Flames for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 2)

by Annabelle Winters

  Do you know it, little Jenny? he wondered as he smiled down at her blushing round face, her genuine modesty perhaps breaking through and reminding her that she was half naked on the open deck of a boat, that a man she had met three hours ago had just made her come hard and was holding her now, looking at her with all the intensity he had, all the passion he had. All of it.

  Do you know how different this feels for me? he wondered again as he touched her hair, gently teasing open a series of loose knots that the wind had lovingly tied into her thick brown tresses.

  No, he decided as he kissed her forehead. You do not know, and perhaps even I do not know. Perhaps it is just that I am going temporarily mad from the arousal and I just need to—

  “Oh, Kabeer,” Jenny whispered as she looked down along his naked chest and abs, her hand reaching for the hardness that was pushing against the front of his trousers, pushing against the cloth and making his crotch so tight it hurt. “You’re so hard.”

  All thoughts vanished like smoke in the night, and Kabeer grunted and shuddered out a smile as he took her soft hand and guided it firmly around the outline of his cock. He shuddered again as he felt her fingers close hard around his girth, his muscles tensing up as he pressed his body into hers where they stood.

  “Ya, Allah,” he muttered into her hair as she pulled at his cock, slowly and firmly going back and forth through the cloth. “I need that. I need it.”

  He undid his belt as she worked him, his groans and pants increasing as she pulled harder, his fingers shaking as he undid the top button of his fitted black trousers that were straining at the seams from his bulging need. Now he pushed back and unzipped, letting the silky smooth trousers drop all the way to the polished wooden deck. He stepped out of the crumpled cloth, looking down at the peaked tower in his black Italian underwear.

  He was about to push his underwear down when Jenny was back against him, her body slamming against his so quickly it surprised him, aroused him, got him harder, hard as hell. Now she slipped her warm hand down the front of his underwear as he furiously kissed her lips, pushing his tongue into her mouth with desperation as he felt her fingers find their way around his swollen girth.

  “Oh, God, Kabeer,” she gurgled as he kissed her harder. “Here. Let me—”

  She began to pull his underwear down over his tight hips, lowering herself to the deck floor as she did it, but Kabeer grabbed her tight around the upper arms and shook his head firmly.

  “No,” he said. “That is not what I want right now.”

  He pulled back from her and strode quickly to where a set of thick red towels were neatly folded in a stack, and he grabbed two and opened them up. The red cloth billowed in the wind as he shook them open and then placed them on the brown boards of the smooth wooden deck.

  “Come here,” he said, his jaw set as he reached for her hand. “Down.”

  She hesitated for a moment, but just a moment, and now his arm was around her naked waist. A swift kiss—hard and raw like he meant it—and then Kabeer had pulled her half-lowered tights and panties all the way down to her ankles as he helped her sit on the soft towels.

  He could smell her as he pulled the tights and panties off her feet and flung them over his head, gasping as the warm, clean aroma of her sex came to him in a rush that made him dizzy with need. Ya, Allah, she smelled so good. Smelled like a woman. Like HIS woman.

  “Keep the bra strap on,” he ordered as he squeezed her breasts once more before pushing her down onto her back and then raising her bra cups, releasing the full globes of her soft white breasts. “I like how your bra looks pushed up over your breasts, your nipples sticking up like pink domes, peaked like minarets.”

  Jenny’s tongue darted out and curled up over her top lip, and her neck arched back as Kabeer pressed his fully naked, rock-hard body down on top of hers, running his tongue up her neck, to her lips, into her mouth, licking her face now as he felt his cock naturally push against the delicate clump of hair covering the front of her sex, forcing her legs open as it sought her secret opening.

  His underwear was still on, wet with his fresh pre-cum, and he went back on his knees and pushed them down, immediately releasing his heavy, full, engorged cock.

  “Oh, GOD, Kabeer,” Jenny gasped as she looked down past herself at his thick cock, brown and heavy, the monstrous shaft wet with his own fluids, the swollen head dark red and glistening in the sunlight.

