My Controlling Sheikh

by Tee, Marian

  Table of Contents

  My Controlling Sheikh

  About the Book

  My Controlling Sheikh

  Prologue

  So This Is...

  The Routine

  The Other Sister

  The Kiss

  The Punishment

  The Supper

  The Car Ride

  The Other Sheikh

  The Return

  The Talk

  The Consequence

  The Apology

  The Seduction

  The First Night

  The Taking

  The Invitation

  The Plan

  The Gown

  The Slippers

  The Chase

  The Truth

  The Happy Ever After

  Once Upon A Time

  I Didn’t Know | He Was My Boss

  My Billionaire Captor

  What if Cinderella’s prince was a tall, dark, and handsome sheikh...and he was anything but charming?

  I used to be an ordinary small-town girl, a curvy eighteen-year-old who worked countless hours after school just to make things meet. I didn't even have time to date, much less a chance to have my first kiss.

  But then my mother married the king and my life changed forever.

  Sheikh Khal, the king's heir, now has total control of my life.

  Everyone thinks he's a dream come true.

  Gorgeous. Courageous. Kind.

  With me, however, he's nothing but a domineering jerk.

  I hated him, and I thought he hated me back...until the sheikh showed me hate was just another form of love.

  Note: This STANDALONE romance is STEAMY and OVER THE TOP. A QUICK, FUN READ that's perfect for those wanting to temporarily forget real-life problems. This new edition also includes an extended epilogue featuring the next sheikh to fall in love.

  About the Book

  I couldn’t breathe, could only look down at the table as the sheikh started stroking a tiny nub of flesh between my legs. I knew about it, of course, but I had never tried to touch it, hadn’t even known how sensitive it was until now, with the sheikh making me want to scream at each tortuous stroke.

  God, I hated that he was so good at this.

  “Lady Ella?” It was one of the attendants, and I realized she was unable to serve me the third course until I leaned back on my chair.

  The sheikh’s thumb started moving faster.

  Oh, oh, oh—-

  It was all I could do not to shudder as I forced myself to lean back against my chair. The position had my legs parting wider, making me more exposed to the sheikh’s touch.

  The attendant bent forward—-

  The sheikh slid the smallest tip of his finger inside of me.

  I gasped.

  The attendant froze.

  Oh dear God, please go away!

  My Controlling Sheikh

  by Marian Tee

  (Previously published as Stepbrother Prince both under Marian Tee

  and the author’s pen name M.P. Tanner)

  Copyright 2020 by Streak Digital Publishing

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Once upon a time, there was an American girl named Ella.

  When her fair, kind-hearted but empty-headed mother married the handsome, kind-hearted and equally empty-headed king of a faraway kingdom, she was given no choice but to pack her bags and leave for a desert kingdom in a land far, far away.

  The king's older daughter hated Ella on sight.

  As for the king's heir Sheikh Khal, he was known to be gallant and courageous. And yet with Ella, he was different. He was aloof, sharp-tongued, and cruel.

  Everyone therefore believed the sheikh hated Ella as well.

  But everyone was wrong.

  So This Is...

  “How are you doing?” Ruth asked as she came to me in a flurry of silk. Her cheeks were flushed with a mixture of joy and intoxication, and though she was in her late thirties, she looked a decade younger in her bridal finery.

  Well...everyone thinks we’re in this for the money, but other than that?

  I smiled brightly. “Best wedding reception ever, Mom.” I’d never ruin this day for her. After everything she’s gone through just to raise me up alone, she deserved this.

  “Oh, Ella.” Ruth threw her arms around me in an exuberant hug. She was a touchy-feely kind of person, someone without any kind of reserve, and I supposed that was the reason my biological father – he did not deserve to be called Dad – who was a hardened criminal, found it so easy to make her fall for him, knock her up, and then steal all her money.

  “This day wouldn’t have been perfect if you weren’t happy,” she whispered.

  I hugged her more tightly. “I love you, Mom. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy, too.” My mom blew me a kiss and laughed when I made a face in return. That just wasn't my thing, you know?

  It was only when the orchestra had begun another song - So This Is Love, the 1948 version - when I noticed the sheikh standing across the ballroom, his tall, broad-shouldered build cutting a strikingly imposing figure in his white military uniform.

  He looked so much like what everyone's idea was a Prince Charming would be that he had all the girls swooning or drooling at the sight of him. Heck, he had my own chest pounding, and I didn't even like him.

  The ballad continued to play.

  Mm...mm...mm...

  Between us, couples danced in and out of our view, the ladies in their finest gowns and with jewelry sparkling from their ears and around their throats. A-list actresses, beauty queens, and supermodels, pampered princesses and elegant heiresses...these women were frequently described as having the loveliest faces in the entire world.

  So why then...

  Why did I feel like the sheikh only had eyes for me?

  It was crazy to think so, and I felt ashamed and horribly self-absorbed for even considering it.

  The sheikh hated me.

