Bartered to the Sheikh: Honour, duty, marriage ... and passionate desert nights

by Clare Connelly

  Who was she kidding? Sleeping with him and getting to walk away afterwards was a very naughty, very exciting fantasy… and it would have the enormous silver lining of getting her out of a bind. Hadn’t she come to Fasiya wanting to add a little spice and heat to her life? Was there anything spicier or hotter than this gorgeous Sheikh? As for relegating her failed relationship with Andrew to the recesses of her mind, she suspected a single kiss from Radiz would obliterate any memories she had of her ex-fiance.

  She bit down on her lip. “So one night and then I’m free to go?”

  “No.” He crossed to her and put his hands possessively on her waist. Her core seemed to fill with moist anticipation. “I’m afraid I was raised to have rather high standards of those who serve me.”

  “Serve you?” She spat, a spark of fury at war with the flood of desire. “I will not serve you.”

  “Of course you will. As I will serve you.” He lifted a hand and clipped his fingers around her zip. “It is the way of lovers.”

  “Lovers.” She shook her head from side to side. What she wanted to say died on her tongue as he began to slide the zip of her dress down. Very, very deliberately; so slowly that she ached to reach around and grab a hold of it herself.

  “You will be mine until I release you,” he promised. “Mine to have day or night, to please and be pleased by. This relationship will be fulfilling for you, and for me. And at the end of it, you will leave.”

  Her heart was hammering against her chest, racing with fear and desire and lust and courage. “It is tempting,” she prevaricated intentionally, earning a sceptical raise of a brow.

  “What else?”

  “The jewels,” she said, almost unable to believe her own daring. Only what she owed to Steph made her courageous enough to bring up the very crux of her crime .

  “Impossible.” He barked a short laugh, and ran a hand over his stubbled chin. “They are family heirlooms and not available.” He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to the base of her neck. She jumped in surprise, as his tongue ran along the sensitive skin. “However, as compensation for your wrongful arrest, I am certain I would be able to arrange something in their place. A dollar amount, perhaps, to equal the worth of the jewels.”

  That was all she needed. Her body was limp with so many feelings.

  “You know,” he said slowly, finally released the zip and letting the dress pool at her feet. “I almost felt sorry for you. I was just about to leave you alone for the night, after your impassioned speech about your exhaustion.”

  “Were you?” She whispered, aware that she was near-naked and barely able to care.

  “Mmm,” he agreed, reaching around and unclasping her bra with one hand. Her breasts spilled out and he caught them in his palms, as though they were his to hold. “But then you reminded me of the jewels, and I decided your sentence should commence immediately.”

  Miranda didn’t think, for a moment, of disagreeing. Every single fibre of her being was desperate to be possessed by this man. Though she considered herself a staunch feminist, the ability to think rationally seemed to have leaped out of the window the moment he had floated his outrageous proposition.

  “And if I object?” She heard herself ask quietly. “Might you need to restrain me?”

  Radiz wondered if he’d died and gone to heaven. For this woman who had been delivered to him was awakening sensations in him that he hadn’t even known existed.

  “I think restraint will be essential,” he nodded, looking around the room they were in. It was not a bedroom, but it had a sofa, an armchair, and a table. It would suffice. He moved to the chair and sat down, his robes draped to the floor. She watched, uncertain suddenly, as the distance yawned between them.

  “Take off your underwear,” he commanded, propping his chin with his hand.

  Miranda looked down at the black knickers she wore. She wished, desperately, that she was wearing something sexier. “Um… Okay.” She slid her fingers into the waistband and removed them from her body. She stood before him, completely naked.

  “Good.” He crooked one finger towards her, his starlight eyes heavy on her face. “Come here.”

  She moved towards him with a natural grace that was distorted only by her nervousness. When she was in front of the chair, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her downwards, so that she straddled him. Immediately, she felt his erection between her legs, but his regal outfit was a barrier between them. “I am going to touch you,” he said. He slowly ran his fingers over her body. Her flat stomach, the gentle swell of her hips, the firmness of her buttocks. He ran his fingers between the cheeks, teasing her, making her hold her breath in surprise and anticipation. He traced his hands higher, to her breasts, and higher still, to her shoulders, and neck..

  “I want you to undress me,” he said quietly. “This is something that is considered an honor in my country.”

  “Ah,” she said with an slow grin. “Then I will attempt to behave honourably.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to point out the impossibility of that, given the situation. But he didn’t want to hurt her. Not with words that weren’t necessary.

  “How do I…?” She asked, looking at the robes with confusion. He stood, carrying her with him and easing her to the ground.

  “Here.” He lifted one piece of fabric. She followed suit, and realised that they sort of wrapped around him. With a few twists and turns, she worked it out, and managed to gather all of the fabric into a bundle. “What do I do with this?”

  “Put it on the table. I have ideas for that later.” He promised. “Now. Finish.”

  She looked at him. Near naked, he was just as beautiful as she had envisaged. Impossibly muscled, as though he spent all day working out, which she knew was not the case. She recalled her first impression of him as a Minotaur, and was reminded even more strongly of that now. Only his briefs remained. She grabbed for the waistband and began to slide them down but he shook his head. “Slowly,” he murmured, “and on your knees. I want your eyes and your mouth close to me.”

