by Marian Tee
It took exactly three seconds before the horrifying implication behind the sheikh’s action dawned on her, and her gaze flew to him in shock. He would not – surely, he could not –
But he did.
A swift, strong yank had her tumbling against him, and then he was lifting her up---
“Let me go!”
Another moment, and she found herself straddling the sheikh’s lap, her arms imprisoned behind her back.
NO!
Knowing it would be futile to struggle against someone who could so easily overpower her, Anisah forced herself to stay calm even as her heart beat madly against her chest, and her body was already becoming all too sensitive to the thick, hard erection now pulsing against her belly.
Lifting her chin, she met his gaze head on, asking defiantly, “What do you think you’re doing, Your Highness?”
“Claiming what’s mine.”
“I’m not---”
Tarif shook his head. “No more games, anisdi.”
“How ironic,” she snarled, “considering you were the one who started playing them first.”
Color stained the sheikh’s strongly defined cheeks. “I wanted you to come to me first,” he admitted tautly. “I know now it was foolish to do so, but I was determined to prove I could make you want me despite how much you hated me---”
Even though a part of Anisah had suspected as much ever since finding out what he knew of her, hearing the sheikh confirm it still stung. “You’re saying all I am is a challenge to you.”
Tarif’s lips tightened. “Tory---”
“It’s fine, Your Highness.” Anisah was proud of how steady her voice was even as she grew increasingly empty inside. “I’m not going to hold it against you, and if you need it to be official – congratulations, Your Highness. You succeeded in making me want you. You have conquered your latest challenge.”
The sheikh’s flush deepened. “It is no longer like that, dammit---”
But Anisah didn’t even seem to hear him as she asked, “And that should be the end of it, shouldn’t it? We may now forget everything and move on with each other’s lives---” Anisah broke off when the sheikh’s grip around her wrists suddenly tightened.
“Fuck no.” The cold, calm finality in Anisah’s voice had Tarif breathing hard. He did not like the sound of it, and he knew then he would do everything possible so that he wouldn’t have to hear it again. “I know you have every right to think I’m a devious bastard---”
“How I think of you is immaterial, Your Highness.”
It was his turn to ignore Anisah’s words, the sheikh only continuing in a low, driven tone, “I’m saying I want us to try again, dammit.”
Something treacherous squeezed her chest at the sheikh’s words, but she strove to harden her heart against it. Tarif Al-Atassi was an experienced womanizer, a man who couldn’t be trusted, and it was time she started remembering that.
Lifting her chin, she said flatly, “Nothing started in the first place, Your Highness---”
“That’s a fucking lie, and you know it. Let us start again, Tory. I want you to be mine---”
“You only think you want me because you still see me as a challenge---”
“Stop putting words in my mouth, goddammit,” he bit out. “I want you, and you want me. Do you deny that?”
“All I know,” she said with quiet dignity, “is that I would rather give myself to someone else---”
The sheikh’s face hardened at the thought of another man possessing her luscious body. “If you dare---”
“It’s my body---”
“No, my sweet.” The sheikh’s voice was savage. “It’s mine, and here’s why.”
Before she could even wonder what the sheikh meant, it was already far too late, with his hand releasing her wrists only to wrap around her waist like a chain as he hauled her close.
Her eyes flew to the sheikh in shock, but he wasn’t finished yet, with his other hand fisting her hair.
“Your Highness---”
Tarif pulled her head close, and his mouth crashed down on hers.
Chapter Seven
Oh stars of the desert, someone help her!
The kiss turned Anisah’s world upside down in an instant, and passion erupted between them, hot as molten lava and just as unstoppable. It destroyed her resistance in a single second, reducing her strength to that of a newborn babe as she belatedly attempted to push the sheikh away. She tried beating his chest, tried wriggling off, but it only made the sheikh move his mouth over hers insistently, and every infernal brush of his hot, soft lips only had her growing weaker and weaker.
