Sheik

by Mason, Connie

  “You’re ready for me again, sweet vixen,” Jamal whispered into her ear. He lifted her atop him. “Take me inside you.”

  She opened her legs and straddled him, gasping as he slid effortlessly into her wet passage. She felt herself stretching but it did not hurt. He gripped her hard and bucked his hips, and then she was riding him shamelessly, unable to resist the promise of pleasure. Anger at Jamal for using his sexual prowess to turn her into an obedient slave honed her passion to a sharp edge, and when she reached that ultimate peak, passion and anger combined to create a burst of incredible sensation. She climaxed violently. Jamal shouted with the pure joy of it and tumbled into a whirlpool of incandescent bliss.

  Zara was asleep before Jamal plucked her off him and laid her down beside him. Then something remarkable happened. As he watched her sleep, renewed desire clutched hotly at his groin. If he hadn’t just taken Zara twice he would have understood it, but this was something totally new and utterly incomprehensible to him. He wanted to take Zara again and again, to fill her with his body, to make her desire him as fiercely as he desired her. But he knew she’d be sore if he took her again so he was content to lie beside her while he attempted to come to grips with what had just happened between them. No other woman had ever made him feel the things Zara did.

  Jamal had already left when Zara awoke the next morning. She was surprised to find herself still in his bed. Golden sunshine streamed through the open door, and the room was redolent with incense. In the light of day the fragrance seemed heavy and cloying, whereas last night it had created an aura of sensuality. Allah help her. She hadn’t realized how Jamal’s lovemaking would affect her when she’d agreed to become his love slave. She’d be fortunate to escape with her soul intact. As for her heart, she didn’t dare think about that.

  Zara stretched, groaning when her muscles protested. She ached in all those intimate places Jamal had spent hours exploring last night. The thought of soaking in a warm bath brought a smile to her lips. It was fortunate Jamal had a private hammam, for the thought of sharing a bath with Jamal’s concubines filled her with dread. She knew she couldn’t compete sexually with the skillful concubines and preferred to keep to herself rather than be questioned about her night with Jamal.

  The bath was as soothing as Zara had known it would be. Someone, Hammet no doubt, had left jasmine soap and a stack of drying cloths for her use, and she lay back in the scented water and closed her eyes.

  “You stayed with him all night!”

  Zara’s eyes flew open. She groaned aloud when she saw Saha advancing toward her, her face contorted with rage. Zara scooted down in the water as Saha stood at the edge of the tub, staring at her with hatred.

  “What are you doing in Jamal’s bath?”

  “What are you doing in Jamal’s chambers?” Zara shot back.

  “I go where I wish. I am not Jamal’s slave, you are. No woman has ever spent the entire night in Jamal’s bed. You bewitched him,” Saha charged.

  Zara’s lips thinned. “Leave me, Lady Saha. I wish to bathe in private.”

  “You put on pretty airs for a slave, Zara. Jamal will soon tire of you and return to the loving arms of his concubines.”

  “You are welcome to Jamal if you think you can please him,” Zara taunted. “When was the last time you or the others shared his bed?”

  Saha gave her a dangerous half-smile. “Be wary, slave, for you may not live much longer to please our lord.” She turned and stalked away.

  Zara tried to ignore the concubine’s jealousy as she finished her bath. She was just reaching for the drying cloth when Jamal strode into the hammam. He squatted beside the tub and smiled at her. “I’m glad you availed yourself of my bath.” He reached down and lifted her from the water.

  Zara reached for the drying cloth but Jamal brushed her hands aside and took up the task himself. “Are you sore?” he asked when he drew the cloth between her legs and saw her wince.

  “A little,” she admitted.

  “I was pleased with you last night. I wasn’t expecting a virgin. Tonight I’ll show you how silver balls can be used to give pleasure.”

  Zara swallowed convulsively, his words conjuring up erotic fantasies. “Tonight? Perhaps one of your other women—”

  Jamal grimaced. “They do not appeal to me. Nay, Zara, you will come to me tonight. Hammet will escort you. Now, are you hungry? Hammet has brought food to break your fast. I ate earlier but will take tea with you.”

