Oh, Jesus in heaven above, Harry thought as he almost knocked over a chair in his rush to get to the stairs and find Tom and the others. The CIA?! Oh, hell, that’s black ops shit and all that! If we get caught—WHEN we get caught—there ain’t gonna be no “Right to an attorney” or shit like that. Nope. We’ll just disappear. Gone. Poof!
Harry ran up the narrow stairwell towards the cabins, taking two steps at a time, his nose clogging up with dried blood and mucus as he gasped for air. Finally he got to Tom’s cabin and pounded on the door. No answer. Down the hall towards Dick’s cabin, but before he got there Harry stopped in his tracks when he heard Tom and Jane’s voices coming from across the hall—from his buddy Al’s cabin. Rizaak Al-Khawas. The Sheikh of Khawas. The goddamn mastermind who had played all of them, who had put a goddamn “Shoot at Sight” target on all their heads!
Harry was about to knock, but for some reason he held back and listened for a moment. As the words coming through the door registered, Harry cursed under his breath, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and then checked his gun as he tried to figure out what the hell his next move was going to be.
23
The sound of metal sliding against metal roused Cristy, and she sat up quickly from the hard wooden lower-level bunk she had selected.
“OUCH!” she cried as she hit her head on the bunk above. “Shit!”
She ducked her head and swung her legs off the bunk, staring down at her bare feet, her filthy blue skirt, that blouse that was barely covering her chest even though she had tied the ends together to make up for the missing buttons. She rubbed her head till the sharp pain of impact went away, cursing once more as a dull throb took its place.
She stood now, staring towards the metal door as she saw the large handle shift down. Cristy braced herself now, preparing to rush Harry the moment he entered and turned to close the door behind him. It had worked with Malone, hadn’t it? It would work again. It HAD to work again! What other chance did she have?! She couldn’t trust that pig Harry! Even if he HAD saved her, it wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart! It wasn’t because of compassion, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to show any compassion to him, to that bottom feeding scumbag!
Now she glanced up at the bright white tubelight, and with a gasp she ran to the switch and flipped it, plunging the below-deck metal room into utter darkness. Her panic rose in reflex, but Cristy swallowed her fear and took several deep breaths and told herself that this was for all the marbles, that if she managed to take Harry down, she’d be free—sort of free, at least!
But if you don’t knock him out, the twin-headed monster of fear and self-doubt whispered in Cristy’s ear as she watched the door open . . . yes, if you don’t knock him out, then you’re done for, Cristy. Whatever excuse Harry might have had to treat you like a human being is out the window. Maybe you should back down, sit quiet, submit, obey. That’s your best chance, Cristy, that voice told her.
“Shut up, you pussy,” she snarled under her breath, almost making herself laugh as the nervous energy bubbled over. Now she could see the shadowy figure enter, and Cristy screwed her bare feet into the cold metal floor, wound her body up, and then RAN at him with everything she had.
With a bloodcurdling SCREAM she flung herself at him as he turned to close the door, but he was surprisingly quick and he WHIPPED around and out of the way, at the same time GRABBING her by both arms and pulling her back with such force that Cristy felt both feet lift clean off the floor as he tried to wrap her up with his arms.
“No, you DON’T!” she shouted, turning her body in his arms and SWINGING with her right hand, now her left, feeling her half-clenched fists colliding with the back of his neck, his shoulders, his head, and she FLAILED as she tried to strike him, but he was too strong, too powerful, too tall . . . too tall?
“Cristy, stop!” he roared now, and he moved his head out of the way as she tried to bite him. “Are you mad? It is me, Cristy! It is me, Rizaak! It is RIZAAK, by Allah!”
She managed to get one last whack in before Rizaak got full control, and only now did his voice come through her overloaded brain, only now did his words register, only now did his unique, devastatingly familiar smell come through . . .
And as he held her and pulled her close, she swooned in his arms, going limp as the relief set in alongside a panic that she was dreaming and this wasn’t real, that nothing was real, that nothing would ever be real again . . .
