Nat snorted, her eyes widening. “Are you kidding me? The fermentation of sugar into alcohol is an entirely natural process! How do you think we discovered alcohol in the first place!”
The Sheikh grunted as he got her pants down beneath her round buttocks and pushed his hands down her panties from behind, cupping her asscheeks and shaking his head. “Perhaps your people discovered alcohol. My people certainly did not.”
Nat snorted again. “Your ignorance of history is astounding, not to mention the racist undertones of using the terms ‘my people’ and ‘your people.’ We’re all the same people, Zameer.”
Zameer squeezed her ass hard and then pressed on the cork, pushing it in so deep Nat tensed up and moaned. “You just called me ignorant and a racist,” he growled in her ear. “I have had people flogged for less than that.”
“Then you’re just proving that you’re an ignorant beast, drunk on his own power,” Nat muttered, her breath catching as she felt her asshole expand from the bulb of the cork and the Sheikh’s pressure. A chill ran through her as she wondered if she was saying too much, pushing him too hard. After all, she still didn’t know this man from Adam, did she?
“Better than being drunk on her own product,” Zameer replied without missing a beat. “I taste it on you. I smell it on you.”
“Tastes sweet, don’t it?” she slurred, the words just continuing to flow. “Smells good, right?”
“Tastes like sin,” he muttered, kissing her lips again, pushing his tongue into her warm mouth and swirling it around. “Smells like evil.”
Nat laughed. “What is it with you and alcohol? Clearly you’ve tried it. And clearly this isn’t about religion, because technically you’ve already consumed it just from kissing me.”
“Ya Allah, the horror!” the Sheikh said, grinning as he pulled back from her and licked his lips. “I will burn in hell for this!”
“You and me both,” Nat said, giggling as the Sheikh pulled her pants down to her ankles and then held her steady as she stepped out of them.
“You are religious?” the Sheikh asked as he ripped her panties down the seam with such ease that Nat didn’t even realize what was happening until he held them up, sniffed them like a filthy animal, and then tossed them over his shoulder.
Nat felt the cool night breeze against her bare ass and crotch, and she stepped closer to the Sheikh’s warm body, unzipping him and gasping as she reached in and felt the heat of his massive erection.
“Obviously not, since I was raised Catholic,” she said, grasping his cock through his black silk underwear, marveling at how it filled her hand to the point where she couldn’t even close her fist over the swollen shaft. “And sex before marriage is a sin.”
The Sheikh grunted as he glanced down at her hand, smiling as Nat slowly jerked his cock back and forth. He stayed silent for a while as she brought him up to full hardness, and then he pushed her hand away and quickly stripped, pulling off his shirt, stepping out of his trousers, yanking down his underwear and letting his glorious cock spring out. “So it would be best if we got married before I fuck you in the arse?”
Nat almost doubled over as a burst of shocked laughter spontaneously emerged, and suddenly they were both laughing out loud, the two of them alone on the hill, beneath the stars, naked and sinful.
“Actually, doing it from behind is a thing for some super-religious folks,” Nat said. “It’s called the loophole.”
The Sheikh laughed as he pulled her close, turning her around so her bottom pressed against his heavy cock. She felt his shaft line up against her crack, pushing against the plug and driving it almost all the way in. “The loophole?” he said. “I have not heard that before.”
“Yeah, the idea being that you can take it up the butt for years and still technically remain a virgin for your wedding night like a good girl. The loophole. See?”
“Yes, I see,” the Sheikh whispered, turning the cork slowly in her. “How does this feel?”
Nat tightened as she felt the smooth, pliable cork turn in her asshole, and she leaned back against the Sheikh’s hard, naked body, raising her arms as he clawed at her breasts with his one free hand.
“Sinful,” she whispered, smiling as her eyes closed and her body shuddered.
“Good,” the Sheikh grunted, turning it once more and then stopping. “But it is not time yet. You are not ready to be uncorked.”
