Pregnant By My Boss's Cousin, The Billionaire Sheik

by Pinky Haversnatch

  I can feel his erection burgeoning against my thigh. I want to squeal with delight, because I can feel how big it is. It has to be a good eight inches.

  I’m coming only moments later. Hard. Intense. I writhe against his hands, begging him for more.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I cry out in ecstasy.

  When the wave begins to ebb, I try to frantically get myself out of my clothes. “I need you inside me now!” I hiss harshly in his ear.

  Abdul laughs at me, but not in a maniacal or hurtful way. “Not here,” he tells me. “But soon.”

  I pay no attention to where we are going. I am focused on the attention he continues to give my breasts, my cherry-hard nipples, and my dripping cave of love. How much time passes, I don’t know. He brings me to climax so many times I lose count. But it still isn’t enough. I want him. All of him inside me. Plunging that rod of love into me like a blacksmith stuffing a rod into his forge.

  I feel the limo begin to crawl to a stop. Immediately, I am disappointed. Chances are strong that I’ll never see this man again. Who knows what plans he has for the rest of his visit to the city I love so much. I hope he is right in his earlier promise that he won’t allow Gamble to fire me.

  Then I hear it… the sounds of airplanes taking off and landing. I am, to say the least, confused.

  “Where are we?” I ask as I begin to put my clothes back in order. I blush, because I hope my coworkers won’t be able to tell what I’ve been doing.

  He says something to me in French. Or maybe it is Italian. I have no idea because I am only fluent in English. He brushes a lock of my blond hair away from my cheek. “You are quite beautiful, Maisy.”

  I thank him for the compliment and blush like a virgin on her wedding night, seeing her husband’s cock for the first time. (Does that even happen anymore?)

  “I want to be with you,” he says. “And not just for a few hours.”

  I am, to say the least, surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “You have touched me greatly, with your beauty and your keen wit and intelligent conversation. That is as rare as a rose in the Sahara.”

  I am humbled by his praise.

  “Maisy, I want you to come away with me.”

  Go away with him? “I know you are a sheik, and they do things differently where you come from. But here, a girl has to work. Speaking of which, I really need to get back to my job.”

  I reach for the door handle, but he stops me with a firm grasp. “Maisy, please, listen to me.”

  I turn and look into those warm, liquid pools of brown and get that falling away sensation again. I want him. I can’t deny it.

  “I want to take you to Al Zahil.”

  Chapter 2

  “You want to what?” I almost screech my question.

  “I want to take you back with me. To Al Zahil. I want you to be my wife.”

  Was he by chance just a little off his rocker? “We’ve only just met,” I stammer out. My head is spinning. Either from the wine or from the way he is looking at me. So sincere, so genuine and real.

  “I know it must sound, as you Americans would say, crazy, but what is love if not crazy on occasion?”

  He has me there. But I’ve never actually been in love with anyone before so I don’t have anything to compare it to.

  I know I should decline his request. I know I should say no. But I can’t. “My gut tells me I should tell you no.”

  “But your heart?” he asks, looking ever hopeful that I will give him the answer he wants.

  “My heart?” I shake my blonde head. “My heart says that I might have fallen for you in some way that just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  “I feel that too,” he admits to me. “I can not explain it. But I will also not deny it.”

  He traces a finger along my jaw. “So you will come away with me? You will be my wife?”

  There is no need for me to really think about it. “Yes, I will be your wife.”

  He wraps me in a big bear hug, laughing that wonderful laugh that I have come to fall in love with.

  “Good!” he says. “We are at the airport now. My private jet awaits us.”

  A private jet? I’d only flown once in my life. And that was a coach flight down to Florida for spring break, my senior year of college.

  The door opens from outside, the limo driver standing off to the side. I hear jet engines warming up and I am filled with excited anticipation. A sheik has fallen in love with me and wants me to be his wife. I had no idea what that will entail, but at the moment, I am too fucking horny and too blissfully happy to care.

