by Marian Tee
I nodded again.
"It is something I truly believe in. You and I have extremely different lives, and it could only be destiny that have placed you in my path. The first time we met—-"
"Dahlia's interview?"
There was that flash of his lip curling again, and I had to bite back a smile.
"No. She was merely the means for me to meet you, but other than that, she has no other importance. You, however...when we met, there was this instant and inexplicable connection between us—-"
"Hate at first sight?" I quipped.
The sheikh smiled. "Actually, yes. There was something about you that made me feel this rare desire to let all of my walls down..."
To love you, was what I secretly hoped he'd say, but instead...
"To be cruel to you."
My jaw dropped. "Seriously?"
"I have never felt anything like it with anyone before."
"Are you fucking serious?"
"It is amazing, habibti, the way you bring out the worst in me."
"God, you are such an asshole."
"It's why I knew. You were indeed the woman I have been looking for."
"Because I make a great punching bag," I asked sarcastically, "and an outlet for all of your evil ways?"
"Do not forget" he said solemnly, "about being the oven for my bun."
I couldn't help laughing even though I knew he was only pretending to have gotten the idiom wrong, and despite all those horrible things he had said...
I actually found myself believing all those things he said about leading a severely restrictive life and discovering this instant connection between us...
But more importantly...
He made me feel special.
Different.
And it was the right kind of different, even if it involved him actually wanting to bully me and no one else.
"You are alright now?"
The sheikh's soft tone caught me off guard, but it was the flash of emotion in his eyes that had me capable of only nodding weakly in response. Shit. That couldn't be what I thought it was. Could it? I mean, even if we did have a connection, and I was, as he said, different...that flash in his eyes couldn't be the fucking L-word. Right?
"Then may it be my turn to ask a question?"
His words were the distraction I needed, and I said quickly, "Fire away." No doubt, since he had just opened up about his personal life, he wanted me to do the same thing, too. And that was fine. Whatever he asked, I'd answer, whether it had to do with Dahlia, Greg, or—-
"Did you do as I asked?"
"Huh?"
"The panties, habibti."
Oh.
Shit.
I had forgotten about that.
"Did you wear them to class? Did you stay wet for me?"
And just like that, the game was on again, but this time, even though I still did think he was an asshole, it wasn't like before. Because I now understood where his streak of cruelty was coming from, I found myself able to derive more pleasure from his words, and when I saw the way his gaze was hungrily devouring the sight of my trembling body...
Oh God.
And I heard myself ask, "What if I did?"
"Then you'll have a reward," he purred.
"Is it something you're sure I'd like?"
"We'll see, shall we?" A smile played over his lips. "It will be your choice, after all."
Lust began to glitter in his eyes, and my heart started hammering again. Whatever those choices were, I had a feeling it would have me end up in hot water again—-
"You can ask for my name...or you can tell me to make you cum with my mouth."
And I was right.
Like, seriously, what kind of choice was that? His name or his mouth? Just thinking of it had my lips feeling chapped and dry, and I saw the sheikh's nostrils flare when I wetted them unthinkingly.
Shiiiiiiiiiiit.
"What shall it be, habibti?"
The sheikh's voice was no longer smooth. It was now low and rough with desire, and fuck if that didn't make me lose my mind as I heard myself say, "Cock."
Hey Siri.
Do you believe in love at first sight?
Hmm. I don't have an answer for that. Is there something else I can help you with?
Chapter Twelve
The cocky piece of sheikh didn't even bat an eye. Instead, he simply let his hot, dark eyes do all the talking, and man, oh man, but it was effective, too, with the way I found myself trembling even harder under his lust-filled gaze.
Hot and bothered didn't even cover it now. I was practically feverish with desire, and when he took my hand, the thought of resisting didn't even occur to me. I allowed the sheikh to draw me back to the bedroom, and when he sat on the edge of the bed, I let him pull me close until I was standing between his legs.
My gaze drifted down, just in time to see the towel wrapped around his hips unknot itself before gradually falling open.
Ooooh.
The next thing I knew, I was staring straight at his fully engorged dick, and damn if it didn't seem so, so much larger and longer than I allowed myself to remember. I mean, seriously, was this for real? Or had he started taking some kind of enlargement pill since the last time?
My eyes widened when I saw him reach for his dick, and a helpless whimper spilled past my lips when he started stroking himself. Who knew, who the fuck knew watching a man stroking himself could be this hot?
Forget about being feverish, dammit.
I was practically delirious, and my quivering pussy so damn wet I could feel my panties getting soaked for the second time around.
"So you want this, habibti?" the sheikh purred.
All I could do was glare at him, both of us knowing that any denial would be a pathetic lie. I had two more days left with my reprieve, and instead I had asked him to fuck me in advance.
"I'm not sure if I'll be able to avoid hurting you," the sheikh murmured. "Then again..." His dark gaze glinted. "I can't say I don't look forward to seeing you bleed a little once I breach you."
"Asshole."
"It would be good if I could make you cry a little, too."
"ASSHOLE."
