“Ah, you have no idea what I was like back then, Ms. Norwood.”
“Why do you keep calling me Ms. Norwood?” she asked.
Zameer shrugged. “So I do not forget that this is a business arrangement.”
Nat raised an eyebrow and frowned. She really couldn’t tell if this guy was serious or not. “Really? So this cork up my butt is a business arrangement?”
The Sheikh nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely. An arrangement you yourself made.”
Nat opened her mouth wide. “Um, I believe it was you who pushed it in there, your Royal Perverted Highness.”
“Careful now,” the Sheikh said, lowering his voice and narrowing his eyes. “Or I will add you to the list of my employees who are about to be flogged, jailed, or beheaded.”
Nat stared at the Sheikh, again wondering if he was being serious or not. She took a breath and shrugged. “How’s that working out for you? Your man Siddiqui has defected to Saudi Arabia. As for Laila . . . well, where is she, anyway?”
The Sheikh turned to her, his hands on his hips. “First of all, I take objection to the statement that Siddiqui defected to Saudi Arabia. Do you have any idea how conservative and oppressive the Saudi regime is? As for Laila . . . ya Allah, what a bloody mistake!” He looked away as he finished the sentence, shaking his head in a way that made Nat wonder why this man was being so open with her. Was it because he didn’t give a damn about her? Or was it because he did?!
Stop trying to turn this into something it isn’t, Nat told herself as she watched Zameer’s jaw tighten, his eyes narrowing again as he gazed out over the vineyards and breathed deep of the clean Virginia air.
“It is beautiful, I will grant you that,” he said softly, his arm sliding around her waist again and pulling her close against his body.
Nat sensed her heat rise again as she felt the Sheikh’s hard body press up against her, and she gasped as he moved his hand down her back and caressed her ass so casually it was like they were old lovers. Or like she was his whore.
“Listen,” she said, pulling away as the blood rushed to her cheeks. “What happened back there was . . . I mean obviously I . . .”
“Obviously,” he said, turning to her and grinning like the devil he was. “And obviously I enjoyed it too. What is the problem?”
Nat blinked in disbelief. “The problem? Zameer, the problem is that you’re acting like we’re together, putting your arm around me, squeezing my ass in public, saying things like—”
“Public? Where is the public?” the Sheikh said, grinning and spreading his thick, muscular arms out wide.
Nat shook her head. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. And besides, your girl Laila could be watching us through a telescope, for all we know.”
“Then let us give her something to watch, shall we?” the Sheikh said with a shrug, reaching for her breasts as she swatted his hand away.
“OK, you’re sick!” she said, slapping his hand away again as he grinned and stepped close, pushing her against the railing at the edge of the bluff and leaning in to kiss her. “No! We’re talking, Zameer!”
“Talk is cheap,” the Sheikh growled, pressing his body against hers and grabbing her by the hair. “And good sex is priceless. Now look up at me so I can kiss you.”
“No,” she said, trying to turn her face away but unable to because the Sheikh had slid his fingers into her hair and tightened his grip.
“What I want. When I want. How I want. One week,” he whispered as he held her firm against the railing, his lips almost touching hers. “Do we still have a deal?”
Nat felt the cold railing press against her back, the Sheikh’s hardness press against her front, the plug in her rear still firmly in place as her buttocks tightened. “Well,” she whispered, her arousal spiraling upward as a warm breeze moving up her dress reminded her she wasn’t wearing any panties, “I still have an oversized wine-cork in my ass, so I guess so.”
The Sheikh laughed, kissing her hard on the lips and then reaching between them and unbuckling and unzipping so fast Nat gasped when she felt his cock spring out. He was fully erect, and the sight of his glistening shaft in the midday sun made her almost swoon with desire. God, she wanted him. Who gave a damn if she was whore for it.
“But I am a reasonable man,” he whispered as he pushed up her dress, raising an eyebrow as he fingered her naked pussy. “So we can continue talking if that is what you want. I just need to put my cock inside you first. Yes?”