  She hunched over now, reaching for him, his hardness, and Kabeer grimaced in ecstasy as she stroked the underside of his cock, her other hand massaging his heavy balls as he stayed suspended above her, looking down at her. She looked so bloody hot from above—her smooth round face contorted with desire, her magnificent breasts pressed together as she hunched up, that delicate triangle of brown hair shielding her sex in a feminine way that was bringing him close to orgasm already.

  His eyes glazed over as he took in the sight of her shaking body, naked and smooth, her curves glistening in the sunshine. Her nipples were bright red and stiff like bullets standing on end, and he lowered himself and sucked hard on each one as he teased the top of her slit with his swollen tip. She shook and shivered as he ran the broad, oozing head of his cock along her slit lengthwise, slowly opening her up. Oh, God, she is so warm, he thought. So wet. So damned perfect.

  He shuddered as he felt her vagina open up for him as he pushed, slowly but with power, reveling in the feeling of every inch sliding into Jenny as her inner walls pressed tightly against his girth. He could feel her breathe below him, her chest pushing against his as he pressed his body slowly against her and drove his throbbing shaft all the way up inside her, flexing his cock as he felt Jenny take the final inch of his hardness deep into her warm valleys.

  But then, “Kabeer,” she whispered from below him, her hand firm against his chest now, holding him back. “We should—”

  “No,” he growled as he began to move inside her, flexing his cock again as he felt the walls of her vagina so damn tight against his girth. “You are so wet, Jenny. By God, I can smell you. I can feel your wetness dripping onto my balls. I can damn near TASTE you. Do not DARE tell me to stop right now!”

  “Oh, God, no, I want this,” she whispered. “But not without—”

  “I will pull out before I finish,” he muttered now, panting as he began to thrust, groaning as he felt her heat, her wetness, her need. “Do not worry, little Jenny. It will be fine. Come. Come now. Here we go. There we go. Oh, God, Jenny. You are so soft, so wet, so hot inside, so damned tight inside.”

  So tight, he thought as he felt his mouth hang open with ecstasy as he began to drive deep into her dark depths under the bright sunshine. So tight, and so goddamn right.

  Ya Allah, he thought as he closed his eyes and took her deep, took her bare, took her hard. So goddamn right.

  12

  Jenny almost choked in ecstasy as she felt Kabeer’s tremendous girth stretch her wide, SO wide, and her mouth opened involuntarily in a silent scream as she felt his hardness fill her up so rapidly that her eyes rolled up in her head every time he flexed his shaft. He moved slowly but firmly, pushed with gentleness but power, his length driving deep even as his thick shaft filled her so completely she could feel him against every inch of her inner walls. It was like he was made for her, she thought in a crazy moment as she felt him push deeper, deeper, so GODDAMN deep.

  I trust him, she told herself as she felt the ecstasy radiate outwards from her core. I trust him even though I have no reason to trust him, even though I have every reason NOT to trust him.

  But that inner voice was drowned out in a moment, that same moment when she felt him flex again inside her, the upward curve of his cock making her groan and hunch up and into him as he drew back and then pushed into her again, thrusting slowly, slowly, slowly . . . speeding up but still slow, moving faster now, rotating his powerful hips as he pushed back in, his hand sliding behind the curve of her back, pulling her body up as her head tilted back, and he DROVE inside
again, drawing back long and coming in full again, taking her nipple in his mouth now, him sucking so hard it damn near hurt, but it felt so good, so deep, so raw, so RIGHT.

  “Awha, alllaha, wahadha hu mithl alhulm,” he muttered as his head drew back from her arched chest, a long trail of clean saliva connecting his lower lip to her shining nipple. “Waqalat 'annaha alihat fi alhulim, hu 'annaha la?”