But of course, this only made the sheikh smile...until he started stroking himself faster, and I found myself staring in fascination at the way his jaw gradually clenched.
"Story."
The rough rasp of his voice startled me into looking up, and my breath caught at the taut look of raw, stark desire etched over his broodingly handsome face. "Strip."
The command in his voice was unmistakable, but something made me hesitate, and seeing this, his voice took on a sharp edge of warning.
"Now, habibti."
A silent threat underscored the words, but instead of feeling scared or angry, I was shocked to realize that it was nothing but excitement coursing through my veins and making my fingers shake as I reached for the hem of my shirt.
It seemed to take forever before I could get rid of my clothes.
Shirt.
Jeans.
Bra.
And finally, that scrap of cotton protecting my pussy.
"Stop covering yourself," the sheikh growled.
"Asshole." But even so, I couldn't help submitting to his command, and my arms slowly fell to my sides. I was completely naked now, every bare inch of my body exposed to his gaze.
The fingers around his cock stilled as he studied me, and I could feel myself turning red all over under the hungry intensity of his scrutiny.
"Cup your tits."
I started to protest, but when I saw the way his gaze narrowed in warning, I found myself swallowing the words back and doing as he said. I slowly reached up to cup my breasts. They felt heavier than usual, and they were aching pretty hard, too.
"Play with your nipples."
Another instinctive protest brimmed over the edge of my lips, but the sheikh seemed to sense this, and his lips tightened. "Don't make me fucking repeat myself."
Asshol
e. I could only curse him in silence as my fingers started shaking again. Oh God. My face felt ridiculously hot as my fingers finally found my nipples, and another delirious wave of awareness washed over me as I started playing with them.
I alternated between pinching and tweaking my nipples, and each time I did, a punishingly sweet jolt of pleasure would strike my body.
"Harder, habibti."
This time, I didn't even think of disobeying him. Pleasure had me completely enslaved, and it grew exponentially when I did as he ordered. Oh God. My eyes drifted shut, and I found myself fantasizing that it was the sheikh's fingers—-
No.
Wait.
Ah.
My hands were suddenly brushed aside, fantasy instantly turning into reality as the sheikh replaced my touch, and it was truly his fingers now that were playing with my nipples.
God. Oh God.
There was nothing gentle about his touch. He was kneading my breasts hard, pinching my nipples hard, and when his head bent close, I could only cry out when I felt him actually biting the swollen, pouting tips.
"Ah!"
My nipples stung, but the sensation was as painful as it was arousing, and I found myself blindly reaching up to grip his hair as he started sucking on my nipples. God, he was practically eating me now, his mouth devouring almost half of my breast, and it felt so, so unbelievably good.
I cried out in protest when he lifted his head, but thankfully it was only so he could do the same thing to my other breast, biting my nipple once more before soothing it with circular sweeps of his tongue.
Moisture started turning my already swollen folds creamy, and my legs started to shake. I didn't think I could take any more of this. He was making me feel so damn weak. But just as my legs threatened to give out, he suddenly pulled me close and twisted us around.
The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on his massive bed, and he was looming over me, his handsome face taut with desire. I saw his gaze trail down just as he pried my legs open, and my heart leapt to my throat as I felt him staring at my aching cunt.
Idiot that I was, I thought he'd say something at that moment, but...
This was the sheikh, after all.
And because the asshole knew that my lack of experience meant I only had the usual books and movies to rely on (and in those cases, the guy would always say something first, just to sort of prepare the girl for what was about to happen)—-
The only warning I got was that cruel glint of triumph in his dark gaze.
Oh, fuck.
I'm fucked.
And I was.
I cried out as his enormous cock tore through my hymen in one deep, hard thrust, and the pain, albeit fleeting, was still enough to have my body stiffen and jerk. I instinctively dug my nails deep into the panes of his back. I wanted him to hurt, too, dammit, and his grunt of pain was music to my ears.
The feeling of being so fully penetrated, with his dick embedded to the hilt, was nothing like I imagined. He had me so fucking stuffed, there didn't seem to be the tiniest part inside of me that his cock wasn't rubbing against, and when I felt him slowly start to withdraw...
All I could do was tense and hold my breath, unable to help wondering if perhaps this was the part where the sheikh would inevitably fail me. Surely, it couldn't feel any better—-
Aaaaah.
A sudden gasp tore out of my throat as the sheikh, having withdrawn almost completely out of me, suddenly plunged back in with ruthless force. It hurt, of course it fucking did, but more than that, however—-
So. Fucking. Good.
The sheikh started shoving in and out of me. Slow and steady at first, then gradually picking up the pace until he was hammering into me, just fucking me really hard and good that my tits were shaking with every thrust, and I felt myself starting to unravel at the sheer pleasure of his possession.
I heard myself start to moan, and the sound had him growling with pleasure.
Too fucking good, dammit.
Just too fucking good, and every second I could feel my control slipping further and further away from me. My hands were all over his body, gripping his hair and clutching his shoulders, and when this wasn't enough, my legs snaked up to wrap around his waist as my fingers dug into the muscled cheeks of his ass.