24
“Did I do that?”
Cristy looked up into his dark eyes. The lights were still off, but she could see his face clearly, she thought. There was blood on his neck—a thin streak that stretched sideways, probably from her nails.
“You did indeed,” Rizaak whispered, his smile breaking now as Cristy saw the relief wash over his face. “Are you all right, my Cristy? Are you OK? Harry swore he has not touched you, but I trust him about as much as I trust the sharks swimming alongside the ship.”
“There are sharks swimming alongside the ship?” Cristy asked as she blinked away the disturbing image of gigantic sharks jumping into the air around the ship, their massive jaws snapping as their beady black eyes scanned the decks for prey. “Oh, God, Rizaak!”
Rizaak laughed and gently kissed her nose. “No,” he whispered through his smile as he kissed her smooth round cheeks, his warmth easing her body as she turned her head up and closed her eyes once before opening them again. “And anyway,” Rizaak said, “sharks are actually not very dangerous. I have swum with tiger sharks and makos, even a great white once. They completely ignored me. It was almost insulting, actually.”
Now Cristy laughed as she looked up at Rizaak. She was lying on that long wooden table, and Rizaak was leaning over her as he knelt on the bench that ran alongside. She smiled as he caressed her face, purred as he lovingly straightened out some knots in her hopelessly ravaged, disgustingly tangled hair. With every touch she could feel warmth and energy flow through her body, as if their bodies were literally creating energy and power out of the ether itself, like how the two poles of a magnet can generate electricity if positioned just right, one close to the other, so close . . .
“I bet you wish I had ignored you just now, though,” Cristy said as she touched the fresh cut on Rizaak’s neck. The cut wasn’t deep, but the blood still flowed, and Cristy watched as some of it gathered on her fingertip.
She drew her finger away from him, holding it up between their faces, now focusing on the blood again. It looked black in the dim light that slipped through the crack under the door, and Cristy felt that strange, otherworldly tingle in her again as she glanced into his eyes.
There were so many questions to ask about what was going on, about how Rizaak had found her, about how he seemed to have talked to Harry, about . . . about . . . about what . . . who . . . where . . . what’s going on now . . . why is everything spinning . . .
Where am I, she thought as she felt Rizaak’s warm hand trace its way along the side of her body.
Who am I, she thought as Rizaak kissed her neck, her shoulders, his breath hot against her skin.
What’s happening, she thought, shuddering as Rizaak’s hand moved beneath her skirt, his fingers pressing against her naked flesh, his breath seizing when he realized she had no panties on, that she was bare beneath that skirt, hot beneath that skirt, wet beneath that skirt . . .
She closed her eyes and gasped as she spread her thighs for him. She was wet and sticky between her legs, but the wetness was fresh, clean, new, and because she had no panties on she could feel her thighs coated and slick, slick for him.
“Please,” she heard herself say as she sucked on her finger, tasting his blood as she felt his fingers push their way into her warm, dripping slit. “Oh, God, PLEASE!”
He was on the table with her now, grunting as he unbuckled and unzipped, ripping off his trousers as he hiked her skirt up over her hips and spread her thick legs as wide as they could go. Cristy could feel a warm breeze around her naked crotch as
she spread her legs and raised her hips, arching her neck back as she felt the most overwhelming arousal SURGE through her entire body.
She bucked her hips into him as he licked her between her legs, the Sheikh grunting like an animal as Cristy snorted and heaved, writhed and flailed. He flicked at her stiff clit, licked her swollen lips, tasted her depths with quick, desperate jabs of his thick tongue. Now he was on his knees, twisting as he pulled off his underwear, and Cristy turned as she tried to sit up and reach for him even as his cock SPRUNG out of his underwear. She cried out as she grasped his hardness, pulled on his cock as his body stiffened, a deep groan emerging from his lips.