Nat frowned, her eyes still closed, body still pressed back against the Sheikh’s erection. She could smell the Virginia pine on the gentle night-time breeze, almost taste the aroma of her dark grapes growing in the valley below the bluff. “Are you?” she asked, the words rolling off her tongue thick like molasses.
“Excuse me?” the Sheikh said, moving his hands around, rubbing her mound, burying his fingers in her coarse brown curls and then moving his hands up beneath her top. He pulled her black blouse open, yanking her bra up over her boobs and kneading her breasts until she could barely see straight from the arousal surging through her body and mind. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” Nat groaned, rubbing her ass against his erection as she felt the Sheikh squeeze her breasts harder, then rub her neck from behind. She sucked on his fingers when he touched her lips, reaching back with her left hand and grasping his cock, positioning its massive head against the cork and pressing until the Sheikh grunted and then pulled away.
“Uncorked,” he said, stepping away from her and turning toward the dark vineyard that could barely be seen. “Is that simply when you open a bottle of wine—pop the cork? Or does uncorking a wine mean to clean out the broken bits from a corked bottle of wine, to purify what seemed tainted?” He turned to her, smiling in the darkness, the moonlight reflecting off his pure white teeth. “Though I suppose a professional such as yourself rarely corks a wine, yes?”
Nat laughed. “I do it a lot, actually. Though I always toss those bottles. I don’t have the patience to pull out the tiny bits of cork. You can never get them all, so it’s pointless to try. A corked wine is ruined, and that’s that.”
“That’s that? How very dismissive of you.”
Nat shrugged, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make out his expression in the darkness. “I guess. What are we talking about here, Zameer? The wine or . . .”
“Never mind,” the Sheikh said quickly. “It is late, and it has been a long, strange day. Where am I staying tonight?”
Nat felt a chill go through her as she wondered what had just happened. She could tell that the Sheikh’s erection had waned, and for a moment she thought it was her. Did she look fat and ugly all naked under the moon and stars? Was he already bored with her after one night? Did she give herself to him too easily? Or was there something else going on here?
“You aren’t,” she said firmly, even though she felt a tremor in her voice. “There isn’t enough room on this property for you and all your emotional baggage.”
She could feel the Sheikh’s body tense up even though he stood back away from her and the moon had disappeared behind a cloud. The tension was so thick even that cheese-knife wouldn’t have made a dent in it. Again Nat wondered what the hell she was thinking, why she was speaking so freely to this man she’d known less than a week.
Then suddenly the moon came out from behind that cloud, and in the silver overhead light she saw Zameer staring at her, his cock hardening as a smile slowly broke on his face.
“No one has ever spoken to me like that,” he whispered, his eyes riveted on her. “Ya Allah, it is . . . it is . . . irresistible. It is bloody irresistible! Come here. Come here!”
She went to him immediately, her arousal mounting as she saw him harden to full mast. Her heart filled out with an intoxicating mixture of joy and confidence, and she would have laughed out loud if he hadn’t grabbed her by the hair and kissed her full on the lips, his tongue pushing deep into her mouth as if he
was hungry for her, starving for her, addicted to her.
“Please,” he muttered, pulling back and taking a desperate breath before licking her neck, biting her ear, kissing her cheeks. Then he placed his heavy paws on her shoulders, slowly pushing her down to her knees. “Please,” he groaned as Nat grasped his cock without hesitation, stroking his thick shaft, massaging his heavy balls. “Suck me, Nat. Please suck me. I need it. I need you.”
“All right,” she whispered, taking in the clean scent of his crotch, smiling in the darkness as she felt a strange sense of control as she held his royal balls in the palm of her hand, stroked his cock until it throbbed as the Sheikh’s blood pumped its way into it with fury. “But you need to start talking. It’s just the two of us here, Zameer. So unload your baggage on me. I’m here, and I’m listening. Unload yourself, and get uncorked.”
She heard the Sheikh grunt and snort like an animal as she began to lick the underside of his cock with the flat of her tongue. She licked him for several long minutes, massaging his balls from beneath, reveling in the feeling of his hands tightening on her head, his fingers digging into her thick brown tresses.