  The Arabic sounded strange, smooth, exotic and erotic, and Jenny smiled and closed her eyes as she focused on his deep voice, the strange language adding to her arousal as the Sheikh moved faster inside, pushed himself so deep she called out in surprise, her own voice sounding strange and foreign now, and she was tightening her legs around him, bucking her hips into him as he RAMMED his body down on her now, and she was gasping as his weight pressed down on her, moaning as his length pushed into her, and they were in rhythm now, their naked bodies sweating in the blazing sun, the heat inside her matching the heat outside, and Kabeer pumped his powerful hips as Jenny bucked and flailed, and then suddenly, without warning, with a roaring cry of “Ya, ALLAH!” Kabeer EXPLODED inside her, SHOUTING as he came, ROARING as he poured his heat into her depths, and before the panic had any chance to rise up, before she had time to even understand what had happened, out of nowhere her own orgasm SCREAMED in like a runaway train in the night, and suddenly they were coming together, coming HARD, both of them clutching at each other, sounds like wild animals emerging from their fierce embrace, and the sun was blasting down on them as they climaxed in unison, their cries merging with the screams of the gulls, the howl of the wind, the roar of the waves.

  They came together, and no one knows how long they shuddered and groaned, shivered and moaned against one another, and their shared climax could have lasted an hour, a day, their entire goddamn lives. Time slowed down and sped up as Jenny’s orgasms rolled in like that night-train derailing at breakneck speed, the waves of ecstasy rocking her body, sending convulsions through her as she felt the Sheikh come deep inside her, his semen pouring into her depths as she felt his heavy balls slap against her skin with every powerful thrust.

  It felt like eternity and Jenny wanted it to last eternity, but the peak was too high to sustain, and soon she shuddered and shook her way down through a series of secondary orgasms as she felt Kabeer flex again inside her one last time, his final discharge making her whimper as she felt him flood her secret canals, filling every corner of her depths like it was a dream.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, her chest heaving as she felt hot and wet all over, sweat mixing with everything else. “Oh, GOD, Kabeer!”

  “Oh, no, no, NO!” Kabeer shouted. He pulled out with a groan and rolled off her and onto the red towels on which they lay. He panted as he lay on his back, and squinted up at the bright blue sky. But then almost immediately he turned and pulled her close again, wrapping her up with his warm, hard body, his face close to hers, chest heaving, lips moving in wet silence against her warm, wet cheek. “Do not think,” he whispered. “Do not talk. No thinking. No talking. Just stop everything. Come here. Come to me. Be close.”

  Jenny stayed silent as she listened to the waves and the wind. She was still in that dream, that dream where she could hear herself whimper and sob like it was another person making those sounds, some other girl who had slipped into her body. She closed her eyes and did what he said: tried not to think.

  Yes, she closed her eyes and let the world spin on outside, like she and Kabeer were not part of the real world right now. The thought comforted her, and in a moment of madness she decided that this was indeed a dream, and logic and common sense meant nothing in this fantasy world.

  She kept her eyes shut tight for a long time, breathing deeply, taking in Kabeer’s masculine smell, the dusky smell of his cologne mixing with the aroma of their combined sweat, their combined sex. And when she finally fluttered her eyelids and tried to blink away the tears that she didn’t even know had come, she was greeted with the strangest of gazes from the greenest of eyes.

  What is that I see in his eyes, she wondered as she felt the sun warm her shoulders and face. Is it panic? Fear? Surprise? Is it an apology? Or is it something else?

  Then it came to her. It wasn’t so much what she saw in his eyes. It was what she DIDN’T see.

  And she didn’t see panic. She didn’t see fear. She didn’t see surprise. She sure as hell didn’t see an apology, or any indication that it had been a mistake.

  Was it a mistake, she wondered now as her own panic began to tear down those pathways vacated by ecstasy. Was it a mistake, she wondered again, unable to speak and instead just searching those exotic green eyes for answers.

  Yes, WAS it a mistake, great Sheikh?!

  13

  “Yes, Great Sheikh. I understand. I shall do my best, Inshallah. Rest now. Rest, dear Father.”

  Yasmeena quietly pulled the heavy wooden door closed behind her as she stepped out of her father’s rooms below decks. She felt an unusual swell of emotion as she took that last look at her old father gingerly lie down on the green-and-gold divan. The old Sheikh was to head back to Bukhaara in three days, but he had just informed her he would be leaving tonight. Yasmeena did not ask why. She knew why.

