“I hear your champion got beaten. At Kadar’s wedding?” Jasim nudges his friend, who quickly spins around.
“Fucking biker from Arizona,” he snarls. And then as quickly grins, “Never thought I would see anything like that. Left a bad taste in the mouth.”
Not understanding what they’re talking about, I watch the men sorting out the horses, admiring their efficiency in doing so. Suddenly it hits, me all these large beasts are going to be chasing after me. Hmm, I hope they know what they’re doing. I swallow rapidly at the thought of them running me down. I hope they’ve got good brakes.
A woman appears from behind one of the other Jeeps. As she approaches me, I recognize Lamis. She gives a dip of her head to Jasim who responds in kind, then, shielding his eyes, glances up at the sky. Seeming satisfied, he then nods toward myself and Sally.
“Lamis, can you take Janna and help her prepare?” Without waiting for her agreement, he turns to the videographer. “Sally, Rais and I will take you to the site so you can set up the camera. Times getting on now, the horses will be getting prepared and we can plan how exactly this will go down.”
I’d rather have gone with Jasim, but I have my part to play, so after allowing myself a lingering glance full of longing as he retreats with Sally, I follow Lamis into a tent. It’s clean and tidy inside, and someone has obviously recently vacated it to give me a private place to change. Not that I think I need to do so, but Lamis is pulling garments out of a bag.
I wave down at my clothing, “I thought this was quite adequate?”
The maid has an unreadable smile on her face, “The sheikh suggested you wear. Will look good for camera.” As I wonder what Jasim knows about filming and what will look good on screen, while thinking what do I really know about him as I didn’t even know about his involvement in the oil business, she shakes out a snowy white dress. It’s silk with a long light and almost sheer train which will billow out behind me as I run. The sleeves are full, and pulled in at the wrists. It’s a parody of a Western wedding dress, with a flavor of Arabic.
Almost afraid to touch it, I reach out my hand, pulling the material through my fingers. It must have cost a fortune, the embroidery so ornate, and there are little crystals sewn into it which will catch the light of the sun. It’s beautiful, the likes of which I’ve never even been close to before, yet alone worn.
“It’s amazing,” I breathe.
“You put on? I help.” Lamis fiddles in the bag again, and brings out a white boned corset which laces up the front.
I step back, never having worn something like this before. “I don’t know, how will I run in something like that?”
“You will,” she pronounces confidently, and with a twisted grin I agree that she’s probably right. I’ll be running for my life if the horses of hell are after me.
The final thing she produces is a pure white silk thong. Well, at least that must have been cheap, there’s hardly any material there at all.
“Come, I prepare you for your sheikh.” Taking my hand, she leads me behind a curtain where there’s a bath prepared with scented petals floating on the top. Prepare me for my sheikh? I chuckle, seems she’s really getting into this.
And this seems a bit daft, I’ll only get sweaty again after tearing across the hot sand. “Talk about getting in character,” I say with a laugh. “This is all make believe, you know. It’s not real. They’re just going to film me.”
Lamis giggles, “You get in…” she breaks off and taps her hijab, “Right head?”
“In the right mood.” I translate, to her happy nods.
In the mood, yes, definitely. She’s clearly expecting me to get naked, and discreetly turns her back while I divest myself of the clothes I choose so carefully this morning. When I’m hidden under the water, she turns back, and before I can protest, is washing my hair with a jug, using a perfumed shampoo that smells absolutely glorious, even if I can’t work out what the scent is. I let her administer to me, feeling utterly pampered. And when she holds out a fluffy towel, forget my modesty and stand up, letting her wrap it around me.
She gives me some oil, and offers to rub it in, but I don’t want another woman’s hands on me, even if this is her job. I take it from her, and do it myself. I don’t know what’s in it, but it makes my skin feel as soft as silk and has another exotic perfume that I can’t quite place. Its heady scent is acting like an aphrodisiac and I breathe deeply, trying to clear my head. A flush warms my skin, which must be down to the temperature of the air, the tent providing protection only from the sun’s light. When I’ve finished she passes me a robe which I wrap around myself.