  We exit the limo, Abdul first. He takes my hand in his and I feel that tremor of electricity again. He helps me out of the car and soon, he’s leading me up the stairs and into his private jet.

  It drips with opulence. Leather seats, gold plated knobs and handles everywhere. Tables between those leather seats, covered with white linen cloths, crystal goblets trimmed in gold, and vases filled with fresh cut flowers. A beautiful young woman with light brown hair and a dazzling smile greets us. She says something in a language I don’t understand. Abdul replies with a nod.

  He pulls me along, past the eight seats, and through a door. Inside is just what I was hoping for. A king-sized bed.

  He scoops me up into his strong arms, his lips press against mine. Moments later, as our tongues dance happily together, he is laying me down. The soft mattress — undoubtedly filled with the most expensive goose down — feels luxurious against my back. Abdul is on top of me, grinding his hard-as-steel shaft against my legs. I want out of my clothes. I want him out of his.

  Like a starving man diving into a thick porter-house steak, we remove our clothes in rapid fashion. I’m moaning, panting like a labradoodle in heat, silently screaming I want you!

  Soon, we’re both naked. His hot skin slides across mine. I feel him reaching for something above my head and before I know what is happening, he is draping silk scarves around my wrists.

  “Ssshhh,” he whispers tenderly. “This will bring both of us great pleasure.”

  I can’t resist. I don’t want to.

  With my hands securely fastened to the bed, Abdul slides down and off the mattress. Moments later, he’s tying red silk scarves to my ankles. I’m spread eagle, like some goddess in an ancient ritual.

  I’m not afraid. I’m too worked up to be afraid. I can feel my juices of love trickling down my hoo-ha, drenching the bed in the process. I picture my puss-puss in my mind and I’m certain it’s as lathered as a racehorse after winning at Darlington. The image turns me on more.

  “Please,” I beg. “I need you inside me.”

  He stands up and I can finally get a good look at all his naked, beautiful glory.

  He looks like a bronze statue. All hard and smooth. His chest looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself. His arms are bulging with muscles. His stomach is flat, taught, and rugged looking, like he spent his days harvesting vegetables instead of running billion dollar companies.

  Then I see it.

  My earlier estimate of his length was incorrect.

  He is massive. It looks like he put a caveman club between his legs. Thick. Heavy. Hard. Meaty. And it has to be at least twelve inches long. I have never seen a cock that thick, that long, in my life. It doesn’t look real. But I know I must have it.

  He picks his dick up with both hands. “Do you like what you see, my love?” he asks playfully.

  I can only nod. Suddenly, my mouth has gone dry. I don’t know if I can take all of him in, but I’m willing to try!

  He kneels down at the end of the bed and slips his two hands under my buttocks. The coolness from his gold rings is a sharp contrast to the heat of his hands. He pulls me toward the edge of the bed, just enough.

  “I’m going to eat you like the inside of a ripe Kumquat,” he whispers.

  He gives me no time to prepare myself. He’s on me like a linebacker at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  I arch my hips to m
eet his tongue. It feels rough, like a kiwi, but oh-so-good against my slathering womanhood.

  He’s not messing around. No, he takes my taught peak between his teeth and flicks his tongue back and forth and up and down like a band saw.

  I’m coming before I know what is happening.

  I’m not an innocent woman. I’ve been with men before. But never in my life have I ever come so quickly, so profoundly.

  I buck and writhe, and urge him on. Begging and pleading and repeating his name over and over and over. “Yes! Abdul! Yes! Abdul! Yes! Abdul!!!”

  Hot, intense, deep, unbelievable—the sensations wash over me. I come and come and come until I don’t think I’ll ever stop. It is glorious, just like he is.

  Just when I think the wave is over, he is plunging a finger into my slick folds. Then another. Stretching me, diving and plunging and diving and plunging, farther and farther. I feel the cool gold rings as they press against my hot pussy.

  It isn’t long before I’m coming again. It’s unbelievably beautiful and intense in its intensity. I cry out, over and over. Bucking and writhing and wanting more.