  “I have nothing to wear.” Her words were curt, her manner abrupt. Allah, she wanted to hate him for what he’d made of her. He had given her incredible pleasure, but it had cost her her pride.

  “Hammet has brought a caftan for you to wear. You’ll find it in my bed chamber.”

  After donning the caftan, Zara ate heartily of tart yogurt, fresh melon, figs and sweet honey cakes. Jamal watched her eat, his gaze fastened hungrily on her lips. When she finished, she dabbed at her lips with her napkin and said, “I would like to see my father now.”

  “I assumed you would. I gave Hammet the key. He’ll escort you. I have business in the village and won’t see you again until you join me tonight.”

  He cupped her cheek, his sultry gaze dark with promise. “I can hardly wait, sweet vixen. Wear nothing but a cloak over your nakedness when you come to me tonight.” Then he leaned forward, licked the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “And wear the emerald. I love the contrast of vivid green against the white flesh of your breasts.”

  Zara could think of nothing to say as Jamal strode from the chamber. She was still collecting her wits when Hammet entered, bowed low and said, “I will take you to your father, lady.”

  Zara scrambled to her feet, wincing at the unexpected soreness between her thighs. “I am ready, Hammet.”

  Youssef stared at Zara when she entered his prison, seeking signs that would reveal her state of well-being. Had she succumbed to the handsome sheik? he wondered. Had he hurt her? Allah, he felt so helpless.

  “Father!” Zara fell into Youssef’s arms, hating to see him cooped up in an airless room barely large enough to turn around in. The longer she took to form an escape plan, the more her father would suffer. She could do it, she knew she could. But at what cost to her emotions? she wondered. How long could she control her feelings with a vigorous lover like Jamal tempting her, making her feel sinful things she didn’t understand?

  “Are you all right, daughter?” Youssef asked. “You look pale. Did that devil hurt you? Or did you give up on that dangerous plan you were bent upon?”

  Zara didn’t have the courage to look her father in the eye. “I’m not hurt, Father, truly. Jamal was … gentle. But all that doesn’t matter,” she went on in a rush. “It won’t be long before I have his trust. And when I do I will use that trust to gain our freedom. I will be no man’s slave.”

  Youssef’s strong, hawk-nosed features turned fierce. “You are a good daughter, Zara. I do not deserve your sacrifice. I will kill Lord Jamal for what he has done to you. Once I am free, I will not rest until he is punished.”

  “Forget Jamal, Father. He will return to the sea and pirating soon. It is the sultan we must battle for our freedom. Our raids must continue upon Ishmail’s caravans, only next time we’ll be more careful. We’ll use the sultan’s money to pay the taxes he levies against our people.”

  Youssef smiled. “You are a true zealot, Zara. Were all Berbers as fiercely loyal as you, we would be free men today, in control of our own cities.”

  “’Tis time to leave, lady,” Hammet said, appearing in the doorway. “I am to return you to the harem.”

  Zara did not relish the thought of returning to the harem. She had much more to say to her father, but Hammet was adamant.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Father,” she assured him as Hammet closed and locked the door behind her.

  To Zara’s chagrin, all three concubines were lounging in the main room when she entered. She tried to ignore t
hem but Leila invited her to take refreshments with them. Not wishing to gain their ill-will, she acquiesced, albeit reluctantly.

  “Is not Jamal a magnificent lover?” Amar asked with sly innuendo. “Did he enjoy you? Jamal rarely enjoys virgins. They are so unskilled they’re pathetic. Virginity is unusual in a woman of your advanced age.”

  Zara gasped, surprised that her state of virginity was fodder for gossip. “Who told you?”

  “We have ways,” Saha said smugly. “Nothing is private in a household this size. What does Jamal intend to do with you now that he’s had you?”

  “Perhaps he’ll sell her,” Amar suggested hopefully.

  Suddenly Nafisa bustled into the room. “Ah, Zara, here you are. Come with me. If you are to attend Jamal again tonight, you must be properly groomed.”

  Three pairs of eyes narrowed on Zara, their dismay obvious.