Nat nodded, her face going flush as she listened to him speak in such matter-of-fact terms about putting his cock inside her out in the open, in the middle of the goddamn day! “As you wish, your Royal Perverted Highness,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically and letting him raise her left leg and position his cock against her slit that was already hot and wet.
The Sheikh pushed himself into her, almost lifting her off her feet as he drove in all the way deep. Nat gasped as she felt herself being stretched wide and penetrated deep, and her eyes rolled up in her head as the Sheikh reached behind her, cupped her ass with his strong hands, and lifted her clean off her feet.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he grunted. “I will hold you.”
Nat nodded, doing what he said, unable to speak as she wrapped her legs around his hips and felt her weight drive his cock into her so deep she wasn’t sure if she could take all of him. But the Sheikh was strong, and he held her up effortlessly, and soon he was gently bouncing her on his cock as the sun shone down on them, the birds chirped around them, the plump grapes stared up at them from the valley below.
“Where are your workers?” the Sheikh said as he pumped his hips and drove up into her.
“What?” Nat gasped, her eyelids fluttering open. “Oh, they spend a few hours here every morning and then move on to some of the other vineyards in Northern Virginia. They’re migrant labor, and they service a lot of the vineyards in the area. I don’t need them here all day until it’s time to harvest.”
“So you run this entire place on your own the rest of the day?”
Nat nodded, gasping as she felt the Sheikh flex inside her, his thrusts gaining force as she tightened her legs around his waist and ass. “It’s not that hard. I hire a few part-time workers during the holidays. Peggy helps out sometimes too if I need her.”
“Who is Peggy? Your sister?” the Sheikh asked, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, his jaw clenched tight as he pumped harder into her, raising and lowering her onto his cock in a way that made Nat dizzy with ecstasy.
“You could say that, I guess,” Nat muttered, arching her neck back and moaning. “Just a good friend. She was the one who suggested I get in touch with you and try to buy the winery. She helped me put the numbers together, get the bank loans lined up, all of it, really. She even helped me figure out where Al-Ladaak Investments had their office.”
The Sheikh frowned as he pushed into her and paused. “Interesting. How did she figure that out?”
“Um, it’s called Google?” Nat said. She blinked and frowned playfully. “And, um, why did you stop?”
The Sheikh grinned. “Just wanted to admire the scenery for a moment,” he said, gazing out past her and taking a deep breath. “So much greenery. My kingdom is mostly yellow and blue.”
“Yellow and blue?”
“Sand and sky,” said the Sheikh.
“Like a beach.”
The Sheikh laughed, leaning in and kissing her, pushing himself back up into her as he did it. “If you like cacti on your beach, then yes.”
“Cacti?” Nat gasped, arching her neck back and staring up at the blue sky. It occurred to her that this was the same sky that blanketed the Sheikh’s faraway kingdom, and although it was a trivial thought, it seemed profound as she felt him flex inside her in the most intimate way. “What kind?”
The Sheikh pushed up all the way into
her and held himself there, looking down at her and raising an eyebrow. “You are a botanist now?”
“I know a thing or two about plants.”
Zameer glanced past her and down at the sprawling vineyard, and he chuckled. “Ah, yes. Of course. A vintner is part scientist, part artist, yes?”
“Sure. Let’s go with that. So tell me about your cacti.”
“My cacti. Certainly, Dr. Norwood. Let us see now . . . the shafts are long and thick, the heads large and bulbous, and when in season they ooze a sticky white fluid that is sweet to the taste.”
Nat squealed with laughter as she felt the Sheikh begin to slowly pump his cock into her again, the old metal railing behind her creaking gently. “You’re sick,” she whispered as she felt herself approach a rollicking climax, felt him bringing her there easily, naturally, like it was . . . real.
This isn’t real, she told herself as her eyes rolled up in her head as that climax took her. She could feel the breeze swirl beneath her dress, the warm sun on her neck and shoulders, the strength of the Sheikh’s grip as she wrapped her legs tight around his waist and clenched her pussy in ecstasy. No, it isn’t real. He’s going to fuck you for a week and then disappear. He’s pretty much already told you that, and everything you know about him confirms that. So enjoy the sex, negotiate a severance payment for when he shuts down the vineyard, and get ready for the next phase of your life.