  I am left breathless. My body feels like pudding left out in the sun. I can’t move. Even if I weren’t tied up, I still couldn’t move.

  I feel him untie the scarves at my feet, the bed dips ever so slightly as he crawls over me. Without warning, he is pushing his meaty cock into my damp hole. Inch by slow inch.

  “Oh, my God!” I cry out. “You feel so good inside me.”

  “You are so wet! Like the springs of Ganook in summer time!”

  I have no idea what the Springs of Ganook are, but from the look of bliss on his face, it must be good.

  And I know I am wet. I can feel my love nectar is dripping down the crack of my ass. I like the sensation.

  I also like, no LOVE him being inside me. But he’s just too damn big. He can’t get it all in. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take whatever I can take. I wish I could look down, just to see how much is in there, but my hands are still tied.

  In moments, I am in full throttle orgasm. Crashing, glorious, magnificent waves course over me. Over and over again. Hot, intense, and beautiful.

  I hear Abdul pant harder as he shoves as much of his meaty love handle into me as he can. “Maisy!” he cries out. “Maisy!”

  I can feel his hot seed shooting into my love canal, like one of those high-powered water guns. It almost stings in its magnitude. He continues to pump into me as I continue to ride out my own climax.

  Moments later, he collapses on top of me. I take all of his weight, basking in the glory that is my sheik. We struggle to catch our breath as we come off the insane high that was our sweet love-making.

  We lay there for a long while before I realize we’ve already taken off and are undoubtedly thousands of feet into the air.

  I’m leaving behind every safe thing I’ve ever known. I’m leaving behind my family, my friends, my job. And my collection of knock off purses.

  But I don’t care.

  Tears stream from my eyes, down the side of my face, and onto the 5,000 thread count silk sheets.

  We’ve grown so close in the past few hours. It’s like he knows.

  Abdul lifts himself onto his elbows, his hefty rod of masculine and potent love still inside me. “Why do you cry?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

  I giggle slightly. “These are tears of joy,” I tell him. “I have never been so happy.”

  He looks pleased with me, with my answer as he slowly unties the silk scarves. Wrapping me into his arms, he rolls over onto his back, bringing me with him. His cock still feels as hard as granite and is still inside me. I wonder, for a moment, if we can’t stay like this forever.

  “I, too, am very happy,” he tells me. “I have never felt anything so intense in my life.”

  I agree. I toy with his dark chest hair with one finger. It’s spongy and soft. I like that about him. “I can’t believe I am going to your home country with you.”

  “Are you scared?” he asks me as he caresses my back with those slender fingers I love so much.

  “No,” I thickly reply, the tears of joy lodging in my throat. “As long as I am with you, I will never be afraid of anything.”

  But then it hits me. We just had the most amazing sex ever and we didn’t use protection! My head spins for a moment and I lift it up rapidly. “Oh, my god!” I cry. “We didn’t use protection! I’m not on the pill!” I haven’t had a boyfriend in two years. I don’t do one-night-stands, so I didn’t see a need to keep putting any chemicals into my body.

  Abdul laughs at me. “Do not worry,” he says. “I want you pregnant. You are going to give me as many children as I want.”

  “I will?” I ask him, incredulously. He certainly has balls.

  “You will,” he says, nodding his head. “Because I am your sheik, and soon to be your husband.”

  That made perfectly good sense to me, so I don’t argue.

  “Just think,” he says as he finally dislodges himself from my core. It makes a popping sound when he pulls it out, like when you put your finger into a glass bottle. He lays me on my back and kisses my stomach. “We could very well have just made our first child together.”

  I’ve never thought much about having children. When I did, I’d always limited myself to two. One each. But now? Now, I hope I am pregnant with triplets, just so that I can see that look of awe and wonder and bliss on his face that he had right then.

  More tears fall from my blue eyes. “I hope they look like you.”

  “And I hope they are as intelligent as you.”

