My Insatiable Sheikh: Hired Pregnancy and College Bully Romance (The Instalove Series Book 1)

by Marian Tee

  But the sheikh's lips only curved in indulgent amusement, and I had to curl my fingers against the urge to give him a good, hard smack on his too-beautiful face. He obviously wasn't taking any of my threats seriously, and why would he?

  The contract Dahlia had signed on my "behalf" made the balance of power between us exceedingly clear, and if this guy wanted me to jump out of the window, I was basically obliged to ask, "From what floor?"

  I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to try thinking of the situation objectively. The sheikh might be an asshole, but he was also the most devastatingly handsome asshole I had ever met, and I knew without a doubt sex with him wouldn't be hell.

  As much as it pained me to admit this, I knew it was likely to be the opposite, and sex with the SOB would be pretty much the closest to heaven I'd get. The attraction between us was just too powerful, it was honestly rather surprising we had managed to keep ourselves from tearing each other's clothes off this long.

  But even so.

  To give in just like that was a hard pill to swallow. I had principles, dammit. And it just didn't feel fucking right—-

  "How about a compromise?"

  The words, spoken out of the blue, had me shooting up in my seat. I checked to see if he was joking, but the sheikh appeared serious.

  "What kind of compromise?" I asked finally.

  "Three days."

  My breath caught.

  "You will not have to worry about losing your maidenhood for three days—-"

  Maidenhood?

  "In exchange for one condition—-"

  "I knew it." I knew it was too good to be true, and just as expected, there was a fucking catch. "Fine," I grumbled. "Give it to me."

  His gaze gleamed. "Actually, Ms. Teller...it's the other way around."

  My eyebrows shot up.

  "You will be the one giving me something."

  I stiffened.

  "You will pleasure me now, with your hand or your mouth - it is entirely up to you. But it has to be now or never."

  Hey pumpkin.

  It's been a while since you last called. Hope everything's going great with you.

  Call me when you're free.

  Message received at 1959h from Dad

  Chapter Six

  Un-fucking-believable, I found myself thinking for the nth time. But if you think it was the sheikh's sheer gall that had me stumped, then you'd be wrong. That the sheikh could come up with shit that was guaranteed to make me blow my top was a given. That was his kick, after all.

  But for my body to actually burn up the moment he mentioned blowjobs?

  That was what I had the hardest time wrapping my head around. It was as if my whole world just went bonkers wherever this guy was concerned. Just the thought of giving a guy head used to make me feel dirty and nauseous, but the moment it was this SOB saying the words, it was as if I never had trauma in the first place.

  It just didn't make any fucking sense, and the whole thing left me torn between virtuous self-disgust and good, old-fashioned lust.

  "In fifteen minutes," the sheikh murmured, "we'll be reaching your new place..."

  Ergo, I needed to make up my fucking mind in fifteen minutes.

  A lump formed in my throat as I tried to imagine how things would play out if I were to say yes. It might mean simply delaying the inevitable, but three days were still three days, and a lot could still happen in those seventy-two hours.

  Like...that crazy little idea maybe?

  Smarter Side of Me shook its head the moment the thought cropped up. Going down that road is a waste of your time. The words stung, but facts were facts, and I had to accept the reality of things. The sheikh might be attracted to me right now, but who knew how long that would last? Honestly, even the fact that he desired me in the first place made no sense, and letting myself forget that would only be asking for trouble.

  "Twelve minutes."

  Shit.

  I took a deep breath.

  To hell with it.

  I decided to blurt out the first word that came to my mind, and this happened to be...

  "Deal."

  The sheikh's gaze glinted. "I need you to spell it out—-"

  "Oh, fuck you."

  "So that there are no misunderstandings," he said firmly.

  "Fuck you," I said again.

  "Say it, habibti."

  My fingers curled into fists. "You already know—-"

  "Say it."

  It should have been an easy thing to do, to just say the words, but I suddenly found myself incapable of saying them, and my mind started playing flashbacks of the past out of nowhere.

  God, no.

  But it was too late, and ugly memories had me reliving the worst time of my life. I was sixteen again, and all the boys in school were staring at me like they really believed I was dying to have all of their dicks inside of my mouth—-

  "Story..."

  My eyes flew open, and it was only when the sheikh pulled up to the curb so he could wipe away my tears that I realized I had been crying without knowing it.

  "Shit." I angrily pushed his hand away so I could wipe my own tears.

  "Why are you crying?"

  "I'm not crying," I managed to snarl out...only to ruin it less than a second later as I tried sniffing my tears back.

  "Are you worried about your skills?"

  It took me a second to understand what he meant, but when the meaning of his words did kick in—-

  "Asshole." But for once, I found myself smiling even as I said it. "I'd never worry about something like that—-"

  "Because you are proficient at it, yes?"

  He was obviously teasing. He sounded like it, certainly. And yet there was something about the way he was looking at me that made my heart lurch—-

  Fuck, no.

  And I heard myself ask, "You know about it, don't you?"

  The sheikh met my gaze unflinchingly. "Yes."

  My blood went cold.