Finally, she does my makeup, my eyes ending up alluring, outlined in black kohl. If she can get a close up, Sally will be delighted with the effect. Then Lamis shows her other expertise, braiding part of my hair so a long plait lies down my back, leaving the rest free so it will stream out behind me as I run.
At last, having pulled on the thong, I put on the corset, and Lamis laces me into it. Not the most comfortable garment in the heat, but when I put on the dress the shape it gives me is amazing. My small breasts are pushed up, and my slight waist emphasized, the dress flowing down over my hips.
Lamis steps back to admire her handiwork, “Beautiful,” she breathes, “fit for prince.”
Before I can question her strange statement, the flap to the tent opens. “The sun is beginning to set. It is time.” It’s Rais, himself who’s come to get me. His eyes blink when he sees me, and a smirk comes to his lips. His fierceness makes me nervous. Is he going to be the one scooping me up? I glance around to see Jasim, but he must be out with the film crew. I leave a beaming Lamis, and step out into the early evening light.
Fuck, why did I agree to this? I’ve enjoyed all the pampering, but now I’ve got to run across the desert, chased by thirty or so horsemen, and be swept up into an unknown man’s arms. Hell, I hope he knows what he’s doing. What if he drops me and I get trampled beneath flying hooves? Bloody hell, it seemed simple in the planning, who did I let talk me into this? Sally. That’s who it was. Damn her for her flipping filming ideas. We should swap places, if only I knew how to work a camera.
I turn to Rais, walking by my side, “Who’s going to be in the lead? Who will be picking me up?”
He looks down, his smile enigmatic, “Not I,” he refutes, but doesn’t expand. When he leads me to a Jeep, and helps me inside, expertly gathering my skirts so they won’t trail out of the door, it seems the time for conversation is over. Whichever of his men it will be, I hope he’s a good rider.
I’m hit by both the ordinary and the extraordinary when we’ve driven only a short distance. Here, in the backdrop of dunes with the sun just behind, is Sally behind her camera, adjusting the tripod and calling out instructions. And then, there are the horses, stamping their feet and flicking their tails in the early evening light, a variety of colours, greys, bays, and one such a dark brown it looks almost black. Each man is in full ceremonial robes, scimitars in scabbards clanking against their boots. As the horses toss their heads, their bridles jingle. They’re a frightening bunch, almost making me believe this is real. It’s an ageless sight, one that could have come from any number of centuries past.
Unnerved, I look around for Jasim, but still I can’t see him.
“Wow. Fuck! You look bloody fantastic.” Sally approaches, holding a light meter up toward me, “Hey, I’m really going to be able to do something with this.” She indicates the dress I’m wearing. “Christ, it’s going to sparkle. And your face. I’ll need to zoom in and get a close up of that.” She pauses for breath, then points to a spot by a rock, “That’s your starting point. It’s simple. When I give the signal, all you’ve got to do is run, as fast as you can, in a straight line in that direction.” She waves to show me which way I should go.
All I’ve got to do? I roll my eyes, then glance warily at the loose ground, “What if I fall?”
She chuckles, “Oh don’t worry about that. I’ll make
sure to catch it on film. Would add authenticity. Just get up and start running again.”
Open mouthed, I turn to her, I had been joking. I didn’t really want to go head first into the ground and split my head open on a rock. And there’s enough of them lying around. What if the horse stumbles?
“I just run?”
“Yeah, and one of the riders will swoop down on you and sweep you into his arms. He’ll carry you away and I’ll stop filming then.”
“The sun is dropping.” Rais has come up alongside, and Ryan is with him. Again, I look around for Jasim, but he’s nowhere in sight. Isn’t Ryan supposed to be his bodyguard and at his side to protect him at all times? I feel my stomach drop, I’d wanted Jasim to see me in this dress, if the very male looks of appreciation Ryan’s giving me are anything to go by, I’m probably looking the best I’ve ever done in my life. Maybe he’s not even come to watch. Oh, well, it’s not to be, and he promised we’d be together when the time is right. Looking around, we wouldn’t have much opportunity to do more than suffer torture in each other’s presence. There’s not even a tent where we could steal a kiss. No, he’s probably got more important things to do, like staring at oil coming up from a well.
