Sheikh's Fake Fiancee

by Jessica Brooke

  “So you have time to speak with your father but not with me?” she asked, feigning hurt.

  “Mother—”

  “Bahan, you have disappointed me.”

  “We’ve covered that already,” he said. “I’ve disappointed you, disgraced the Munir name and the kingdom. I’ve chosen a Western harlot…”

  “A literal wild woman.”

  “Yes, let’s make fun of her name and abuse all the puns that we can.”

  “I just want you to know that I’m so very disappointed in you.”

  “I know, and I continue to know that. You should at least admit that part of this was Fareed’s idea.”

  “Oh I’ve had words for your brother, too. I just can’t believe you’ve brought such shame already to our kingdom.”

  “Then, Mother, I suggest you adjust to the new normal,” he said through clenched teeth as he rushed out of the conference room and back to Sydney’s room.

  ***

  The ceremony was simple. Part of her had always wanted to have a wedding with the poof princess dress, that silly thing that she’d imagined since she was in high school. Granted, she tried not to be the overly girly type. Ever since her father had left, Jennifer hadn’t been able to afford daydreams or anything else. But like every other woman, she’d imagined her big day with her fiancé as Prince Charming and her as Cinderella. That didn’t seem like too much to ask.

  But this wasn’t a real wedding. Even though Bahan and she had continued to date in the interim, even if he did things to her that made her toes curl on a regular basis, this was all happening too fast. It was for Sydney and for his kingdom. It wasn’t about true love and fairy tales.

  So she grieved a bit over that, even on her big day.

  Her dress was simple, a plain crushed velvet dress in an icy blue. She’d chosen a color that wasn’t white both because she knew the actual sheikha was wearing ivory and didn’t want to compete with royalty, and because this wasn’t for forever. When she got married to her soul mate, she wanted it to be with pure white, to have that bit of tradition left untouched.

  Today, at least, the ceremony had its benefits. She still had the butterflies buzzing in her stomach, especially as she thought about the coming night and the surprise honeymoon that Bahan was promising her. The greatest joy was seeing the light in Sydney’s eyes. Bahan, bless him, had hired a makeup artist and hairstylist just for Sydney, to make her feel like a special part of the festivities, even if she was still relegated to a hospital gown in all its polka-dotted glory. Seeing her smile and coo over the wedding was definitely worth it. In case the surgery didn’t go to plan, in case the kidney didn’t take, then at least they’d all have this memory of the wedding and of Sydney getting to shine as the maid of honor.

  It meant the world to her how caring Bahan was with her little sister, as well as how he’d bent over backwards to try and alleviate her fears as well as her mother’s.

  This was moving all so fast, but she couldn’t ask for a better husband.

  Which made all of this more insane.

  When Bahan and his mother entered the hospital room, and the Imam started in with the chants of the mosque, she couldn’t help but smile. For today it was real, and that had to matter.

  “Hey, usually it’s everyone waiting on pins and needles for the bride,” she joked.

  “Usually, but I don’t do anything like everyone else does. What would be the fun in that?” Bahan said, flashing her a megawatt smile and staring back at her with those intense amber eyes of his.

  His mother’s face grew pinched at the boasting, but she didn’t say anything.

  For that, Jennifer was grateful. The sheikha hadn’t said much to her yet, but she wasn’t dumb. She could tell that Bahan’s mother wasn’t thrilled with the arrangements.

  The Imam started to speak as Bahan took her arm. Over her shoulder, Fareed, her new brother-in-law, translated everything for her, but she didn’t need it. She could feel the importance echoing through the room—the old traditions. Grabbing Bahan’s hand tightly, she repeated back what she had to both in Arabic (pronounced phonetically for her by a patient Fareed) and in English, vowing to be the sheikha he needed at least as long as she could.

  It burned a huge part of her soul, however, that it wasn’t going to be forever.

  Chapter Seven

  “I’ve never seen anything like this!” his wild one exclaimed, grinning broadly at the private jet that would be taking them to Paris.

  He hadn’t told her about it yet, but it would only be for the weekend. If anything changed with Sydney’s health, they could be back in six or seven hours. Still, Bahan had been hesitant to tell her the exact whereabouts, in case Jennifer would argue. As far as she knew, they were going to a mystery destination, and if she assumed it was just a hop to Los Angeles or Chicago, then he wasn’t going to disabuse her of her assumptions. Besides, the sickness had been weighing on her. He wanted to give her a chance to relax, at least for a while. It was also why he’d negotiated quite vociferously with her boss, Kahn, to make sure she had some leave during her family’s trying time. The fact that the ass had been hesitant at first made Bahan’s blood boil. If he could, he’d tell Jennifer that she no longer needed to work, that he’d care for all of her needs as his sheikha.