  "You are the woman I've chosen to bear my child," he said evenly. "It was my business to ensure I know everything about you."

  But everything, I thought dully, didn't really mean everything.

  Everything for him was nothing but a sick lie about me being a teenage whore whose favorite hobby was to get down on her knees—-

  Oh God.

  A familiar sense of shame washed over me as I thought about all those times the sheikh had taunted and toyed with me, and not once...God, not fucking once had I realized he was saying and doing all those things because he knew—-

  The girl to call for free blowjobs.

  A choked sob escaped me, and I heard the sheikh swear under his breath.

  "There is no need for tears, habibti." His hands clasped my shoulders as he spoke, but unlike before, his touch no longer gave me pleasure, and I fought like a wildcat to free myself.

  "Let go!"

  But his hands only tightened. "Look at me."

  "Fuck you!"

  "Look at me!"

  The harshness of his voice made my blurry gaze snap back to his. "You may think you know everything about me," I hissed, "but you don't. I'm not a whore—-"

  "I never thought you were."

  "Liar!"

  "I do know everything about you—-"

  A humorless laugh spilled past my lips. "What you know is a lie!"

  "Then tell me the truth," he invited.

  "There's no point," I said bitterly. "You'll never believe—-"

  "That you have an identical twin who takes pleasure in making your life miserable?"

  Hi Story.

  Sorry it took me a while to get back to you. My husband says the only thing I'm legally permitted to confirm is that the sheikh is NOT involved in organized crime in any way, and that you may trust the sheikh to keep his word once given.

  P.S. Damen hasn't stopped laughing since. He thinks it's a hoot that you mistook the sheikh for a mob boss.

  P.P.S. When did you guys start dating?!

 
; Message received at 2005h from Professor L.

  Chapter Seven

  The sheikh and I ended up with a detour to the nearest cafe, and I could only sit in stunned silence as he told me how he was able to find out about Dahlia.

  "The woman I met was too different from the woman whose interview I watched, and I am not merely speaking about superficial dissimilarities. Even if both of you had the same style of hair and clothes, the differences were still glaring. For one thing, your twin has very hard eyes while you..." A slight smile curved over the sheikh's lips. "You can try your utmost to hide your innocence, but your eyes will always betray you. They are too soft and pure."

  I grunted, unwilling to let myself feel flattered. This was the sheikh, after all, and knowing him, the SOB would most likely find it a pleasure to corrupt my so-called innocence.

  "After that," the sheikh continued, "it was only a matter of time." He told me about getting his security team to do a more thorough check on my background. One clue had eventually led to another, but it was only this morning that he had a complete report on his desk, and all the puzzle pieces had fallen into place.

  He knew about Judith changing her name to Portia, knew about Dahlia impersonating me back in high school, and he even knew about what Greg had done at his previous company.

  "Since I did not see you as the type to merely take things lying down," the sheikh said succinctly, "the only other plausible conclusion I could draw was that you were being blackmailed."

  Even though he was only stating facts, it still hurt to hear the truth. I was being blackmailed, and even after all these years, my stupid heart still bled every time I thought about how it was my own mother who was holding a gun to my head.

  "My team informs me that Dahlia is currently on vacation in the Bahamas..."

  I was entranced by the way the sheikh's lip curled ever so slightly in contempt when he mentioned my twin's name. All the guys I knew always fell head over heels over Dahlia from the get go. It was my first time to see any man reacting differently, and for it to be the sheikh...

  "You are aware of this?" he questioned, and when I nodded, he went on to ask, "Then I think we have covered everything, yes?"

  Had we? I felt like we were missing something, but at the moment, all I could suddenly think about was how this completely changed things. "If you know the truth," I said slowly, "then doesn't that mean you can no longer force me to..."

  I saw him raise a brow, almost as if he was insinuating my question was ludicrous, and I was filled with incredulity.

  "You can't be serious," I sputtered.

  "It is still your name in the contract," he pointed out.

  "But—-"

  "There are no buts, habibti. Even if you had the means to pay back the advance - which we both know you do not - it still wouldn't change a thing. The only way out for you is to get Dahlia involved..."

  He didn't have to say anything else after that. If I got Dahlia involved, Portia would surely make a move of her own as well, and then Greg...

  Fuck.

  Nothing had changed after all, and I had once again acted with disgusting naïvete, letting myself think for even one moment that the sheikh would've let me off the hook in light of Dahlia's duplicity. The sheikh was an asshole first and foremost, and he was too fucking ruthless to release me from the contract just like that.

  But even so...

  "Don't you care at all," I burst out, "that I never signed your stupid contract in the first place? If you still insist on...on things, then you'd be forcing me—-"

  "There will be no force involved," the sheikh slotted in, "and you know it. I only have to look at you now, habibti..." He suited action to words, his gaze slowly trailing down my body until he was staring at my tits.

  "Stop that."

  But still his gaze lingered, his eyes blatantly revealing his desire, and to my utter shame, I could feel my body responding, my breasts once again swelling and aching, and my nipples starting to pout and pucker.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I heard the sheikh laugh as I quickly crossed my arms over my chest in a futile attempt to control my body's reaction.