  So we lay there, talking about our future together. I nap off and on. In between those moments of rest, my sheik, my future husband, makes love to me over and over again.

  We land in Paris the following morning. We spend the next three days making love to one another. Wild, hot, passionate, we cannot get enough of each other. He is my drug of choice and one I refuse to ever give up.

  When we aren’t playing hopscotch between the sheets, he takes me to the best restaurants. He also takes me on a wild shopping spree. No more knock offs or copycats for me! We spent at least a hundred thousand dollars on clothes, shoes, purses, and accessories. I feel like a queen!

  Those first few days together are nothing short of heaven on earth. I swear he can read my mind. It probably isn’t too difficult, since my mind is always on him and how we can please each other sexually.

  We are in one of the most expensive clothing stores in all of Paris. The kind you need an appointment to get into. Well, they must have known my future husband, because they usher us in without any questions.

  I am in one of the dressing rooms and an assistant is helping me get into a beautiful evening gown. Abdul doesn’t even knock or ask permission to enter. The door opens and there he is. Looking just as dashing and handsome as he did ten minutes before.

  “Leave us,” he orders the cute little clerk.

  She doesn’t even bat one of her fake eyelashes.

  Abdul closes the door behind him and stares at me. I am in nothing but a pair of $300 red thong panties, holding onto the silk gown. “You look lovely in that.”

  I scrunch my brow. “This?” I ask, holding up the dress I’m not wearing.

  He slowly shook his head. “No,” he said, staring at my naked breasts. I knew that look. I’d seen it enough over the past days. Instantly, my nipples grow as hard as coconuts and my already moist womanhood grows moister. Damn! But he is soooo good looking. Beyond real.

  Slowly, without saying a word, he unzips his pants and withdraws that hard-as-steel love rod from his pants. “I want you to pleasure my cock.”

  He doesn’t need to ask me twice. I toss the dress onto the chase and go to him. I kneel and take his member into my hands. I glance up at him for a moment as I tease the bulbous head of his glorious cock with my tongue before stretching my mouth around it.

  I take as much of him in as I can. I can feel the mushroom like h
ead of his cock tickling the back of my throat. Slowly, oh so slowly, I take him in and pull away. Take him in and pull away.

  He grabs a fist full of my hair and shoves his cock into my mouth. Not hard, just forceful. I have next to no gag reflex, which plays a key roll in sucking off my sheik.

  I increase my speed. When I pull his meaty grinder out, I tickle the end with my tongue. He likes that. But after a few minutes, he’s done playing around. He holds on to my head and sets his own brisk pace. He’s fucking my mouth and I am loving every moment of it.

  I love the fact that neither of us has to work too hard at coming. Just a few simple touches here and there and we’re coming like freight trains down the side of the mountain with the brakes off. He hisses, holding tighter to my hair, as he pounds into my mouth and comes.

  I take all of his seed, swallowing every beautiful drop.

  He pats the top of my head before helping me to my feet. He kisses me long and hard before leaving the room without so much as uttering a word.

  There would be many more moments like that one over the next week. Moments that I would burn into my memory forever and ever.

  After selecting whatever dresses and outfits tickled my fancy, Abdul takes me to a jewelers. The sales clerks apparently know him well, for their eyes light up the moment we walk in. They exchanged words in French, while I scan the room with my eyes. Everything sparkles!

  The clerk leads us to a private room at the back of the store. Beautiful and luxuriously decorated in shades of blue and cream. Two crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling.

  Abdul helps me into a seat at a table before sitting next to me. Another clerk soon enters, carrying a tray covered in black velvet.

  Carefully he sets the tray down and slowly pulls away the fabric.

  I had never seen such big diamonds before!

  “Which do you like?” my sheik asks me.

  I know had I said all of them he would have bought them for me. I peruse the tray and one rather large diamond does catch my eye. It is a princess cut. I point to that particular one. Abdul picks it up and takes one of the jewelers little glass things and studies it closely. “It is a bit small,” he says. “But perfectly cut.”