  She certainly didn’t need to deal with a small-minded jerk like Kahn.

  At least they had this weekend, and he would make her feel everything she deserved.

  He chuckled. “I take it you’ve never been on a private jet.”

  “Well, it’s what I take to Buckingham Palace, of course, to visit the queen, Gov’ner,” she said, dawning a truly terrible accent.

  He laughed as he led her back to the private quarters, to the luxury king bed and expensive, high-thread-count sheets that lay beyond the door. “You aren’t British at all, luv. It’s best that you don’t try and pretend otherwise.”

  “I wanted to try and mimic you just a bit. ‘Oy,’ and all that,” she said, biting her lower lip and looking up at him coquettishly through her lashes.

  “I’m not Cockney and I don’t think the British part is that strong.”

  “Just from all those years at Oxford. I think the hint of it makes you that much sexier,” she said, her long blond hair falling in her face. The eyes that evaluated him, that seemed to be cataloguing his every move, were as blue as the Aegean Sea. It made her that much more of a cunning minx than she already was. “I love the way you talk.”

  “Why thank you,” he said, shutting the door behind him and stripping off his Oxford shirt. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she saw him shirtless. It was quite the ego booster. “What else do you love about me?”

  She grinned and then sat down on the bed. Looking up at him, she licked her lips, just that hint of a pink tongue poking out. Dear Allah, he could imagine all the things she could do to him with that tongue of hers, all the places he’d love to have her taste. Of course, he was a giving lover. There were places on her, so many, that he hadn’t had time to enjoy yet, to lave against. Her nectar was some of the most heavenly ambrosia he’d ever tasted; there was no doubt of that.

  Jennifer crossed one sleek leg over another and ran her fingers over her chest. She’d changed from her wedding dress to a light T-shirt and jeans, something comfortable to wear, and he could already see her nipples pebbling under her own touch, pushing against the thin, white fabric of her tee.

  “Maybe I love the way you smell. Did you know that? That you smell as spicy as you are, that there’s just the tiniest hint of turmeric about you?”

  “Do I?” he asked, setting his hands on her shoulders and kneading them. She mewled under his grasp, even after he undid the tight knots of stress in her back. Even small weddings had their stresses, and it was all the more reason to cater to her all weekend. “I’ve never had anyone tell me that before.”

  She moaned a little. “God, you have magic fingers.”

  He lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “My wild on
e, I have magical everything else.”

  Leaning up from her position on the bed, Jennifer kissed him, her tongue plundering his mouth deeply, tasting every inch of him. When she drew back, she bit at his lower lip, her teeth scraping against the soft flesh there. It was a tantalizing sensation that went straight to his manhood, made it raise firmly to full mast. Oh dear Allah, the things she did to him, the way she drove him mad.

  “I think I know what to do for your ‘everything else,’” she said, licking her lips again. He wanted to feel every part of her tonight, to have every inch of her body pressed up against his in an intimate caress.

  “Do you?” he asked, reaching down to push her hair back from her face. “What do you have planned tonight, Jennifer?”

  His little minx said nothing but reached out and unzipped his pants. Then her hand deftly maneuvered through the hole in his boxers and found his erection. It was already more than hard. She had that effect on him just by her mere presence. Factoring in her eager expression as she sat on the bed and the way she licked those delicate, pink lips…well he was like fucking granite down there.

  Her hand started slowly, a bit tentatively. She shouldn’t have. He already knew that he loved whatever she did to him. If his bride were worried that she couldn’t please him, then it was one of the biggest mistakes that Jennifer could make. Her very presence thrilled him. Then she started to quicken her pace and he helped her along a bit, stripping down to his boxers so that she had the best access to him. As much as it pained him, he stepped away long enough to let the boxers fall to his ankles.

  It left his erection springing completely free, and he loved the way her eyes grew huge and hungry as she stared at his length.

  “My, my,” she cooed. “What a big present you have for me.”

  “Indeed I do, my wild one.”

  She slipped off the bed and onto her knees, clearly no longer in the mood to settle for just stroking his hardness. Jennifer started by giving his member just a few teasing licks. It was as if electricity was prickling through his skin every time she flicked her tongue against his manhood. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, even as he grabbed her long, golden locks.

  “Yes, baby, please don’t stop,” he said, and then Bahan slid into an incoherent mix of moans, English, and Arabic, his brain no longer caring to differentiate between the two. Not when his goddess’s tongue was such a revelation and the electricity was flowing freely through his body, heightening every sense he had. “Fucking yes!”

