A DESERT KING’S OBSESSION
CHRISTINE GRAY
JESSICA WATKINS PRESENTS
Copyright © 2019 by Christine Gray
Published by Jessica Watkins Presents
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Without limiting the right under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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CONTENTS
1. June 4, 2019- PRESENT DAY
Chione
Shahid
Chione
2. Shahid
Chione
Shahid
Chione
Shahid
3. Chione
Shahid
Tarif
4. Shahid
Chioma
Shahid
5. Chione
Shahid
6. Chione
Shahid
7. Chione
Shahid
Chione
8. Chione
Shahid
Chione
Shahid
9. Shahid
Chione
Shahid
Chione
10. Shahid
Chione
Shahid
TO BE CONTINUED
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1
JUNE 4, 2019- PRESENT DAY
Four weeks, thirty-one days is all I have to bask in a life that can never be mine. Never. What the fuck does that mean? It’s fuckin’ bullshit. That's all it calculates to a man like me. To be told that I can't have what I want is like saying the sand of the desert isn't hot. People shit themselves when I walk in the room. Hearts stop beating with a word from my mouth. Yes, I'm just that ruthless, just that fuckin’ powerful. So, tell me why the fuck I'm walking with sweaty palms over the thought of finally seeing her again? She's such a tiny thing compared to my height. She has nothing while I hold a portion of the world under my calloused thumb. She's still probably catching the fuckin’ city bus while I'm strolling towards my waiting private jet. Let me say for the record that she didn't have to catch that goddamn bus, but there’s that word “never” fuckin’ up the way I want things to be again.
"I'm never going to be yours," is what she claimed the last time I spoke to her. "There can Never be a you and me. You know that, right?"
I actually think she believes the shit she's spitting. However, as I said before, I don't take kindly to being told no, not when it comes to the woman I love, the woman I've waited to make my own…the woman I know wants my ass too. Yes, I understand her reserves, but she doesn't understand my fuckin’ resolve. The issue here is I'm so close to the point that when I close my eyes, I can see our future together. Me playing the friend card, not pushing too much, but making my feelings crystal clear was paying off. I swear to God it wasn't wishful thinking, either. In her tone, her laughter, the things she shared with me, I could feel the change in the two years I've been plowing her heart as I tended the seeds I planted there. Now, flip the script and nothing. Just days, a few weeks before I'm able to see her again, she says that bullshit before she goes ghost.
Fuck that, baby! Settling in the leather seat, I motion for the pilot to get us up in the air.
"Beating the young woman isn't going to work in your favor."
I cut my light brown eyes at my smart-mouthed father.
I won't lie. The thought of wringing Chione's neck once I see her again is tempting as hell. Not to choke the life out of her shapely body, but to break upon an orgasm that's been building between the two of us. The loose robe I'm wearing does the trick of hiding my hard on. I don't know how much more my dick can take of the waiting to finally explore Chione's wet, pink pussy. Her name means daughter of the Nile. I wonder if she'll gush like it too.
"No, Father. I've learned a few things from you over the years," I mumble as I wave the female flight attendant away.
"I only tried that shit with your mother once," he huffs in defense.
"Oh, I know. She said you picked the wrong one that day." I smirk.
I note the sparkle in his eyes before he glances away. This trip isn't like all the others. The amount of excitement vibrating between us is almost tangible. Everything seems to cause us to turn our minds to the women we have been longing to see again. For me, it's Chione. For Father, it's Chioma, my mother. Even more so with the word reaching us that she's involved in a serious relationship with a piece of shit that I know isn't good enough to smell her dump. I don't care that he's a fuckin doctor or whatever. Either my father better smooth talk his way back in there or I'll have to do what my brother, Chadli, has been planning to do.
"No, you shall ride with the others," I instruct the young girl who tries to sit in the seat next to me.
Her pout that does more to annoy me than excite me, twists her face. Some would say, pretty, but not I. For me, beauty is from within. It isn't a thing that can be worn on a sleeve or found in a high-priced treatment. It flows from the soul into the mind and translates in speech patterns and actions. Sadly, this young thang, Nargis, and my two mistresses already sitting in the back compartment of the plane were never taught that value.
I cut my gaze at Nargis as she strolls away. The little bitch is going to be a thorn in side. She’s the favoraite of all the noblemen casting their bets on my choice. The girl has high expectations of becoming my wife. I can’t blame her either. I know I help create her ego that’s as big as the desert Sphinx. For months, I ingested her like a drug. I couldn’t get enough of the feel of her heavy, long, black perfumed hair tangling around my body. Soft olive skin, full breasts, a deep, tight cunt that I could never seem to touch the bottom of, combined with her eagarness and stamina to please me had me believing, too that she was the one. Then comes along Chione to fuck up my entire world. It’s amazing how a person can come into your life and in no time at all reveal how much of a lie you were actually living.