  Her stomach rolled at the sensual image he’d created, and she did as he said. Slowly, she eased his pants lower, until his full manhood was revealed to her. Erect, and enormous, it made her gasp. “Oh…” she said, her nerves leaping wildly.

  “Soon you will take me in your mouth. But not today. Today, I want to enjoy you more fully.”

  Only… the moment he said it, it became a challenge to her. She glared at him. “You are not completely in charge, you know,” she said crossly. And before he could guess her intentions, she extended her tongue and ran it along his length, thrilled when he shuddered against her. She surrounded his tip with her mouth, and immediately, felt her insides clench with desire.

  His laugh was throaty. “Careful, Miranda. You do not want to encourage me when I am in this mood.”

  “What do you mean?” She asked, pulling away from him for an instant.

  “I mean that I am getting carried away with fantasies that I would like to carry out with you. And while I am willing to indulge each and every one of them, I am still myself enough to know that you are a person, and a person who deserves respect. So do not encourage me to turn you into my very own sex slave, as I am desperate to do.”

  She rather thought she would enjoy being his sex slave, but she still had to appreciate his honesty. “Show me your fantasies,” she said huskily, “and I will tell you if it’s too much.”

  His eyes flared wide. “You do not mean it.”

  “Do you know what? I really do.” And she did. She told herself it was because she knew Steph, and through Steph, she knew a lot about Radiz. She knew that he was authoritarian and domineering, but also that he was kind and thoughtful, fair and principled. And she felt safe.

  “Very well.” He nodded, attempting to hide his pleasure. He moved back to the chair, pausing only to grab a packet of condoms from a side table. “Come to me.”

  She did as he said, her cheeks flushed. He unfurled
the protection over his arousal, his eyes never leaving hers. Then, he grabbed her hips and began to lower her to his lap. “Wait,” she said, when his arousal connected with her body. “I have to tell you something.” She put her hands on his chest. “I’m…” Oh, God. The mortification was intense. “I was engaged. My ex was … puritanical. We never. … I mean… we only broke up a few months ago… and we were high school sweethearts. And I didn’t…”

  “Are you saying you have never had sex?” He demanded fiercely, holding her hips to keep her where she was.

  She nodded. “I’m not precious about it, for goodness sake. It’s just the way it worked out. He wanted us to wait. Um, please don’t think that’s weird.”

  “Weird?” He said with a shake of his head. “I think it’s beautiful. But I cannot take this from you. Especially not under these circumstances.”

  She pushed at his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. I want to do this. I just thought you should know. It seemed like good manners to at least tell you.”

  He laughed but there was still a hesitation in his voice. Miranda didn’t much care. She’d come this far. She dug her knees further forward, against the soft golden thread of the chair. “This is happening,” she said firmly, and though his hands were on her hips, he no longer seemed to be fighting her.

  As she took his length inside, her whole body seemed to reject him, at first. He was enormous, and she was entirely unstretched. But then, as he moved deeper, she felt pleasure and surprise and delight build and grow.

  “Okay?” He asked from between gritted teeth.

  She nodded, her whole body emanating sexual satiation as he moved slowly inside her. “You are in charge,” he said in wonder. “You move as it feels good.”

  He watched as she did just that, rocking herself back and forward, as her body built toward a crescendo of pleasure. As she began to shudder with release, he held her body, and pushed himself forward to maintain their contact. She collapsed forward on the seat, her body convulsing with the force of the sensations he’d invoked.

  “What did you think?” He whispered against her ear.

  “I like it.” She said honestly. No time for coy lies. She had liked it. Very much. “I want more.”

  He grinned. “I’m pleased. Because I did not join you, that time.”

  “You didn’t?” Self-consciousness assailed her. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “You were angelic in your perfection, believe me. It is an advantage to having a lover so many years older than you, little one. I have the ability to control my body better than your contemporaries.”

  She shot her eyes heavenwards. “For goodness sake. You’re thirty two. Not sixty two.”

  And though his mind was mostly devoured by the spectre of what they were to enjoy, he filed that small bit of information away – the certainty she’d had of his age. It gave away so much. For a start, she knew more about him than she’d let on. Why?

  “And this thirty two year old is going to send you to the moon and back now,” he promised. This time, when he stood, he kept her wrapped around his waist.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Hadn’t she just been thinking that?

  “Yes.” She nodded, simply.

  “Good.” He eased her to the ground. The tiles were cold beneath her feet. Or perhaps they only felt that way because her body was super heated. Put your hands out in front of your body.”

  Wordlessly, she did as he said. He layered the fabric over her wrists and looped it beneath them, then through them. He pulled on it tight, until the fabric dug into her skin. “What are you doing?” She asked, her eyes saucer-wide as he looped the other end of the fabric around the leg of the table. It was marble. Immovable. Heavy.

  “Oh, I really did like the idea of having you as my sex slave,” he promised darkly, pulling at the fabric so that she had no choice but to go with it. “Not to punish you, but to please you until it is almost painful.”

