him how I wished for a desert wedding where I would be carried off like a real Arabian princess. It had been silly and we’d laughed because he’d known I’d only been half serious. Or so I’d believed.

  I forcefully shut my eyes against the moisture I felt gathering there, all the while reminding myself of all the pain he’d caused. Khalil didn’t deserve a second chance with me. No matter how thoughtful and patient he’d been these past few weeks. No matter how he always seemed overly concerned about my well-being. It didn’t matter what we were doing, or who was around, if I appeared exhausted or upset, whatever he was doing was momentarily set aside, to see to me. At the time I’d chalked it up to more charades for the tabloids and our families, but now I was starting to wonder, and with it I began to worry.

  I could easily wage a war of attrition with the Khalil who was a callous asshole, but this Khalil, the man I’d fallen in love with, this Khalil I had no defense against.

  *

  The stress of the long day must have finally caught up with Sabeen because by the time Khalil brought the camel to a stop after the nearly two-hour, ten mile trek, and he looked inside the hawdaj, she was fast asleep. And she didn’t waken for some time, not even after he’d carried her inside of his tent, and undressed her down to her lingerie.

  As she lay stretched out across the raised bed where he slept, all wanton temptation with her hair strewn about her face, wearing nothing but a satin white bra and matching lace thong, he felt himself harden and swell to proportions he hadn’t experienced in a long time. She still wore her garter, and Khalil had to fight to stifle the groan of desire that rose up inside of him. He almost couldn’t breathe, his longing for her was so strong. He hadn’t seen her like this in fifteen years, and while she’d been beautiful then, he could not deny an eighteen-year-old girl could never hope to rival that of a grown woman’s curves. Her hips flared enticingly and her breasts were fuller, all of her was fuller, lusher, and he ached to touch her, to part her silken thighs and bury himself deep inside her softness.

  He needed to get out of there, and now, before he took her with all the savage yearnings that pulsed so strongly inside of him. Deciding to busy himself until she either woke up or he exhausted himself enough to fall sleep, Khalil removed the hawdaj, and attended to his camel. He was just finishing up when he heard rustling behind him. Seconds later she appeared within the entryway of his tent with her hair mussed, and sleep still clinging to her eyes. He’d removed his thoab when the heat had caused it to cling to his torso, and she now wore it instead of the lingerie he’d left her in, presenting the most erotic picture he’d ever seen. On bare feet she treaded softly toward him, the desert wind giving her the appearance of a wayward angel as it whipped through her hair and ruffled his thoab until it molded her every curve.

  “I thought you were kidding.”

  It took Khalil several seconds to find his voice because not only was the white material of his garment still clinging to her, but it was also completely see through beneath the moonlight and soft rays from the lamps.

  “About my home?” he questioned when he was finally able to make sense of her words and speak.

  She nodded. “I thought you were joking, but you really do live out here in the desert?”

  “I have a home and lands in Sharjah, of course. As well as my residence on Amir’s compound.” He gave her a small smile before he nodded toward the horizon. “But there are times when I need to be alone, and that’s when I return to the land of my mother’s people.
” He didn’t tell her that losing her had been what had driven him deep into the desert; that after he’d completed his military training, had he not sought refuge in the desert, he would have long ago gone insane.

  She followed his gaze, finally seeing what he saw—an ancient caravanserai that had been built along the Silk Road. The polished marble had faded over time, and with it the brightly decorative frescos, but nearby remained the oasis that had provided food and water for the many travelers who navigated the desert. His mother’s tribe, the Bani Khalid, was now camped there, and it returned every year for three months before moving on for the fall. He swept his gaze over the nearly fifty tents, and all the animals that accompanied them, as embers of smoke from long extinguished cooking fires billowed toward the sky.

  They would depart any day now, and as much as he welcomed an end to the isolation, when the tribe once again moved on, he would just as easily settle into his daily routine and embrace the silence he’d grown accustomed to.