And then all thoughts of the man I want go from my mind as I hear men mounting up and realise my cue to start running will come soon. The sun sinks below the horizon fast here, we’ve only time for one take, and I mustn’t mess this up. Nervous, I start bouncing on the balls of my feet. What the hell was I thinking of, volunteering to do this? It’ll be great, they said. A virgin running over the sands, escaping from the horde of Arabs chasing after her. Fantastic footage they said. Yeah, great, my life put at risk for a few seconds of film.
Sally prods me in the back, and points to the rock. “Show time,” she grins.
I feel lonely as I walk to my mark, some way in front of the horses so she can get some shots of me running before they come into sight. It might be make believe, but suddenly it feels real, as though I’m not an actor on a film set, but a woman being genuinely chased by a sheikh to take for his pleasure. A woman wanting to escape her fate of being abducted and stolen. I’m just getting into character. My fear of the unknown has my heart in my mouth. Shouldn’t we have had a practice run? I decide on the spot a future career as a stuntman is not on the cards.
“Okay, Janna?”
As I turn and nod, Sally calls out, “Three, two, one. And GO!” And now it’s too late.
I pick up the long skirts of my dress and start running, as fast as I can and harder than I’ve ever run in my life. I’m running through the desert, my feet in soft ballet shoes hitting hot sand in the shadows of the dunes which are turning a brilliant gold in the light of the setting sun. My feet pound the ground, my lungs start heaving. And then I hear the thundering of hooves behind me, and the expression of terror on my face is not at all fake.
The sounds get closer, the lead horse must be nearing me. In a flash, I become conscious this has all happened so fast I’ve had no practice and no idea how this is going to work. How will he take me? Will my arm be wrenched from my socket? Will it hurt? I can only hope the rider knows exactly what he’s doing.
Frightened for real, I redouble my efforts as if there could be any chance I’d be able to outrun my pursuers, but the horse is much faster. So close now, I swear I can feel it’s warm breath on the back of my neck. Then I get a glimpse of dark horseflesh beside me, then two arms come around me and I’m swept up and into a stranger’s lap.
An involuntary scream escapes me, startled from me by shock. But I’m safe, I wasn’t harmed, and now the filming will stop. But the horse doesn’t. I wait for my captor to pull back on the reins but, if anything, he’s urging the horse to go faster. The sounds of the other riders behind us are fading away, and the beast I’m now riding is continuing on, its speed not even faltering. The hooves continue hitting the ground, so fast I can’t tell one hoof beat from another.
We’re heading away from Sally, away from the rest of the men. A glance behind shows me we’ve left them far behind. This wasn’t the plan.
I start to struggle, “Stop, stop! Please, stop!” I’m terrified. Who’s got me? And where is he taking me?
I push at the strong arms holding me, try to pry apart the hands holding both the reins and me tight. “Stop! Let me down.”
My struggles are getting frantic when I feel warm breath by my ear. “Shush. Stay still, I’ve got you, I won’t let you fall.”
I still. That voice…
“Shush,” he repeats, “It’s me.”
It’s Jasim.
Chapter 17
Jasim
When I decide I’m going after something, I’m all in and there’ll be no turning back. Neither do I hang around. Why waste time? Life’s too short, as they say. I’d let down my guard and allowed Janna in, perhaps for the first time ever letting a woman seduce me. Now it’s a matter of when and how, and not if.
When I’d arranged that they’d be filming today, the very day after they’d arrived in the desert, it was only so she could do a quick turn around and take her pretty little arse back to Al Qur’ah as quickly as humanly possible, so I didn’t have to cope with temptation placed in front of me every day. That, of course, was before she’d made her intentions so clear, and I’d decided the gift of her virginity was going to be mine to take.