And as she thought it she felt him explode inside her, his body tensing up as he came, and it was so quick and unexpected, his orgasm coming as she was still ascending to her own climax, that she just smiled and pressed herself deeper into him, a twisted thought passing through her mind that perhaps this could be the ultimate leverage in the negotiation: A child.
You really are a whore, she thought, smiling and arching her head back as she felt the Sheikh’s semen shoot up into her. She tried to hold it in there this time, a mixture of guilt and excitement rising up in her as she realized that certainly he was no fool, that he’d fucked a thousand women before her and he was most certainly mindful of where he was putting his seed.
So what does it mean if he’s come inside me twice today, even after I’ve told him I’m not on birth control? The first time could be called a mistake, with Laila walking in and distracting him before he could pull out. But this time? With just the two of us under blue sky and golden sun? Does he know what he’s doing? Do I know what I’m doing? What does it mean? What the hell does it mean?
14
“What does it mean?” Nat asked Peggy as the two of them sipped on the pinot she’d just opened. Nat had barely gotten through half a glass, when ordinarily she’d be opening the second bottle by now.
The Sheikh had flown back to Washington that morning, promising to be back by the evening to fulfill his part of the deal to visit with her for an entire week. Nat had rolled her eyes and waved her hand, a part of her certain that the next time she heard his name it would be on an eviction notice handed to her by a construction crew driving bulldozers onto her precious vineyard to turn it into a sand-pit. But another part of her was terrified . . . terrified that he would return, that he would stay with her for a week, that this feeling growing inside her would continue to grow, continue to blossom, continue to give her false hope, trick her into dreaming a dream that couldn’t possibly come true.
And here she was sipping her wine hesitantly, like it was poison. Nat blinked as she looked at the dark red liquid, and then she slowly pushed the glass away as she touched her round belly. Again that feeling of guilt mixed with excitement ripped through her as she thought about the previous day with the Sheikh.
They hadn’t slept in the same room, but that was only because they’d barely slept at all. After he’d finished in her, she’d finished the grand tour of the vineyard and the winery buildings, showing him the vats where they aged the wine, the small but efficient bottling facility, even the room where she printed the labels. He’d seemed reasonably interested for someone who thought alcohol was the drink of the devil, and although Nat hadn’t pushed the issue, she’d certainly noticed a look that she interpreted as nostalgia when she saw how the Sheikh’s eyes took on a far-off focus when they talked about the history of wine and its place in almost every great civilization.
“Arab culture has its own intoxicants,” the Sheikh had told her when they talked of the Greeks and the Romans and Japanese rice-wine and how ancient armies survived on wine instead of water because wine didn’t get contaminated when carried on long expeditions. “Did you know the term assassin comes from the word hashish? It was named after the elite forces in ancient Arabian armies, men and women who smoked themselves into a religious fervor before eliminating their targets.”
“Women? In ancient armies? I thought the Arab world kept their women veiled, uneducated, and locked up in harems,” Nat had quipped as they strolled past the large silent vats of not-so-ancient wine.
“Only the curvy white women they kidnap,” the Sheikh had replied, doing his best to hold back his smile. “The rest of our women get high and kill people in secret.”
Nat had laughed, linking her arm with his as they walked together like they’d known each other forever. She’d been acutely aware of the semen slowly dripping out of her as they walked together, and she’d been even more aware of the curious lack of any conversation about it. Did he not care that he’d come inside her again? Did he not realize it? Had he already decided to have her killed by his “hashashins” and so it didn’t matter if she got knocked up? Who the hell knew!
“I don’t know!” Peggy said, squinting at the computer monitor and then leaning back and taking a surprisingly long gulp from her glass. “I don’t read Arabic!”