  He had made it obvious when he and his bitchy half-sister didn’t speak a word to me when we first met, and not once did he glance my way when we walked down the aisle, the sheikh as the king's best man and me as Ruth's maid of honor.

  My fingers had trembled the entire time they were curled around his arm, and my stupid heart kept skipping a beat every time I felt his muscles contract reflexively under my touch.

  A movement distracted me from my memories - a woman coming on walking up to the sheikh, and I hated the way my heart squeezed painfully as I watched him bend his dark head to whatever she had to say.

  I forced myself to look away, furious and frustrated with how strange I was reacting to a man who hated me.

  Stop thinking about him, Ella.

  He was nothing special. Nothing. The only difference between us was that his throne was made of gold while mine was located in the washroom. But other than that? Nothing. Special. We were both human beings, and if he gave me hell, I’d give him hell, too.

  So just stop giving a damn about him.

  Got it, Ella?

  I took a deep breath. Made myself look up. And felt my supposedly smarter heart lose whatever rational ground it had gained the moment I saw the sheikh heading my way. It went back to being stupid in an instant. Thud! Thud! Thud! If this went on, my heart would end up hammering its way out of my chest, and an ominous sense of premonition seized me at that moment.

  Something bad was abo
ut to happen.

  Really bad.

  Picking up my skirts, I rose quickly from my seat and hastened towards the closest pair of doors. It was a struggle not to trip over the length and weight of my gown, but I managed somehow. What was really killing me right now were my shoes, and I cursed the royal family's official couturier for forcing me into six-inch heels.

  Appearing taller was supposed to make me more royal in the official wedding photos, but yeah, that was nothing but a load of crap, and the damn man probably knew it, too. It wasn't my fault the whole damn royal family were as tall as trees, and worst of all, even Ruth stood five-foot-ten in her bare feet.

  The only thing these stupid heels had achieved was break my ankles, and I couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief as I heard the huge ballroom doors swing shut behind me. I slowed down, and after glancing left and right to ensure that I was alone, I took off my heels one by one.

  Aaaaah, bliss.

  The thick, warm carpet felt heavenly against my aching feet.

  The palace still felt like a maze to me, but if I remembered correctly, this particular hallway was just for viewing, with a balcony every few feet that overlooked different parts of the palace.

  Hovering on the curtained glass doors that led to one of the balconies, I heard the doors swing open behind me.

  Frowning, I turned around...and froze.

  Sheikh Khal.

  He was alone now, and there was a hard look on his too-beautiful face as he strode towards me.

  My heart began to race uncontrollably again. You’re just nervous, Ella, I told myself. Nervous. Not excited. Definitely not excited.

  The sheikh had finally reached me. This close, he was so much taller, so much more gorgeous and intimidating. I had seen his photos before meeting him, of course, but even so, it hadn’t prepared me for how the sheikh looked in real life.

  No photo – not even when taken by the best photographers – would ever perfectly capture his powerful presence, no photo able to show the way he wore his royal authority like second skin.

  The sheikh was a man, a real man.

  Someone who conquered, dominated, possessed.

  And God...

  It made him so, so much...sexier.

  When he reached my side, I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze. His blue eyes were bright and intense, and I wondered dizzily why just looking into them made me feel so weak.

  “You won’t curtsy, Lady Ella?” His English was fluent but strongly accented, and it was just one of the gazillion of languages he – and now I – had to learn as part of the royal family.

  What he was asking for wasn't unreasonable. We were in his kingdom, after all, and their traditions took precedence. But even so, something about the idea of kneeling before him was galling, and instead I found myself lifting my chin as I asked, “Why should I?”

  His blue eyes darkened with anger, and my heart beat faster than ever. I knew I should take the words back...but I couldn’t.

  I just couldn’t.

  And I didn't understand why it was so.

  I had always been a good girl. The kind who still had her V-card, the kind who toiled countless hours after school to help Ruth make ends meet. I had never been the kind to flout authority, so why then couldn't I help acting out where the sheikh was concerned?

  Before me, the sheikh appeared rigid with rage, and when he spoke again, his voice had become dangerously soft and feral. “You truly will not show me respect?”

  “Why should I?” I challenged. “You didn’t show me any respect either, did you? You didn’t say one darn word to me in the wedding, didn’t even glance—-”

  “Forgive me,” the sheikh said mockingly. “I didn’t know you yearn for my attention that much.”

  “Asshole!”

  The sheikh whitened.

  Shit.

  I might have...I might have gone overboard with that one.

  And I was right.

  Everything that happened after it was a blur, and the next thing I knew, I was bent over his arm, my bottom up in the air.

  SLAP!

  A shriek escaped me, more out of shock than pain. Had the sheikh just spanked my bottom?

  “That’s for disobeying me.”

  SLAP!

  “That’s for disrespecting our kingdom’s traditions.”

  SLAP!

  “That’s for calling me an asshole.”