  “It cannot be!” Saha protested.

  Nafisa nodded sagely. “Hammet would not lie.”

  Saha’s pouting red lips curved downward. “Zara is not Jamal’s type. She is scrawny and not at all womanly.”

  Zara had had just about all she could take of Jamal’s women. “Jamal must have found something he liked about me,” she taunted. “Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to rest. I had little sleep last night.”

  Saha screamed out in rage, and it was obvious that neither Leila nor Amar was pleased with Zara’s words.

  Zara walked away, head high, chin raised. She might be a slave now but she wouldn’t be one for long. If all went according to plan, she would be gone soon and Jamal’s women would be welcome to him. It wasn’t as if she had deliberately set out to entice the sheik. Submitting to him had been difficult, given her independent nature and fierce temperament. Once returned to her own people, she intended to forget Sheik Jamal and the ecstasy she’d found in his arms.

  Chapter Nine

  Zara awoke from a long nap hungry and thirsty. A tall glass of fruit juice and a bowl of yogurt that someone had thoughtfully left on the table for her beckoned, and she drank greedily of the refreshing liquid. Then she ate the yogurt, relishing the sweet/tart taste.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” Nafisa said as she bustled into the chamber. “It grows late. There is much to be done before you go to Jamal.”

  To Zara’s chagrin, Jamal’s concubines watched closely as she bathed and made herself ready for Jamal. She couldn’t help thinking they were looking for flaws, so intently did they stare at her. Let them stare, Zara thought, ignoring them. If they only knew how desperate she was to leave this place, they wouldn’t be harassing her.

  The sun was slowly sinking when Hammet came for her. This time she didn’t go to Jamal naked as he had requested. Instead she donned a gold and turquoise caftan that enhanced the golden tones of her skin. Though it wasn’t Zara’s nature to be submissive to a man, she wanted to appear attractive to Jamal for her father’s sake. Her father’s freedom was more important than her pride. One day Jamal would be made to pay for enslaving her and she hoped it would be soon. Before she lost more than her pride.

  Jamal could barely stand the waiting. He paced his chamber restlessly, waiting for the door to open to admit Zara. He had possessed her just as he’d set out to do, but he felt as if he’d been the one possessed. After partaking freely of Zara’s passion, he no longer desired his concubines. His need for Zara was almost obsessive and he was frightened by it.

  Jamal was already hard by the time Zara stepped into the chamber, illuminating the room with her incandescent spirit and haunting beauty. Suddenly he had no appetite for the tempting food placed upon the table for his enjoyment; he wanted to feast solely upon Zara’s succulent flesh, sate himself with her sweet body. His smile was almost feral as he beckoned her forward. His gaze followed her undulating body, admiring the way her lush charms were displayed beneath the turquoise and gold caftan. He wanted her and he wanted her now. Food and drink could wait.

  Zara felt the heat of Jamal’s gaze upon her and found it difficult to breathe. Just setting one foot in front of the other proved a chore. The look in his eyes held her in thrall. She hated the way he made her feel, despised pretending to be submissive to his wants, even though she was beginning to crave those very same delights she abhorred. She had to leave soon, before her mind accepted her role in Jamal’s life and her body hungered for his caresses. She was a Berber princess, not a slave dependent upon the will of her master.

  “You’re beautiful,” Jamal said. His dark eyes glowed with appreciation as he grasped her hand and drew her down beside him on a mound of cushions. “You have bewitched me, sweet vixen.”

  “That was not my intention, my lord,” Zara said, though in truth that was exactly what she had set out to do.

  “It wasn’t my intention to become besotted with you,” Jamal admitted candidly. “Food and drink pale in comparison to my need for you.”

  His words were more powerfully arousing than the drug she had been given the first time she’d lain with Jamal. Zara tried to ignore them but Jamal’s hands upon her body were forceful reminders. When she tried to passively accept his kisses, Jamal sensed her withdrawal and would not allow it. In a very short time he had stripped her naked, driving her wild with his talented mouth, tongue and hands. He couldn’t wait. He had to have her now.

  He entered her swiftly, unable to prolong their joining a moment longer. He felt like an eager boy with his first woman.