  He pushed the fabric low to the ground, so that Miranda was bent in half at the waist, her rear in the air.

  “Perfect,” he said on an exhalation of breath. He came to stand behind her and with his hands, splayed her legs. He nudged his erection towards her entrance. And though he’d only been inside her moments earlier, the pleasure and relief she felt when he returned was immense. As though he’d been gone for months, not minutes. It was an entirely different sensation; he was so far inside of her, his invasion complete. Waves of pleasure ran over her as his hands massaged her buttocks, feeling her and prodding her and demanding more and more, as he moved confidently within her.

  He heard her cry out with pleasure and he slammed into her harder, and harder, holding on to his own orgasm with sheer strength of will power. He dug his fingers into her hips to stop himself from finding the release his body craved, but he drove her inexorably towards the cliff of pleasure, rejoicing when she came in a wave of intense release.

  But he wasn’t finished with her.

  “Lie on your back,” he commanded, waiting impatiently while she lowered herself to the floor. It was awkward but he didn’t help. Seeing her naked body, glistening with perspiration from the way she’d just been driven wild was intensely pleasurable. Lying on the floor, her arms suspended above her head, was almost too much to handle. The fantasies, oh, the fantasies.

  He pushed inside of her again, and this time, with his body on top of hers, he felt himself begin to let go. He wanted to feel it, but he needed to push her further. And he wanted her to want it more, too. A type of fevered insanity pitched his core. His sexual experience was vast, but nothing had been like this. The moment was electrifying for its intensity. He took one of her nipples in his mouth, enjoying the way she bucked against him with her entire body.

  He moved further, and further, deeper, harder, faster, and when she cried out, he increased his rhythm, no longer caring about anything but what they were building towards. She was pulling at her hands, begging for him to undo the restraints so she could touch him, but he would not do it.

  He wanted to teach her that she was his. He pulled out, before either of them could find release. She was panting on the floor, her face flushed, her body pale. Her mouth was begging for him, demanding; his name was an incantation on her lips. He watched, momentarily frozen by her fervent desire, before he took her again. She cried out as her body rejoiced once more at his possession, and this time, he cried out with her, spilling himself into her with sheer relief.

  As her breathing slowed to normal, reality began to intrude.

  So why didn’t she feel worse? What they’d just done was nothing more than animalistic sex. There was no emotion to it. No feeling. No promises. Nothing. Worse – she was his prisoner and she’d basically bartered her virginity for freedom. And she felt no shame, only lust and greed. A very greedy need for more, more, more.

  “That is just the beginning,” he promised, pushing just far enough away to be able to cup her breasts with his hands. “Believe me, I want more of you.” He said, echoing her own thoughts. And, as if she needed further proof, she could already feel him hardening inside her again. “But I was selfish, just now. You need to eat, bathe and sleep. Tomorrow night, we will begin our arrangement properly. And believe me, Miranda, what we just did was nothing compared to what I have in store for you, so eat well, and sleep well, for you will need your strength tomorrow night.”

  But how could she sleep? With the images he’d just implanted in her mind, she wasn’t sure she’d ever sleep again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I thought Fasiya was a conservative country?” She murmured disapprovingly, lifting yet another of the almost transparent dresses from the expensive box.

  “It is,” he agreed with a nod. “But you will not be seen by anyone but me.”

  She shot him a look that was heavy with bemusement. “That’s not possible. The palace is teeming with staff.”

  “I will have something brought for you to wear, on the occasions when
we leave your rooms. But you are a prisoner, Miranda, and unless I give you consent, you are to remain here.”

  She scowled. “Dressed in these?” She nodded towards the box of negligées.

  “Or naked,” he said with a slow-spreading smile. “It is your decision.”

  “Gee, thanks.” And though her body hadn’t stopped aching from sexual pleasure, she felt something akin to annoyance now.

  He saw the darkness in her features, and heard the pain in her voice. “This bothers you.”

  She shook her head, and her fair hair flew like leaves about her face. “No,” she lied.

  “Miranda…”

  She bit down on her lip, her eyes meeting his. “Okay, fine. Yes.” She slipped out of her black dress again, and eased the pale green negligee over her head. She turned to face him, and her argument almost disappeared in the face of the look he gave her. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable sleeping with a man who seems to get such pleasure from keeping me locked up.”

  He stood and moved to her slowly. He lifted a finger and ran it slowly down the supple skin of her arm. “You are locked up, whether we sleep together or not.”

  She shivered as the now familiar pleasure sent pins and needles shooting down her arm. “I think I should speak to a lawyer.”

  Radiz linked his arms behind her back. “A lawyer will tell you just what I am. That the punishment for your crimes is severe. That your best chance of gaining freedom is to meet the terms I have given you.”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Can I at least make a phone call?” She asked with an attempt at a smile.

  “It depends. Who to?”

  “A, um, friend. She’ll be worried that I’m not back.”

  He sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Here.”

  It was a gold phone. Not gold in colour. Actual gold. “Don’t you think this is a little extravagant?” She muttered, looking at it as though it were an object of distaste.