  "You see now how good it can be between us, my Story?"

  "Shut up." But with the way my voice was still faintly breathless, I might as well have told him the truth. Yes, dammit. I knew and had always known it could be so good between us, but...

  "It would have made things easier for me," he murmured, "if I had never told you what I knew about your twin."

  That was true, but so what?

  "But I chose to let you know the truth because I wanted there to be no lies between us. I think of our circumstances as a gift of fate, habibti. If not for what your twin did, our paths would never have crossed."

  "What exactly are you getting at?" I asked uneasily.

  "We enter into a new agreement," he said simply. "You are to still bear my child and stay under my care until you give birth—-"

  "I can't," I said flatly. "I'm willing to admit that we have a certain chemistry, but even so. I can't just give away my child—-"

  "Who says you have to?"

  "But the contract—-"

  "That was when I thought you were nothing but a gold-digger," he rebutted, "and you cannot fault me for that, since at that time my opinion was entirely based on Dahlia's...performance."

  There was that curl of his lip again, and God, as much as I hated him for his cocky ways, he was also surprisingly good for my ego. He really was one of a kind, with the way he could so easily see through Dahlia's act.

  "The new contract will be different," the sheikh went on to say. "If it is you, I will not mind having you in the child's life for as long as you wish. It will benefit the child even, having both birth parents around."

  I tried wrapping my head around what he was suggesting. Basically, he still wanted me to be his baby mama, and even though he hadn't said anything about the perks that would come with the position, if the old contract was anything to go by, then I was sure they'd be nothing to complain about.

  So, compensation-wise, I supposed the contract worked completely to my advantage, but...

  A baby?

  Getting married had never been part of my plans, much less having a kid. I knew myself well enough to know I'd be a responsible mother, but what about being happy? Would I be happy being a mom?

  I used to think a woman was born with maternal instincts, but getting to know Portia obviously proved otherwise.

  "What if I'm not ready to become a mother," I finally forced myself to ask, "and I suddenly don't want to be a part of the baby's life?"

  "Then you won't be."

  I took a peek at his expression and was relieved to find zero judgment on the asshole's face. It was nice to know the SOB still had a few redeeming qualities, and with the issue of motherhood taken care of, I moved on to other concerns.

  "What about marriage? We don't need to tie the knot or anything, right?"

  The sheikh was visibly amused. "Marriage is a deal-breaker, I take it?"

  "Very much."

  "Then you'll be glad to know I would never have required it from you," he assured me.

  "Good."

  "Is that all?"

  "You wish."

  The sheikh's lips curved. "Then proceed with your next concern."

  "Confidentiality?"

  "The same with the old contract, and non-disclosure goes for us both."

  "Artificial insemination—-"

  "Over my dead body," the sheikh rejected in a voice of cold distaste, "and that is the last time we shall even talk about it. Your next concern?"

  "Your name?"

  The sheikh's gaze gleamed. "I shall tell you when it's the right time."

  "Oh, for fuck's sake."

  "But in the meantime, you may continue addressing me as 'sheikh'."

  "How about asshole?"

  "If that's what turns you on, habibti."

  Gaaaah. I hated it when he managed to get the las
t word like that.

  "If that's all..."

  I quickly shook my head. "Not so fast." Discussing future plans about making babies might be normal for him, but this was my first rodeo, and I was determined to take as much time as needed to hash things out.

  "What about other lovers?" I dared to ask.

  "As I want you pregnant as soon as possible—-"

  I couldn't help frowning at this, and I interrupted him to ask, "Why are you in such a hurry to have a baby?"

  The sheikh's gaze became veiled, and I knew right away that this was one thing he had hoped to avoid discussing. "Securing the line of succession," he said finally, "is the price I have to pay for my freedom."

  Mafia, I couldn't help thinking again, but then I remembered Mrs. L's text. Oh. Right. So scratch that. Not Mafia then, but maybe something equally old-fashioned? Since he was a sheikh, then maybe that was something similar to how British aristocracy worked, and one had to have a male heir to inherit the title?

  Well, whatever. The important thing here was that his reason for having a "deadline" was valid and nothing like all those scary things I imagined. I mean, honestly. I did wonder at one point if he was part of some cult, and he had meant to offer his baby up as a sacrifice.

  Clearing my throat, I went back to our negotiations, saying, "The other lovers then..."

  "The two of us shall remain exclusive to each other until you give birth. After that, we renegotiate."

  "Fair enough."

  "Anything else, habibti?"

  I mulled it over for several moments before slowly shaking my head. "I think that's it."

  "Good."

  And just like that, the purr was back in his voice, and my heart was once again hammering against my chest. It was only then that the full import of what I had agreed to truly sank in, and I found myself mentally reeling. Had I really agreed to let this man-—

  "It's time then."

  Time? I was immediately distracted. Time for what?

  "I gave you two choices earlier."

  Shit.

  I had actually forgotten about that.

  "What shall it be, habibti?"

  Hey Siri.