Once my brain had caught up with my cock and dismissed the objections that had made me keep my distance, I had no desire to delay my gratification. If I couldn’t keep away, if she insisted I’m be the one to initiate her, there was only one decision remaining to me. How I was going to make it special. That once in a lifetime event she’d never be able to repeat.
It was a source of amusement that she’d set up her own abduction; I just piggy-backed on the plan she already had in motion. When I’d kissed her, I’d known then no other man was going to have her in his arms, however briefly. No, it would be me who’d be chasing her, capturing her, and taking her for my own. I was going to make her every fantasy come true.
With wry and unsuppressed laughter on their part, I enlisted the help of Ryan and Rais, the only ones in on my plan, though clever Lamis I think had seen through me. And like a well-oiled machine, everything came together without a hitch. Of course, being a rich prince of the desert has its advantages, including having enough money to ensure clothes can be bought and delivered at the speed of light. Choosing carefully for my enjoyment, I arranged for her to be dressed as a virgin ready for defiling tonight.
I’d stayed out of sight, hidden behind a vehicle, but from my vantage point able to watch as she strode onto the makeshift set, her white train flowing behind, the breeze in the air making it come alive. My breath caught in my throat at my first glimpse of her face. She’s so fucking beautiful, the clothing I’d dressed her in so much more complimentary and flattering than the clothes she normally wears on stage. I’d provided everything she’s wearing. Every fucking item. And I can only hope Lamis persuaded her to wear them all.
I’d seen the flicker of fear as she started to run, thirty horses stamping their feet, ready for the off, making her nervous, her anxiety making my heart speed up.
And now, the time has arrived for me to play my part.
Wrapping my keffiyeh carefully around my face, so only my eyes can be seen, I quickly mount the stallion Rais has provided. Raising my arm in the pre-arranged signal, I dig in my heels, and the powerful beast leaps forward. Although she’s been given a head start, we’re upon her in little more than seconds. Balancing myself with my legs, I lean over and grasp her in my arms, swinging her up until she’s sitting in front of me. I’d learned to ride in my youth, and such circus tricks formed part of my education.
Behind my scarf I smile to myself. She doesn’t know yet she’s been captured by her sheikh. Her perfume surrounds me, the aphrodisiac oils I’d told Lamis to use. But she needs no fake enhancements, her natural aroma is enough on its own. Her long hair flares out behind her, whipped
by the desert wind and, as I scoop up the train to prevent it tripping the horse, her dress sparkles in the embers of the dying sun. I’m becoming impatient and can’t wait to take her so carefully chosen clothing off.
She’s on the saddle in front of me, my swollen cock pressing into her cute arse. Her lungs are heaving, panting from the run and the shock. I sense she’s scared as we leave the others behind, so quickly I seek to reassure her. The way she relaxes immediately at the sound of my voice, leaning back into my arms, trusting me to take care of her, causes my gut to clench with some unknown emotion
The light’s fading now, and we’ve covered a great distance, everyone else left far behind. I pull gently on the reins, and the dark bay stallion I’m riding slows, reducing our speed from gallop to canter, and then to a trot and quickly, so Janna doesn’t get bounced and jostled, to a steady walk.
As the wind rushing past us reduces to a gentle breeze, I squeeze her gently, “Are you alright?”
“Huh, now I’ve got over the shock.” She tries to turn in my arms, “Why you, Jasim? You frightened me to death! I thought I was being kidnapped for real. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? And where are we going?”
Her movement has unsteadied the horse who begins to prance, it’s one of Rais’s racing stallions, not one I’m familiar with and though I’m a good rider I’m two up on an unknown mount. “Stay still, habiti.” The Arab endearment shocks me as it falls from my lips, but strangely, it sounds so right, “Just sit still and let me keep you safe.” Though there are few horses that can better me—I was riding almost before I could walk—I’m not willing to risk my precious cargo.
Dark Horses: (Blood Brothers #5) Page 17