“All right,” he whispered. “Dammit, woman. All right. I will talk.”
Nat nodded and smiled, licking him one last time before opening her mouth, relaxing her throat, and taking him in deep, all the way deep, all the goddamn way.
17
The Sheikh almost buckled at the knees as Nat took him into her warm mouth, and he groaned out loud when she began to suck him. He looked down at her kneeling before him, controlling him with her mouth and hands even though he was holding her head tight, his fingers wrapped up in her hair.
He’d never met anyone like her, and he licked his lips and arched his neck as he tasted the hint of wine from their kisses. Was he drunk on that taste of wine? Or was it the taste of this woman that had taken him to the edge of reason, aroused him to the point where he’d already broken his oath to stay away from alcohol, his vow to keep his secrets, his brother’s secrets.
“It was never about religion,” he muttered as she sucked him. “Islam has many degrees of orthodoxy, just like Christianity or any other religion. And just like any religion, there are exceptions to the rules, loopholes if you will. So no, my oath to stay away from alcohol was not so much about philosophy or morality as it was about simple practicality.”
He felt her nod, the movement sending another wave of arousal through him, arousal that made him swallow hard and gasp for air as he went silent and enjoyed the moment. He’d never been sucked like this before, and he slowly moved his hips in time with Nat’s bobbing head as he watched her from above. He could feel her open her throat for him, the head of his cock sliding in so deep he wondered how she could possibly breathe. But she was handling it, handling him, handling the situation, and although the Sheikh felt a chill as he opened his mouth to speak words that he’d sworn would never be uttered, he knew he wasn’t stopping.
“I trust you,” he whispered. “I should not, but I do. Perhaps I am drunk on the taste of alcohol again, and my tongue is loose. Or perhaps I am drunk on you, Nat. Perhaps I am . . . ya Allah, that feels good! Yes, do that. Just like that. Awh, aljahim aldamawiu!”
He could feel his balls begin to tighten, and Zameer knew this woman was going to bring him to an orgasm so explosive he might not be able to remain standing as he came. But then he felt her slow down, as if she sensed his approaching climax and was controlling him like the drug she was, the intoxicant she was, the woman she was. All the woman he wanted. All the woman he needed.
“Go on,” she gasped, pulling away and taking a deep, gulping breath of air. “So your oath to stay away from alcohol wasn’t about religion but about practicality. What does that mean?”
The Sheikh pushed forward with his hips, watching in ecstasy as Nat rubbed the glistening head of his cock against her lips, finally opening up and letting him back in.
“Perception was one consideration,” he muttered after taking a breath and watching his shaft disappear into her mouth. “It was no secret that I enjoyed my drink, and while it was overlooked when I was just a prince, once I became Sheikh I needed to elevate my reputation. Especially after what happened with Zayaan. After the rumors that I had done something to him, made him disappear so I could take the throne.”
The Sheikh swallowed hard and took a deep breath. If he continued talking, there would be no going back. If he told this woman what he’d sworn to never tell another soul, it would mean . . . by Allah, what would it mean? Why was he saying anything to this woman?! Was he mad? Insane? Weak?
Or was he in love?
The thought came to him so suddenly he almost choked on the burst of emotion that came with it. What was happening to him? What was she doing to him?
Unload your baggage, she’d told him. Get uncorked. Talk to me.
I want to unload, the Sheikh thought as he looked down at the woman on her knees before him. Unload this burden I’ve been carrying alone for years. Share it with someone. Share it with her.
“Where is your brother?” came her voice, and the Sheikh blinked in the darkness as he tried to look into her eyes.
“Do you not want to ask if I killed him? Made him disappear?” he asked.
She shook her head as she looked up at him. “I know you didn’t do anything to him. That’s not you. You aren’t that man.”