  He returned his attention to Sabeen, and found her staring at him, as if she didn’t know what to make of him. No doubt she was confused by the man she was starting to realize he was, and how at odds that man was to the one she’d believed him to be. It had pained him to walk away from her all those years ago; all while pretending that he was a wild, womanizing playboy, so that she wouldn’t discover the truth—that he had never stopped loving her. It had killed him to hurt her, but he’d done it for her.

  Without thinking, he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, but before his fingers could steal across her flesh she drew back. Within the space of a moment, her eyes darkened and her lips pursed into a frown.

  “Nothing has changed between us,” she snapped, already turning toward the tent where he knew she so desperately wanted to escape.

  Had she remained quiet, he probably would have allowed her to, but her words struck a chord inside of him, the same chord that she’d struck all those years ago, when her boldness had gotten the best of him, and he’d been driven to take her.

  Everything had changed between them. Besides he’d had enough of her bad attitude. At first he’d excused it, knowing all of this had to be difficult for her. So in the weeks leading up to their wedding, he’d been forced to leash his desires, when all he’d wanted to do since he’d become her fiancé was bury his cock inside of her, and not in the gentle way a man usually claims his soon to be bride. No, he wanted to make her beg, and then he wanted to make her scream, from both pleasure and pain, until her body couldn’t recognize the difference.

  When she turned her back on him, as if he could so easily be dismissed, all pretenses of civility vanished, and he called after her before she could disappear inside.

  “You should have learned long ago, Nala, that I am not a man you can toy with.”

  She spun to face him, her eyes blazing, “Don’t call me that ever again. I never should have allowed it then, but you lost the right to call me that long—”

  “I’ll call you whatever I wish, now go inside and get undressed.”

  Sabeen stared at him through blinking eyes as if she hadn’t heard him correctly, but he knew the moment she realized just how serious he was because her entire face turned red, her eyes flashing with rage.

  “How dare you speak to me like that? You’re not to touch me. You’re not to lay a single hand on me—”

  In her tirade of outrage, she obviously hadn’t been cognizant that with every second, he’d stalked closer, and with every word, he’d grown angrier. It took Khalil one final stride to close the distance between them, and before she realized what was happening, he’d dragged her into his arms and silenced her with his lips.

  She struggled against him, but he easily overpowered her, backing her inside the tent, letting the flaps close behind them. Within seconds he had her pinned beneath him atop his bed, with her arms above her head. Her protests took on a new urgency, but he muffled them against his mouth. Determined to seal her lips shut, she was so busy trying to evade his kiss that she didn’t realize he’d bound her wrists—not until it was too late.

  Chapter Five

  I knew I was in danger the moment Khalil’s lips joined mine, I just didn’t realize the extent to which until I felt the textured softness of satin encircle my wrists, but by then it was far too late.

  He’d tied my wrists together and secured them to the wooden post running along the head of his bed. I gasped, anger and shock coursing through me at his audacity—that was my second mistake. The second my lips parted, his tongue swept inside my mouth, stroking, and claiming me with an urgency that literally took my breath away.

  Although it was useless, I continued to struggle. I still hadn’t recovered from the humiliation of how easily I’d surrendered to him that morning in my boardroom. It was as if years of pent up longing had finally burst forth and broken free that day. The problem was just those few minutes with him had left me shaken, that I knew a night in his arms would completely shatter me. It had taken me years to get over my heartbreak, and I just couldn’t go through that again. I was the object of his desire and affection now, but eventually Khalil would shut down, shut me out, and then walk away—just like before.

  That thought gave me the strength to dislodge my mouth from his long enough to halt any further attempts at seduction with a single word.

  “Stop.”

  Light shone from a single lamp within the tent, but despite the shadowed darkness, Khalil knew immediately that I was serious.

  The eyes staring back at me were wild with anger and heavy with desire, but swirling in their depths I glimpsed a deeper, stronger emotion, one that I couldn’t bring myself to believe was genuine, so I refused to even acknowledge it as I looked away.

  “You are my wife.”