Do I fuck the women given to me? As of right now, yes. Do I love them? No. Although I don't see them as my property, my society does. Hell, in some case, even the women see themselves as such. Of course, it helps that I'm the one holding the deeds to their asses. Those that want more, I give them more in the way of education. I view them as lovers, nothing more. However, I'll ship them away in a heartbeat if it meant having Chione.
The joys, and in my case, the curse of the title. With everyone watching, perception is key, and for this deception to go off without a hitch, things have to appear to be this way. It's been a trick my brother, father, mother, a few trusted people, and I have been doing for the last three years. Those 4 weeks, 31 days I spoke of, well…this is it. For that time period, I get what I want—the trappings of normalcy. While my brother, Chadli, gets to be fucked, sucked, wined, dined, and leave all his troubles behind.
I catch my reflection in the window when I turn to watch the Dubai landscape racing by on takeoff. I have to remind myself that the shaven reflection I see is actually me and not my twin's. Gone is my t
hick, jet-black beard for a close cut that really showcases my jaw line. I chuckle knowing my bro is cursing all the months he's had to grow and baby his own to make slipping into my role as billionaire oil Sheikh Shahid Rajput go as faultless as possible. As we've done the three years before, I move my entire household of 400 to take in the summer in Dubai because that's the sandbox he enjoys playing in. He can have the shit. I pack up to disappear to the States by taking on his identity. In doing so, I'm able to see my mother and spend time with Chione.
The annoying sound of my phone ringing breaks into my thoughts. I don't glance down at my cell. "You're on your way to the house?"
Chadli laughs. "Funny how you call something over 20,000 square feet with two pools and an orchard a house. But, yeah, I'm draped in this sheet and on my way."
I roll my eyes. "Listen, fool, don't fuck up this time," I warn.
"I didn't fuck up last time," he snaps. "You're talking to a lawyer. I know when a bitch is trying to be set for life. I didn't have relations with that woman," he mocks.
"That isn't what the cum in her hair said," I tease.
"Hell, fuckin’ her mouth doesn't equal rape. Case dismissed." He laughs. "I hope you work that accent out by the time you touch down in Miami," he cautions.
Shifting in my seat, "I got it under control. Who says I'm going there anyway?"
"Nice. Bringing out the street slang but playing dumb doesn't win you points. You think me the fool? I know where you're going. In fact, I left you a gift. Ask the flight attendant," he orders.
Muffling the cell with my chest, I do as he commanded. The pancake-ass woman who's trying way too hard to please, me hands over a sealed envelope.
"It will make for good reading. I looked into that girl you've been sneaking off to see. She’s really pretty, smart, and completely too good for you, but I understand why you feel for her."
I half listen as he rambles on in the background. Suddenly, the papers groan in protest at the way I manhandle them.
"Your intel is flawed," I grumble.
"Nope. Flawed is too high-brow of a word. I would have said your intel is shit, fucked-up, or even wrong, but never fuckin’ flawed."
"Okay, how about, fuck you, your intel ’cause—”
"Now, you know I'm not wrong, big brother. I'm the best at what I do in the light and in the dark. What I was able to gather is correct. What I wanna know is how the fuck you could let that shit go? I had to grease a few palms and call a few people, so it wasn't easy work by any means. The girl didn't want you to know, that's for sure, but you had to know she was about that life in some kinda way."
I narrow my gaze at the grainy photo. "Nah, I didn't know, but the games stop now," is all I say.
Tossing the cell to the seat beside me, I stack the pages into a neat pile. After taking a gulp of my gin and tonic, I begin to survey the papers before me again. With a level head, I compress the rage within me. So, this is the reason Chione has gone ghost on me, huh? Damn good reason since I warned her if she ever crossed that line again, I was going to fuck her up. It's funny that walking in Chadli's shoes tends to make people think I'm all smoke, but Chione is gonna feel the fire. My desire to blend in causes me to hide my true nature. On U.S. soil, I have to play the “the man's” rules to keep an international war from kicking off. This time, I don't know, though.
"I'm here to listen," my father offers.
I'm not shocked that he's worried. I'm doing nothing to hide my anger. How many fuckin’ times did I tell this damn girl to give it up, just walk the fuck away? Shit, I had even offered to help, but pride made her slap me down. Yeah, I get it. Stand on your own two feet. Don't put yourself in a position to have to repay a person, let alone a man. Doing shit like that could have you taking it up the ass hard and dry.