  He needed to go home. He needed to go home, because he could not—he WOULD not—die in any other place.

  She hadn’t said goodbye. Hadn’t said farewell. She did not cry. She would not cry. It was not her way, and it was not her family’s way. Death was a part of life, and Yasmeena knew this as well as anyone—indeed, she had already lost a brother, a mother, a step-mother, and it was clear that life does not stop and give you time to grieve.

  So she listened to her father’s last set of instructions, and she nodded like a faithful daughter, a loyal princess, a woman who knew that her responsibilities were great—responsibilities to a family, a nation, a people, a way of life. Her father was trusting her to bring about something that she was not sure she could accomplish, but that was not an excuse not to try. And try she would.

  Now Yasmeena walked to her cabin and sat at the teakwood table. She closed her eyes and meditated on what her father, the old Sheikh of Bukhaara, had asked her to do. In a way she did not have to do anything, she realized as she focused on her own breathing. Things would take their course. Kabeer would have no real choice to make. Once her father was gone, how could Kabeer choose to live in America when he was to be crowned Sheikh and ruler of his ancestral homeland, leader of his people? No, he would return to the Middle-East, to Bukhaara, to his homeland, his people, his duty. He could not choose to stay in America. No, of course not! There is nothing here he cannot have in Bukhaara. He will make the right choice.

  Yes, but what if he does not, Yasmeena thought as a nagging doubt emerged along with an image of that full-figured woman that Kabeer had chosen to bring to a private family meeting—something Kabeer NEVER did. No, that would never . . . it would never . . . it would never . . . it will not.

  Ya, Allah, it will NOT!

  14

  Kabeer Bukhaara tapped his fingers on the smooth wooden desk. He was waiting for Yasmeena, and though ordinarily he would have been annoyed at being kept waiting, right now he didn’t care. His mind was elsewhere. By God, all of him was elsewhere—mind, body, and spirit.

  Jenny hadn’t taken his calls for a week, and she hadn’t replied to his messages. Kabeer was surprised, even angry. He could not remember the last time a woman hadn’t responded to him. What was with this woman? What the HELL was she up to?

  Was she angry about how the sex ended? Worried that she might be pregnant? Perhaps. Even I should be worried, should I not? he thought as he glanced at an old photograph on Yasmeena’s office wall, almost hidden from clear sight unless you were sitting behind her desk. The picture was of the Bukhaara royal family—not one of the hundreds of posed photographs taken by professionals, but an informal picture taken with a camera set on a timer. Kabeer remembered that day—All three children, both queens, the Sheikh, and no one else!
Just the family on a Sunday afternoon!

  Kabeer blinked and turned away from the photograph and back to his thoughts. Yes, why was he not worried about Jenny being pregnant? God, it would be a disaster in a hundred ways, would it not? But if he could replay that moment, would he do anything different? Ya, Allah, he knew he would not! No, he would relive that moment a thousand times if he could, relive it exactly the same way, Jenny and him so close together, like they were one person, one body, one soul, one life, one universe even, all on their own. The sex was transcendent, the moment resplendent. In a way time had stopped for him at that very moment of their shared climax, and time was still frozen, like he had stepped into eternity, stepped into eternity with this American woman with those big brown eyes and those full pink lips and curves that made the Earth spin faster for Kabeer.

  Did she feel this way? Like it was something more than just sex? Perhaps this woman does not have the sexual history I do, he wondered now as he realized that it had only been one goddamn day with her and they still knew nothing about each other. Yes, perhaps she does not realize how unusual, how rare, how unique it is to feel a connection like this between two bodies, an unspoken connection that almost HAS to be otherworldly, for no explanation can be found for it in this world!

  But Jenny did not say anything about it on the boat the rest of that trip. In fact, she did not say much of anything the rest of that trip, Kabeer thought. I offered to take her home, but she politely said she would take a taxi. I would have laughed and grabbed her and tied her to my damn motorcycle if we were alone, but with Yasmeena and Father and a thousand attendants, I had to be at least somewhat civilized. But ya Allah, I cannot stay civilized around this woman much longer. Where is she?!