  I regained my senses, and I tried to struggle out of his hold. “Let me go or I’ll scream!”

  The sheikh's handsome face, however, remained stoic. “Scream all you want, ukhayyah. It is your mother’s marriage you will ruin on its very first day.”

  The truth of his words hit me, and when he spanked my bottom again, and my skin started to sting, I simply bit my lip hard to keep myself from crying out. It hurt, but no way was I going to let him know that.

  Instead, I glared up at him, fighting back tears as I demanded bitterly, "And that last one? What was that slap for? Or do you just like hurting me because I'm a nobody who's dared to dirty your royal presence?"

  “No.”

  The sheikh's hand moved, and I tensed when I felt his hand shape one stinging cheek over the layers of crushed silk. “That was simply because I liked spanking you.”

  His words rendered me speechless, and it took me a moment to recover myself and spat out at the sheikh, "Bastard!"

  The sheikh's hand moved again, and I tensed, expecting him to spank my bottom again.

  But instead, his hand moved towards my waist, tightening. And then he was spinning me around as he pulled me back to my feet.

  Our gazes clashed.

  The sheikh was breathing hard as he looked down at me with his still-bright blue eyes, a dark flush on his high-boned cheeks.

  He was so, so tense, and I couldn’t understand why, but something told me it wasn’t anger. It was something else, something worse...

  Some kind of feminine instinct whispered me to look down, and my eyes slowly trailed downward—-

  And that was when I saw it.

  The prominent bulge in his pants, the unmistakable sign of his arousal.

  He was hard, and he was huge, huger than I ever thought a man could be.

  The sheikh wanted me.

  Me.

  Ella.

  The nobody he hated.

  I whispered, “You’re sick.”

  “And you’re playing the innocent.” The sheikh's smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You want me, too.” I watched his gaze slide down, lingering on my breasts, and that was when I felt it.

  Oh God, how long had it been like this?

  My nipples poking against the silk of my gown, my breasts threatening to swell above the deep neckline.

  His eyes moved lower, and that was when I felt it, the hot creamy moisture dripping out of me, soaking my panties—-

  Oh.

  I snapped my legs together, as if hoping it would be enough to stop me from being wet.

  My head jerked up when I heard the sheikh laugh, a rich beautiful sound that made my entire body shiver.

  Oh God, it was just a laugh.

  A simple darn laugh and yet I could feel myself coming to life just by hearing it?

  This was wrong. This was completely wrong. He was the king's heir, the sheikh I hated and who hated me back. So why did he affect me so?

  When the sheikh suddenly cupped my chin, I tried to wrench away, but this only made his grip tighten.

  His head started to lower, and I couldn't help tensing.

  I wanted to run away, but I stayed put, not wanting him to think he had frightened me so.

  His lips curved, and my body responded like it was struck by lightning.

  “You’ve had your first lesson tonight, Lady Ella.”

  Bending his head, the sheikh licked the corner of my lip. “Do not disobey me again.”

  And then he was walking away.

  The Routine

  “Lady Ella, Your Highness.” The guard studiously avoided lo
oking my way as he announced my arrival, and I pretended just as studiously that I didn't notice him doing so. These daily meetings of ours were more and more humiliating. With Charles assigned to guard the sheikh's study during the day, it was impossible for the soldier not to know what was going on inside.

  “Let her in.”

  The door opened, and I stalked inside militantly.

  “Marching instead of walking, milady?” The sheikh was already walking towards the couch.

  Shit.

  I really shouldn't stand for this. I should tell Ruth about it and report him to the authorities. Maybe I should even hold a press conference so that the whole world would finally wake up and realize Sheikh Khal of the kingdom of Kivr was anything but charming.

  I watched the sheikh rid himself of his jacket before laying it carefully over the back of the couch. I watched him roll up his sleeves, revealing the muscles in his arms, and my heart galloped.

  God, I was so sick.

  Those muscles were why a certain part of my body was stinging painfully, and here I was getting excited at the sight of it—-

  The sheikh turned my way all of a sudden, and his lips curved in a smirk when he caught me staring. "Am I getting you excited?"

  Yes, I thought unhappily, and more so now, with that languid purr in his voice.

  But even so, I managed to snarl out, "Shut up."

  "I will count that against you, too, milady—-"

  I gasped. “Are you serious?”

  But the sheikh didn’t even glance my way. Settling himself on the couch, he made an elegant and powerful picture, his broad shoulders well defined by his silk shirt and his trousers molding perfectly to his muscular legs.

  He patted his lap, once.

  And oh God, just that one gesture, and it started, the moisture between my legs, dripping ever so slowly into my underwear.

  “Come and receive your punishment like a good girl, ukhayyah.”

  The words had me wetter and hotter. My brain screamed at me to run away, but my body seemed to have its own accord, my limbs working as if drawn to the sheikh's presence.

  He didn’t have to force me to bend over his legs, my bottom up in the air. It was all me.