"How the hell did she get back, into…."
Why am I asking such a dumb question? I don't have to wonder. I really don't fuckin’ care. After scooping up my cell, I place a call. I'm not holding my breath. I know Chione isn't going to answer. She's even removed her sweet voice from her voicemail to deprive me of that. She's making moves to ghost me completely. I tap my leg with my finger as I listen to the robotic message.
"Chione," I growl into the phone. "I know what you've been up to. I finally know why you've been dodging me. When I touch down, I'm coming for you."
Stabbing the disconnect button, I'm a bit at ease making my threat known. Before I can toss the cell, it vibrates in my hand.
If you know so much, then you know that I mean what I said. LET IT GO!!
Chione has no fuckin idea. A smirk hangs on the corner of my lips. The hunter in me loves it when she runs. The silly girl should have learned that by now.
CHIONE
MAY 29, 2018, ONE YEAR PRIOR…
Miami, Florida
"Fuck!" I yell as I hop across the living room.
The amount of time I've given myself to change shit around isn't enough. Stilling my frantic actions, I close my eyes and take a breath. I then snap them open like a robot and survey the area. The rental furniture looks good in the living room. The new leather sectional has relieved the place of the smoke. Taking a whiff, I test my theory. Shit, I don't know if the smoke I smell is mental or if it's still lingering. I've aired out the place for the last three days. To make sure, I even had the carpet cleaned. I've learned that when Chadli says he's coming in five days, it really means in three.
I shouldn't give two shits about him coming, but that's not the truth. I care and for a fuckin’ good reason. It's because of this man that I have hope and a future. Of all the people to luck up and be living a Cinderella story, I would have laughed if I’d been told I would be the one. A year ago, I was working at a club, dealing with gold-toothed fuckers that thought a stack of dollar bills was enough to get a ride on the creamy express. I won't lie when shit got hard, I gritted my teeth, picked the biggest baller, and backed that shit up to pay the rent. I hated myself afterward, though. It would’ve been cool if the scrubs would have kept their mouths closed, but seeing how I really didn't fuck around too heavy, when I did, it was on Dateline News.
Even still, I would have to ride the wave of shame until the dust settled, which seemed to take forever. You see, I'm the “good girl.” Although, God knows I do my dirt, which I just admitted to, but overall, I didn't mix too much with the bitches and hoes from work. I know what they mumble and say about me, so why the fuck do I try to be a part of a group that's just setting my ass up? Oh, yeah, we smile, do that nice-nasty conversation, but we know the truth. They don't feel me too tough, and I don't give a fuck. Actually, I prefer it that way. I don't need help doing bad. I can do that all by myself and all that jazz. I work the bar and I collect my tips, but I don't drop to my knees to suck every dick that flashes a twenty my way. I'm pussy selective. I hold myself to a high standard. Shit, a female has dreams. Might be farfetched that I'll ever achieve them, especially with the crosses I have to bear, but I wanna be ready to run in when the door is open. You feel me?
I know they laugh at me when I crack a book open that ain't about a trap queen riding dirty with her dope boy, Mandingo-sized boyfriend in some street lit. They talk shit while I study from used college books I bought from the library sales that were years old and out of date. All I know came from self-education, and that's a lot. I read Newsweek and Time Magazine. I watch the Bloomberg Channel in hopes of one day buying stock in some Fortune 500 company. Yeah, I'm the “tar-baby,” wide-nosed, pimpled, greasy-faced wanna-be who thought so much of herself, which is what I was labeled as by the girls and even the men who tried to fuck me with no success. I guess I still am, but that tone changed over a year ago when he strolled in.
Know how a person smells like money? Nah, I don't mean the bullshit that rappers and other celebrities do, stuntin' around and shit. I'm mean Jay-Z level stuff. You see the loose-fitting, wide-legged, grandpa-looking suits he wears? Even still, Jay-Z oozes class and money that the Mayweathers of the world wished they had. J
ay is a featherless peacock that still commands all eyes on him in the midst of others decked out in the brightest of plumage. That's how this dude came strolling in.
Never in my life have I seen an Arabic man look this good. His skin didn't have a red hue to it. It was more golden-brown like a well-done piece of Popeye's chicken. He had a tapered beard, jet-black hair that had a bit of a wave to it on the top, long portion. It wasn’t short like all the stereotypes. He was tall, broad, fit, with full lips, and fine as hell. I don't even think my description is doing him justice. All eyes fell on him, and not ‘cause he smelled of deep pockets as I've already mentioned. Now, I see why Janet Jackson did it, and Rhianna is currently running around with a man from the East. If they all looked like him, whew chile.
A Desert King's Obsession Page 1