“Open your mouth for me,” Tarif growled.
Anisah squeezed her eyes shut in a despairing attempt to resist the poisonously sweet timbre of the sheikh’s voice, but it was no use. He was nibbling on her lips now, and every little nip made her want more and more. And when his tongue outlined her lips---
AAAAAAH.
It was another slice of forbidden pleasure, and when the sheikh repeated his command in a rasp---
“Let me in, Tory.”
Her will broke completely under the intoxicating promise that flavored his words, and a moan of helpless surrender flowed out of her throat just as her lips parted.
His grip on her hair tightened, pushing her head forward, and then he was kissing her more deeply, so, so deep that her toes curled at the way his kiss penetrated her very soul. She moaned at the dangerous beauty in it, and moaned again when his tongue thrust inside her mouth.
Reality blurred as his mouth moved more insistently, and his tongue pushed deeper. All that was left was her ability to feel, and oh, how she felt. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he released her hair. His hands clamped each side of her waist, and then he was pulling her closer, closer and closer until his long, hard, and thick phallus was pulsing mightily against the aching folds of her crotch.
A whimper escaped her at the sheer, wondrous feel of it. Oh heavens, everything was so addictive – the taste of his kiss, the feel of his erection rubbing against her. She wanted more, more, more, and she found herself silently begging for it in the way she could no longer stop herself from kissing him back, her need for him now wild and uncontrollable---
“Tory, fuck…” Anisah’s innocence shone despite how responsive she was, and he would be surprised if this didn’t turn out to be her first kiss. If he were a gentleman, he would find a way to take things slow, to allow her time to be accustomed to his kisses.
But then she started rubbing herself harder against him, and Tarif forgot all about being gentle with his beautiful puritan. Instead, he found himself grinding himself against her, dry-humping her like some horny bastard who hadn’t ever tasted a real pussy, and when she started to moan, the sound tore at his control, and Tarif groaned against her lips.
“I need to touch you.” The sheikh wrenched his mouth away from her with an effort, and he nearly shuddered at the way Anisah moaned in sweet protest. “Tell me I can touch you, my sweet,” he urged hoarsely.
Lovely violet eyes stared up at him in a haze of desire. “N-Nem.”
A groan of relief escaped him just before he kissed her again, even more hungrily this time while his hands became busy, pulling her robe up to her waist so he could feel the satiny texture of her skin. He had only the briefest feel of it earlier when he had reached for her dagger, but now he had the chance to savor her skin, and luxuriate in it he did, running his hands slowly up her bare legs.
He felt her jerk when his hands brushed against her knees, and the sheikh mentally filed this under her list of sensitive spots. He intended to discover each and every one of them and use it to torment her until she was out of her mind with pleasure.
Finally, his hands reached up to her upper torso, his fingers softly trailing over the sensitive skin of her stomach before cupping her sweet, tender breasts.
The sheikh squeezed her breasts hard, and Anisah gasped against his lips. The feel of it was unbelievable, and when he s
tarted kneading her breasts in the most deliciously erotic way, she couldn’t stop herself from gasping again.
His fingers started to move towards her nipples, and she stiffened, a part of her fearing the unknown, another part of her anticipating what she was sure could only be more pleasure.
And it was.
A whimper slipped past her lips at how pain and pleasure blurred inside of her the moment the sheikh pinched her nipples. It was agony at its most beautiful, and she wished it would never end. Her arms tightening around the sheikh’s neck, she found herself instinctively moving, her body rubbing against his, silently demanding more of his ministration.
The sheikh pulled his mouth away from her all of a sudden again, but before she could protest, his head had already bent down, his mouth latching on to one cotton-covered nipple as soon as his hands pushed her robe up to her neck.
Aaaaaaah!
He started to suck – hard and strong enough that he made the fabric of her bra feel nonexistent, and she found herself shuddering in his arms with a cry. Her hands moved up, clutching his head, and with an absolute lack of shame, she found herself pushing his head closer to her breast, wanting him to eat all of her.