“How do you know?” the Sheikh asked, his eyes finally meeting hers. In that moment he knew she was speaking her heart, that she knew him as well as anyone had ever known him, no matter how impossible it might seem after just a few days.
“I just know. And you know that I know. So just tell me.”
The Sheikh blinked again, and then he nodded in the darkness and began to speak. He told her about the night before Zayaan’s ascension, about how they’d shared a bottle and opened up to each other, two brothers talking about their deepest feelings. He told her about the kind of man Zayaan was: quiet, shy, simple. A man who hated the spotlight, resented the burden of power and authority, cared little for money beyond what was needed for a simple, uncomplicated life.
“So I let him walk away, and I took on the burden of the throne, survived the onslaught of rumors and accusations, proved myself to be a capable king and leader, earned the trust and respect of my people,” the Sheikh muttered as he watched her lips move back and forth over his shaft as if she was drawing the truth out of him with each movement of her head. “And I do not know where he is. That was part of our pact. It forced me to face the rumors and accusations, because I had no alternative. I did not have the option of breaking and simply announcing that Zayaan was in hiding somewhere in Europe or South America or wherever.” He gasped as he felt his climax approaching, his body’s release somehow in divine synchronicity with the release he felt just from telling someone what he’d kept to himself for ten years. “But now . . . Siddiqui . . . that bastard . . . he says he has found Zayaan, that there was a betrayal and that I am not the legitimate Sheikh of Ladaak!”
The Sheikh groaned as Nat pulled her mouth away and began to jerk his cock back and forth, a long trail of saliva connecting her lower lip to his throbbing masthead. She looked up at him and smiled as she took deep gulps of air, her face shining from the effort of sucking him.
“What difference does it make?” she asked. “Didn’t you say there were rumors and accusations when your brother left the night before he was supposed to be crowned Sheikh? You survived the rumors once. You’ll survive them again.”
“Yes, but what if Siddiqui truly has discovered where Zayaan is right now?” said Zameer, caressing her hair and looking down as she slowly stroked his heavy shaft and prepared to take him back into her warm mouth.
“Doesn’t that make it easier? All Zayaan has to do is tell the truth, that he basically abdicated the throne to you because he didn’t want to be Sheikh.”
Zameer shook his head, his jaw tightening, his fingers clawing at Nat’s hair as he pushed his hips forward until she opened up for him. He shuddered as he felt her lips smoothly glide over his shining shaft, her hands palm his balls. “Zayaan disappeared precisely because he did not want to deal with that in public. You do not know him, Nat. He is a quiet, reserved man, easily swayed by public opinion, often influenced by external pressure. He knew he wouldn’t be able to face his people and tell them he was shying away from his duty to be Sheikh. He preferred to just disappear, and I understood. Public life is not for everyone. He had the right to choose his path, to find his own way. Publicly abdicating the throne would have made him miserable and depressed. He would have lived in the Royal Palace as a failure, the older brother who was too weak to handle the burden of leadership. It would have been a harder burden for him to bear! This was the only way. Walk away with no explanation, no trace, no chance of discovery.”
“But if he didn’t want to be found, if even you don’t know which country he lives in, then how could Siddiqui have found him?” Nat asked, pulling back for a moment and then moving her head forward again. “He’s bluffing.”
Zameer shook his head. “The Saudis would not have issued a statement unless Siddiqui had something. Something real. Something definitive.”
Nat sat back on her haunches, and the Sheikh looked down at her face. She looked beautiful, he thought, her face glowing in the dim light of the moon and stars, her lips glistening with saliva and his pre-cum. It all seemed so natural, so clean, so pure: a man and a woman talking to each other, loving each other, pleasuring each other—all of it rolled into one, no separation between the merging of their minds, their bodies, their hearts.
She is my queen, he thought suddenly. Ya Allah, she is my queen! How else to explain why I am here, alone with her, saying things I swore I would never say to another living being, sharing family secrets that I vowed to never reveal. That is the only explanation, yes? That she is family too. My woman. My queen. My wife.
Uncorked for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 14) Page 10