  “I’m sorry, my love, for being impatient. You tempt me beyond reason,” he murmured as he thrust full and deep inside her. “But the night is young and we will taste ecstasy many times before the sun rises.”

  Zara arched sharply upward, meeting Jamal’s deep thrusts with a cry of gladness despite her vow to remain unmoved by his loving. Grasping his hips, she undulated beneath him, with him, against him, until her soul left her body and she exploded violently. Moaning and gasping, Jamal climaxed in a frenzy of intense feeling, then collapsed upon Zara, burying his head against her neck as his heartbeat slowed to a steady pounding.

  Once he regained his strength, Jamal reared up and stared at her, clearly baffled by the depth of his feelings for his slave. There was no explanation for the way Zara had burrowed beneath his skin to touch his heart. There were no answers to why he had allowed such a thing to happen. He harbored no special tenderness for his concubines. Only Zara, his slave, had reached him on a level that went deeper than sexual gratification.

  “I don’t know what you’ve done to me, sweet vixen, but I suddenly find myself wanting more of you than you’re willing to give. Surrender to me, Zara. Give yourself wholly into my keeping. Admit it, you want me as desperately as I want you.”

  “I cannot help the way my body responds, Jamal. You are an expert, whereas I am a novice. But know this, my lord, my heart and mind utterly reject what I’ve become.”

  Jamal was silent a long time. When he finally spoke, his words shocked Zara.

  “Would you yield all to me if I made you my wife?”

  “Your wife! Nay! You cannot mean it.” She felt as if she were suffocating. To be Jamal’s wife would compromise her beliefs, her very existence. She could not bear the burden. “You would not be happy with me. I cannot compete with your concubines.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Jamal allowed. “But I’ve always found it difficult to resist a challenge. And you, sweet vixen, are a challenge worth pursuing.”

  “Jamal, I—” Words stuck in her throat.

  “We will speak of it later.” His eyes glowed darkly, promising untold delights. “If you are rested we will explore more fully the erotic love play I spoke of before. Are you ready to learn the secret of the silver balls?”

  Zara stared at him. “I don’t think—”

  “You’re not supposed to think, only to feel.” He slid down her body, pressing her legs apart with the palms of his hands. Using tepid water and soft cloths left for that purpose, he cleansed his seed from her body and his. Then he bent his head and kissed her
smooth mound, finding her joy spot with the tip of his tongue.

  He caressed and loved her with his mouth, savoring the taste and scent of her. After several minutes in which they were both distracted, he reached for a small velvet pouch he had placed nearby. Zara watched warily as he pulled the drawstring and released two round silver objects into his palm.

  “There is nothing to fear,” Jamal said, holding up two smooth, perfectly symmetrical balls for her inspection. “I promise you will like them and even ask to be pleasured with them in the future.”

  Zara doubted it. Despite the years during which she’d ridden with her father and associated with men, she was basically innocent. Until Jamal had shown her, she’d been ignorant of the many and diverse erotic pleasures possible.

  “Open for me, love,” Jamal said, his voice husky as he stared at the dewy pink flesh between her legs. “Relax,” he whispered as he slid one small silver ball into her moist passage and waited for her to adjust to the strangeness. Then he spread her with his thumbs and inserted the second silver ball.

  The two balls bounced against one another and Zara jerked violently as intense pleasure spiraled through her. “What’s happening?”

  “Tell me how you feel.”

  “I feel… Allah help me … I feel as if my insides are on fire.” She shifted positions and the tiny balls bounced against one another, sending shards of pure rapture radiating through her veins. The powerful climax that resulted was a volatile combination of agony and ecstasy. She writhed and cried out. “Blessed Allah, the pleasure! I cannot bear the pleasure.”

  “Bear it, sweet vixen, bear it and remember.” Grasping her hips, he tilted them to the right, causing Zara to gasp and cry out again. Then he tipped her hips to the left and Zara rushed headlong to another fierce orgasm. Overcome by delirium, she lost all sense of reality.

  “No more, please, no more,” she begged weakly. “You’re killing me.”