  His statement jarred me after the long stretch of silence, but it was the raw anguish I heard in his voice that drew my gaze. The expression on his face made me feel things that I’d sworn I could never feel again.

  It was all I could do to close my eyes, when I spoke again.

  “In name only.”

  I didn’t need to see his face to know that he was furious. I could feel the tension pulsing through his entire body.

  “You are my wife in the truest sense and in every way.” When I didn’t respond, he grasped my face between his callused palms and lifted my head, so that I had no choice but to open my eyes and meet the burning intensity of his gaze. He repeated his statement more forcefully, which for some reason angered me even more.

  “I won’t share your bed,” I shouted back, just as forcefully.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw as he continued to glare at me. When he cursed, I thought he would roll off of me and untie my wrists in defeat, but instead he did the unexpected.

  “You are duty bound to give me an heir, but since you refuse, then you leave me no choice. Tomorrow I will file for an annulment.” The threat of his words hung between us, and when he reached above me as if to unbind me, I knew the steely resolve in his eyes was not a bluff.

  That stupid contract—and its stupid, sexist stipulations.

  If I didn’t at least try to conceive an heir, he would annul our marriage, which wouldn’t be so bad, except for all of the rumors that would soon follow. And they would be nasty ones that would attack everything from my character to my sexuality. The honor and reputation of my family would be called into question, if not ruined entirely, and while I didn’t care so much about myself, I knew I couldn’t allow my father and sisters to suffer for my actions.

  “Wait.”

  Khalil stilled immediately, and I lay there trapped beneath the weight of his body and the intense scrutiny of his gaze.

  “One child, no matter the gender, then after that you promise to leave me alone.”

  He studied me in silence for several moments before finally demanding, “And what of your needs? You’re a very passionate woman, Sabeen. Would you just deny them?”

  I frowned at his question. “I’ll be fine.”
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  His eyes narrowed, but that did nothing to shield me from the anger burning there. “We are now married. I will never allow you to take a lover.”

  “And I won’t take one,” I said on a sigh of frustration. If only he knew how badly he’d spoiled me for other men, he wouldn’t be silently fuming right now.

  “And what of my needs?” he asked quietly, and I noticed then he’d begun to toy with the wisps of hair framing my face, causing his fingertips to lightly stroke my cheek. “Would you allow me to take a lover to see to my needs?”

  His soft caresses had obviously dulled my mind along with my senses, because before I could catch myself I blurted out vehemently, “Never.”

  From his expression and the small smile that slowly curled his lips I knew he hadn’t expected that response. Well that made two of us.

  I was about to correct myself when he said, “Six children. My generation is full of males, so I want at least three girls. And it’s customary to have at least three boys to ensure the continuance of our family name, so I want at least three boys as well. After that, then I shall consider leaving you alone.”

  I stared at him as I did the math in my head, the entire time wondering if he was insane.

  “What if we have six boys, or six girls?”

  “Then I won’t be able to leave you alone, now will I?”

  “You’re crazy. We could end up having twenty kids!”

  He shrugged. “We could. Or you can refuse, and I will give you an annulment instead.”

  At first I couldn’t believe him, but then I could when I met his steely gaze. Fierce determination brimmed in the depths of his eyes, along with a heavy dose of desire. Even if I hadn’t glimpsed it, I could feel his erection growing harder and larger against my inner thigh. My own temperature began to climb and I could actually feel my breaths coming quicker and shorter.

  I cursed my wanton body, along with that stupid contract. Everything Khalil had requested was well within the law and language of our betrothal and subsequent wedding contract. It was the most outdated, antiquated stipulation, and rarely enforced, but when life had been much harder in Sharjah, and agriculture and livestock had been the means for economic prosperity, large families had been necessary; so even the minimum number of children to be born within a union had been written out. The contract had been agreed upon by my father, so I couldn’t change it, and I never thought Khalil would ever enforce it. The contract stipulated a minimum six children, with at least three of them being boys, but now he wanted at least three girls too.