And throughout it, he just kept pounding into me, his stamina showing no fucking signs of flagging, and just when I thought we had reached our peak, I felt his hand snake between our bodies—-
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck—-
His fingers found my clit, and I moaned and buckled as he began tweaking and pinching the swollen nub.
God, too fucking good, so damn good, that when he raised himself up to kiss me, I was like an eager little puppy as I kissed him back with unrestrained passion.
His fingers on my clit, his cock pounding my pussy...
Just too fucking good, too, too fucking good...
And as much as I wanted it to last—-
It was over the moment I heard him whisper into my ear.
Raj.
My eyes flew open, and oh God, there it was again.
That flash of emotion in his eyes that couldn't possibly be real.
"Make good use of my name, habibti."
And that was it.
His thumb flicked against my clit as his cock sank back into my quivering pussy, and all I could do was sob his name as I started to cum.
Raj.
Raj.
Raj.
See you in twenty.
My favorite cum tank needs refilling.
Message received at 1155h from Asshole.
Chapter Thirteen
His favorite cum tank?
What the fuck did he mean by calling me his favorite cum tank?
Shouldn't I be his only cum—-
Shit.
Fuck.
Wait a goddamn minute.
I was supposed to take offense at his choice of words, dammit, instead of becoming spitting mad at the possibility that he could have another cum tank besides me.
This was all the piece of sheikh's fault, dammit. Once an asshole, always supposed to stay an asshole. That was how it should be with guys like him. He wasn't supposed to fucking change and be disarmingly sweet, like telling me his real name just when I least expected it or surprising me with a bouquet of exotic roses on the dreaded morning after. Of course, he did pre-empt that by waking me up by squeezing my jaw open, and by the time I opened my eyes, his fully aroused dick was already halfway down my throat. Asshole almost had me fucking choking, but when he started tugging my nipples at the same time, and I started getting wet...yeah, well, it didn't seem right to complain when, after cumming in my mouth, he had finger-fucked me into an arousal in thirty seconds flat.
In the three weeks I had been with him, there hadn't been a day that we didn't have sex, and most days, we did it at least thrice. So I guess, when he called me his cum tank, it was kinda accurate, but still. It was a very offensive word, dammit, and I should be—-
Oh, who was I kidding?
I abso-fucking-lutely loved it when he talked dirty, both inside and outside the bedroom, and it was all because this time I knew where the asshole was coming from. I'd accompanied him to several business functions by now, and the damn sheikh hadn't been lying at all about those masks he told me about.
He was like a fucking chameleon with it, and honestly, he had me gaping that first time I attended this la-di-da ball as his date, and I finally saw with my own eyes how he'd slip from one persona to another, depending on who he was talking to or what he wanted to achieve.
When talking to a couple of fresh grads eagerly talking about their tech startup, he had acted like the Arabian version of Ashton Kutcher: smart, friendly, and so relatable with the way he'd casually
use terms like 'FOMO' and 'EPS' in one sentence. But then with a couple of snooty old rich white dudes, he had unleashed the full power of his lip-curling contempt and exposed their stupidity by dismantling their opinion on
the U.S. economy point by fucking point.
One moment he was evil, another moment he was not-so-evil. Just so many masks, really, except for one thing. He had never played the womanizer when I was around, and when I had demanded suspiciously if he did so when he was alone, the asshole had only smirked at me.
You'll just have to stick to my side like glue so the opportunity never arises.
Remembering how he had purred those words made my toes curl, and my body's instant reaction filled me with self-disgust. Hopeless. I was so fucking hopeless, and this had me grabbing my notebook so I could give my forehead a good, hard slap in a fit of frustration.
The sound had several heads in the library turning my way, but I pretended not to notice this. Maybe, if I did this enough times, I'd be able to knock some sense into me and—-
"Stop that, habibti." A tanned hand swiped the notebook out of my hold, and I could only stare in shock as Raj unfolded his length into the chair opposite me with faultlessly lithe grace. He was in another one of his suits as always, and looked so fucking hot that I noticed right away how he had everyone in the library gawking at him.
"Why were you hurting yourself?"
"It's just a stupid notebook."
"You know I alone have the rights to be cruel to you."
And there I was, thinking his concern was rather touching.
"Seriously, sheikh: fuck you."
The sheikh smiled. "That is indeed what I came here for."
My eyes widened.
"But because I'm a gentleman, I'll give you the privilege of choosing where."
"Are you out of your mind?" I hissed under my breath.
"Tick tock, Ms. Teller."
Gaaah.
Was he fucking serious?
"You should take advantage of my generosity while you can."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I contemplated running away from him—-
Nah.
Knowing him, this asshole was just going to make things a thousand times worse for me if I did that.
"Well, habibti?"
Ten minutes later, and we were in the mezzanine of one of the least-used stairways of the university, the sheikh unzipping himself while his other hand was busy pushing my skirt up from the back.