“Well, can’t we translate it or something? Come on. You know this stuff, Peggy!” Nat said, pushing the keyboard of the desktop computer towards Peggy.
“This stuff? You mean how to use a computer? Seriously, you need to get out more,” Peggy said, shaking her head and turning towards the computer monitor.
“And how would that help me learn more about computers?” Nat shot back, leaning over Peggy’s shoulder and staring as the translation of the Arabic news article came up on the screen. “Oh! There it is in English! Peggy, you’re a genius.”
“I know,” said Peggy, leaning back with uncharacteristic smugness and draining her glass. “You need me to read it to you, or can you handle that?”
Nat frowned at Peggy as the thin, bespectacled finance teacher poured herself another glass of wine. Peggy had been acting a bit strange today, Nat thought. Perhaps it was the wine. Maybe it was because school was starting up again for Peggy and she was stressed. Or maybe it was just Nat’s imagination.
She ignored the feeling and looked back at the computer screen, scanning through the article quickly and then going back and reading it in detail. “So it sounds like this guy Siddiqui is really out to get Zameer,” Nat said. “Accusing him of stealing the throne from his older brother.”
“Zameer? You guys on a first name basis now?” Peggy said, her words slurring just enough for Nat to notice.
Nat took a breath, fighting the urge to whip around and say, “Well, he came inside me twice yesterday, so yeah, I think we’re on a first name basis now.” But she held her tongue, trusting the instinct telling her to keep what had happened private for now.
“Anyway,” Peggy said, scrolling through the article. “Siddiqui’s clearly convinced the Saudi government that Zameer’s ascendancy was illegitimate.”
“It says the Saudis are investigating the claims. I’d hardly call that being convinced.”
“Honey, if the Saudis announced they’re taking Siddiqui’s claim seriously enough to actually investigate it, you can be sure there’s substance behind it.”
“Oh, so you’re an expert on Middle Eastern politics now?” Nat casually asked, feeling Peggy tense up as the two women stared at the compute
r monitor and not each other.
“Maybe. But certainly not an expert on Middle Eastern cock,” Peggy shot back without turning. “I think you’ve got that part locked down.”
Nat’s eyes went wide as she turned and stared at Peggy. “What the hell was that?” she asked. “How did you know?”
Peggy snorted. “How could I not know? It’s all over your face! He fucked you left, right, and center yesterday, didn’t he? Tell me, did he take you in the ass too? Every Sheikh Romance I’ve ever read has the king taking his American whore in the butt.”
“Peggy! What the hell?!”
Peggy drove her fingers into her hair and pushed her chair back from the desk. “Oh, God, I’m so, so sorry! I can’t believe I said that! I’m just . . .” She glanced at the wine and then shook her head and smiled. “I shouldn’t drink when I have my period. I just talk crazy. Nat, I’m really, really—”
“Forget it,” Nat said, smiling back even as she felt a chill run through her body. She shifted in her seat, that cork in her rear moving as if to remind her that she was the desert king’s American whore, and that she was going to get taken in the—
“No! I’m a horrible, horrible friend! I’m totally jealous, and I hate my life, and my marriage is boring, and my kids are driving me nuts, and . . . and . . .”
Nat’s eyes went even wider as she stared at the calm, focused Peggy totally lose it. This woman who’d always seemed so together, her life perfectly tailored, immaculately organized, pristinely polished was breaking down for what seemed like no reason whatsoever. She waited for Peggy to go on, but she didn’t, and Nat finally took a breath and slowly moved the wine-glass away.
“You’re right. You really shouldn’t drink while you have your period,” she said, smiling hesitantly at her friend.
Peggy broke a smile, her face turning red as she took a breath and then burst into laughter. Then suddenly the two of them were hugging, and Nat decided everything was OK, that it was perfectly normal for two close friends to have a moment like this, that the fact that Peggy had admitted she was jealous of the sudden excitement in Nat’s life was proof that they were indeed good friends, that they could be honest with each other, tell each other their darkest secrets, their deepest fears, their most shameful feelings.
Uncorked for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 14) Page 8