Rizaak’s erection was so full that Cristy could barely contain it with one hand, and he looked HUGE as she caught a glimpse of his cock in the darkness, its red tip shining with his fresh juice, his shaft glistening and dark, and she was operating on pure instinct now as she feverishly rubbed his heavy, warm balls as she pulled him close, her fingers tight around his cock. Her arousal scared her. Her need shocked her. Her thoughts mortified her. Here, in the surreal darkness of this metal prison, this abandoned room below decks, she felt so far away from the real world, so far away from the conventions and morals of society, morals that seemed laughable, pitiful, unreal now.
She felt his hands grasp her hair now, gripping a fistful down near the roots at the back of her head, and Rizaak pulled her face close to his cock as she clambered to her knees on the wooden table. Within seconds she took him in, ALL the way in, her lips stretching full as his girth filled her mouth so completely she almost choked in shock.
“Ya, ALLAH!” he shouted as he pushed himself into her mouth, his grip on her hair so tight it hurt. “Ya malika!”
He was upright on his knees as she went down on him, reveling in the way he was controlling her, taking over, pushing her head down as he thrust into her mouth. She needed this right now, needed to just let go, needed to just be in his control right now, to give up control for just a fleeting moment.
I am yours, my king, she thought as she sucked him with all her strength, taking gigantic breaths of air through her nose, exhaling so hard that snot was blasting out with each breath, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth as she sucked with everything she had.
Rizaak was leaning forward as he drove his cock into her mouth, his long arms reaching all the way down across the back of her short body, both hands SLAPPING down on her upturned bottom now as she gagged from the force of his thrusts.
“Baladay malikat al'iilhia!” he roared as he spread her buttocks from above and ran his finger along her rear crack in the most filthy, erotic, AROUSING way possible, tapping her hole as she felt her wetness literally DRIP onto the table from her wide open slit.
“Baladi 'iilhatan!” Rizaak shouted again as he SPANKED her from above.
“Baladi 'iilhatan,” she repeated, her eyes going wide as she pulled back from his cock and muttered the strange Arabic words while saliva and pre-cum poured from her mouth onto his throbbing cock as she gasped and trembled in utter disbelief at the arousal raging inside her. “Baladi 'iilhatan!” she screamed as Rizaak now flipped her around and SLAPPED her rump once again as he spread her rear cheeks and licked her with long strokes, his tongue tracing its way from her lower back all the way along her dark crack and down beneath to her pussy that was clenching so tight that she was afraid she was having a seizure.
“I cannot hold back, Cristy,” Rizaak muttered as he licked her again, spanked her once more, clutched the outside of her thighs now, his fingers DIGGING into the soft flesh like the claws of an animal. “It is too much. You are too much. Ya, Allah, I do not know if it is the angels or the demons that are with us now in the darkness, but I cannot control myself. I CANNOT!”
“Don’t you dare control yourself,” Cristy gurgled as she bent over and spread for him, her eyes going wide as she felt his finger circle her rear hole even as Rizaak pressed the swollen head of his cock to her clenched, soaked pussy. “Don’t you DARE, Rizaak!”
And as the darkness seemed to deepen around Cristy, the shadows stretching and dancing around their feverishly tangled bodies, she heard him ROAR like a goddamn animal and now he pushed his cock ALL the way inside her wet pussy, STRETCHING her swollen lips so wide she SCREAMED in pain, HOWLED in ecstasy, WAILED in delirium. And as he pulled back and RAMMED his way in for that first thrust, Cristy felt his wet finger slide deep into her asshole as his cock filled her cunt, and her mouth just hung open as she felt the drool pour down her lips, her eyes roll up in her head, her breath seize for a moment.
They grunted and groaned, whimpered and moaned, the two of them like animals in the night, and Cristy could see demons in the shadows around them, now angels in the darkness above them, and the demons were dancing with the angels, gods and goddesses fornicating to the left, pixies and gnomes jumping with glee to the right, and she was going mad, she knew, going to hell she knew, already in heaven, she was sure . . .