She felt like she was about to go crazy. It was just too much, with the sheikh sucking on her nipple while his strong, throbbing phallus kept nudging against her folds as if trying to find her entry so it could drive all the way inside---
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The two of them froze.
A moment later, both of them realized at the same time that the car had long come to a stop, and that both the sheikh’s chauffeur and private bodyguard were standing outside the 4x4, waiting for their employer’s signal to open the door.
Heaven save her! What had she done?
Anisah scrambled off his lap with a strangled cry, and seeing the panicky expression on her lovely face, Tarif didn’t make a move to stop her, knowing she needed time to adjust to the reality of what had just happened between them.
Knowing that she wouldn’t appreciate him staring at her beautiful body while she put her clothes to rights, he glanced out of the window to distract himself. The narrow strip of parking space outlining the edge of the desert was still quite full, with outgoing tourists stepping out of their cabs while inbound ones climbed out of their rented 4x4s. It was also the same for the sheikh, although awaiting him instead of a cab was one of the royal family’s many limousines.
“I’m done now,” Anisah muttered. The sheikh turned to her, and even though she had given herself five full minutes to prepare for this, she realized right away it was not enough.
One look into his dark, glittering eyes, and she instantly remembered everything---
The taste of his kiss, the sound of his mouth sucking on her breast, and oh, the feel of his thick, hard erection trying to push itself inside of her womanhood.
“Tory---”
His desire-thickened voice had her biting back a cry at the way her body swelled in instant, absolute yearning.
Oh heavens, no.
Anisah yanked the door open and jumped out of the car, taking Tarif completely by surprise. What the fuck? Anger and reluctant admiration warred inside of the sheikh as he watched his sweet, defiant puritan hail a cab and slide into its backseat as she successfully made her escape.
Tarif ordered one of his security officers to tail Anisah’s cab and afterwards instructed his limousine driver to step on the gas. He wanted to get to his meeting as quickly as possible; the sooner he was done with it, the sooner he could be with Anisah again – and have the chance of throttling her beautiful neck for impulsively placing her life at risk.
Taking his phone out, the sheikh sent her a text message.
Tarif: Never endanger yourself like that again or you will not like the consequences.
Anisah: I only took a cab, Your Highness.
Tarif: Taking a cab does not protect you from kidnappers or terrorists.
Anisah: I’m not part of the royal family, sheikh.
Tarif: But you will be my woman sooner or later, so get used to acting like one.
Chapter Eight
Hyacinth bit her lip as she watched her older half-sister from the upper half of their bunk bed with increasing worry.
Firstly, Anisah was listening to Madonna.
Her sister was not a fan of the Queen of Pop. As far as Anisah was concerned, ‘express yourself’ should only be done with the right platform (i.e. anything and everything less than proper went to one’s diary and nowhere else).
Also, Anisah was taking loud slurps of her coffee.
Her sister did not believe in making any noise when eating or drinking unless one was in Japan (i.e. words are free so please use ‘thank you, it was delicious’ to show appreciation).
And thirdly, Anisah was hunched over her laptop while working.
Her sister had never been guilty of this (i.e. scoliosis wouldn’t be a disease if God had intended for humans to do away with proper posture – or so her sister liked to say).
When one considered all three – and the fact that they were happening at the same time – didn’t it mean her sister had gone mad?
Hyacinth covered her face with her accounting textbook while madly racking her mind for any possible reason behind her sister’s loss of sanity. Since Anisah had started acting oddly the moment she came back to their apartment, Hyacinth tried to go over what she knew of her sister’s schedule.
Anisah’s classes for the day were only until lunch, but she had come back much, much later.
Mm.
A quick Google search on her cellphone with the sheikh’s name had the latest photos popping up in seconds, and Anisah’s younger sister had an ‘aha’ moment when she found what she was looking for: a photo of the sheikh helping her sister inside a white-and-gold Land Cruiser.