She could feel every part of her body vibrate as Rizaak pulled back and pushed in, his hips SLAMMING against her ass as he took her with the abandon of an animal, and his finger inside her rear felt so filthy that it was driving her insane, and through the magic and the chaos, the fever and the heat, Cristy thought she SAW her orgasm approaching in the distance, and her orgasm looked like a nine-headed beast with no name, tentacles and scales all over, shining purple and red, golden and green, flashing silver as it thrashed its way towards her in the darkness, and she was coughing and spitting as she thrashed under his thrusts, sobbing in ecstasy as she clawed at the wooden tabletop, her fingernails cracking as her body seized up.
Now Rizaak abruptly pulled out of her, and she SCREAMED in anger, HOWLED with rage, SHOUTED with indignation as her pussy clenched in its emptiness, her wetness poured out of her in protest, her vagina burned with fury, yearned to be filled again, filled completely, right now, right goddamn NOW!
“RIZAAK!” she screamed as she swung her arms in the darkness, trying desperately to find him, to grasp his cock and guide it back to where it was needed right now. “Rizaak, you BASTARD!”
“Here,” he growled in her ear, and now he GRABBED her by the hair and pulled her up to her knees, turning her around as she screamed in shock. “Climb up and sit on my throne, my queen. Come now. Be a good queen. Ride me. Ride your king and let me explode up inside you like I need to right now. Come now. Obey. OBEY!”
Rizaak sat cross-legged in the middle of the table, and Cristy gasped as she looked down from where she knelt and saw his cock standing straight up, rising like a glistening post in the darkness, looking incredibly long, unfathomably thick, awesomely hard.
“Obey,” he said again in the darkness, and his right arm gripped the back of her neck, his left hand grasping her breast as he pulled her to him, guiding her towards that gigantic, waiting cock, its red tip oozing fresh pre-cum. “Obey your king,” he whispered again as Cristy slowly came towards him on her knees, her body trembling with arousal, pussy clenching with need, every sense heightened to the point of insanity . . . to the point where insanity had been left far behind, it seemed.
“Yes, my king,” she heard herself say in the darkness, and again it sounded like another woman speaking, like many women speaking, perhaps all the women in the world, all the women she had ever been, past lives and future lives combining in the present, merging into one life, one soul, one destiny . . .
She spread her thighs and raised one leg and mounted him, and her mouth opened wide in sympathy as she felt the head of his cock part her dark lips, stretching them in a way that felt BEYOND real.
“Take me into you,” Rizaak muttered as he slid his hands beneath her bottom and gripped tight, fingers digging into the globes of her ass as he pulled her down onto his cock. “All the way in. So deep. Ya, Allah, so DEEP!”
“So deep,” Cristy muttered as she felt him enter her, his cock feeling like a post, a tree trunk, a goddamn pillar pushing its way inside, all the way inside. “Oh, GOD, so
deep.”
And now that nine-headed beast of an orgasm turned to her in the darkness and pointed all its tentacles at her as she rose and sank on his monster of a cock, and those tentacles of ecstasy were circling her girth now, wrapping themselves around her fully flexed thighs, her breasts that bounced free as Rizaak licked and bit at them, sucked and salivated . . .
“So deep,” she whispered again as Rizaak raised her up and brought her down HARD on his cock, that shaft driving so deep Cristy’s eyes rolled up in her head again, and she felt herself go into a slow, rumbling convulsion as all she felt was him driving up into her, and all she saw was that image of her orgasm closing in . . .
25
Ya, Allah, so DEEP!
Rizaak was beyond himself, beside himself, outside himself as he watched her descend onto his cock, as he felt himself slide deep into her warm vagina, his girth pressing against every inch of her inner walls, her heat making him so hard, her wetness making him so damn hot.
“Obey,” he heard himself say, and it was like another man speaking, another man but still him, like it was a part of his spirit that spoke, the sound carrying a depth that seemed to traverse through time, span through space, reach across the cosmos, reminding him of those words again and again:
She will come out of nowhere, and then suddenly she will be everywhere!
Hostage for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 3) Page 11