I knew it, Hyacinth thought. In her entire life, there had only been two things that could make Anisah act out of sorts.
One was their father, whom they never spoke about.
Two was Sheikh Tarif Al-Atassi, whom they also never spoke about.
And since the first one was long dead, Hyacinth knew that her sister’s odd behavior most likely had to do with the latter.
For two weeks now, the palace had been quietly agog by the sparks that had been flying nonstop between Anisah and the sheikh. Even when the two were obviously pretending to ignore each other, the sizzling chemistry between them was undeniable. Every time Hyacinth found herself in the same room with the sheikh and her sister, the sexual tension was so blatantly palpable it honestly had her fanning her face.
Could the sheikh be why Anisah was now banging loudly on her keyboard, yet another unforgivable transgression that her sister had once preached against? Deciding it was time for an intervention, Hyacinth hurriedly climbed down the bunk ladder and cleared her throat as soon as her feet touched the floor.
“What is it?” Anisah asked as she reluctantly turned to Hyacinth.
One look at her sister’s strained expression, and Hyacinth knew she was right to interfere. Hopefully, the rest of her plan would also work well.
“I need to take a study break,” Hyacinth lied.
The trick to getting her overly protective and workaholic sister to relax was to pretend that she was the one under stress. This was Step One of the plan, and as Hyacinth predicted, Anisah automatically shut her laptop closed and pushed her chair back, saying, “Let’s go out then. What do you feel like doing?”
“Depends. Will it be your treat?” Hyacinth asked with a grin.
“Only if it’s coffee,” Anisah warned, “but you have to pay for your own shopping---” She stopped when she realized she was speaking to an empty room, with her younger sister already in front of their joint walk-in closet in search of what to wear.
It took a mere ten minutes to cross the covered bridge connecting the staff’s dormitory to Al Sahna, the palace’s newest indoor extension. The Rami words translated to The Plaza in English, and the
entertainment complex’s interior drew much inspiration from the sprawling, colorful antique soukhs of Marrakech, with its maze-like pathways of richly patterned tiles and wooden, intricately carved boats sailing under the stone canals that arched over the shimmering waters of a manmade lake.
A domed blanket of digitally produced northern lights shone in brilliant hues over the palace’s private marketplace, which consisted mostly of tented merchant stalls, shisha cafes, and quaint eateries that specialized in Middle Eastern cuisine: one booth boasted of freshly skewered meat for kebab and shawarma while yet another proudly claimed to offer the most savory and scrumptious slices of baklava.
Although one could never run out of things to do (or eat) in Al Sahna, the marketplace tended to quiet down in the late hours of the evening, and a quick look around showed Anisah that tonight wasn’t any different. The streets were completely empty, with its serenely quiet ambience enhanced by the faint notes of Arabian folk music playing out of the complex’s hidden speakers.
It was exactly the kind of peace she craved, Anisah thought with contented bliss, after her most stressful encounter yet with Tarif Al-Atassi.
Hyacinth stopped short of entering the bookstore when she realized her sister had yet to catch up. “Nis? Are you coming?”
“Will you be a while?” Anisah asked.
“Probably. I have a list of magazines to check out, and – oh.” Hyacinth finally noticed where her sister had stopped, and she pretended to pout. “Hmph. You’re choosing your sweet tooth over me again, aren’t you?”
Anisah pretended not to hear her sister’s words, asking, “Do you want me to order anything for you in advance?”
Hyacinth laughed. It was just so typical of Anisah not to admit to anything that might constitute a weakness, and for her too-responsible older sister, even something as ordinary as an addiction to sugary concoctions was just that.
It was a rather cute trait, but it could also get slightly frustrating whenever Anisah’s stubborn tough-cookie side prevented her from sharing her burdens with anyone. And if her guess was right, Hyacinth thought reflectively, more weight had been added to her sister’s already heavily burdened shoulders.