  Her mouth was wrapped fully around his shaft now, no longer just licking him. Jennifer was giving everything she had to him, sucking him with the right amount of pressure, letting his manhood slide over her tongue and between those soft, pillowy lips of hers. As she did so, her right hand was massaging his testicles, giving him the best damn bit of fellatio he’d ever had.

  Finally, when he felt he could hold it in no more, when the prickles and now the current of electricity spiraling through him had increased until he felt like he’d been struck by lightning, Bahan came, shooting his seed deep inside his lover’s mouth. Jennifer swallowed it all up neatly and wiped at the corners of her mouth, her grin belying that she’d enjoyed herself too, taken pleasure in driving his own.

  “So, I take it you liked it?” she said, laughing as she settled herself back onto the bed.

  “I think you could say that,” he said, stepping into the side bathroom. It was tiny as hell but he was able to clean off a bit. When he slipped into bed beside his wife, he handed her a small towel. She accepted it readily and dabbed at her mouth. “You were excellent.”

  “I’m glad I could serve my sheikh then,” she said, rolling her eyes a bit. “I wasn’t trying to win a contest, Bahan. I just…we only have seventy-two hours before we go back to New York and our crazy lives. I’ll probably now have real-life paparazzi trying to snap pictures of me or some huge news outlet wanting to interview me as an up-and-coming royal.”

  “I like the emphasis on the word coming, myself,” he said, chuckling and then kissing her temple. “I know, and that’s why I’m glad we can have some time to ourselves. Some pleasure…”

  “Exactly! I feel like you deserve it. I mean, I know you’re getting to keep the throne out of the deal, but any woman could have helped you.”

  His nostrils flared and Bahan pushed some of his frustration and temper away. It was mostly at his mother, who had most likely sneaked in harsh words for his bride before their big day. “I did not want just any warm body to fill this slot. Even if it’s for a couple of years.” He worked hard to keep his voice from coming out too mournful.

  Bahan knew exactly who he wanted to be the sheikha by his side, now or a decade from now. There was hardly any woman he’d ever met with more strength, compassion, or familial loyalty. But he didn’t know if Jennifer could ever feel the same way. The last thing he wanted was to put any more pressure on her when her life was already so chaotic.

  “I know, but the sheikh—”

  “Is now you,” he said, steadying her chin with his fingers. “Do you understand that part, my wild one? Whatever Mother blathered on about, however you feel about your coming role, fleeting as it may be, you are the sheikha now. You don’t have to answer to anyone at all.”

  Her blue eyes lit up and she bit her lip, the playfulness seeming to come back into her words. “So if I don’t answer to anyone, does that mean I don’t have to listen to you either, Bahan?”

  “I never said anything quite like that,” he replied, winking at her. “After all, you are my wife and you serve me.”

  “Well, it is the twenty-first century now, and I’ve always been an equal-opportunity woman. I think that if I give you a mind-numbing orgasm, then I’m due one too, and soon.”

  “I suppose that it could be arranged, sheikha,” he said, stroking her cheek. “We’ll get through Sydney’s operation together. And Mother’s controlling ways and whatever the press or even other countries might want.”

  “Wait? So I’d go to a state dinner?”

  “I’d try and avoid that or any duties for you outside of what you need or want until Sydney’s better. Right now, we just focus on your family doing what it needs to to thrive right now. I think the world and the press can wait. It grieves me a bit because I would like you to see Yemen, but it’s not time yet.”

  She frowned back at him. “That’s kind of good in a way. I was worried that we were going to be sneaking a trip to the Middle East in. I didn’t want to leave the country.”

  He laughed, letting it grow to a low rumble in his chest, even as he buried his nose in her hair, reveling in the scent of her, that sweet hint of freesia. “I didn’t say that, my love.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “I…where are we going?”

  “The City of Lights, or Paris, whichever moniker you prefer. We’ll be home by Tuesday morning and you know the best doctors in the world plus your mother are there. Sydney will be fine for a few days without you, I promise.”

  She sighed and snuggled into him, her earlier lust seemingly burned out. “I hope so. I just…I’m not sure how I can really let myself go, knowing my baby sister is in some hospital an ocean away.”

  “We’ll talk about that in the morning,” he said, sensing that his bride needed rest. The day’s events—all of them—had been too much for her. “Now,” he said, kissing those soft lips once more. “Get rest, Jennifer, and I’ll show you the city as you’ve never seen it before.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jennifer felt if she were on autopilot at the hotel. She’d slept well, which surprised her. Since the revelation of Sydney’s diagnosis, it felt like she’d only caught cat naps here and there. Getting through the day on coffee and the occasional energy drink, as well as through bleary eyes, had become her new normal. So to be fully comfortable and content while curled up in Bahan’s strong arms had been a revelation. They’d been intimate in small ways before but had never hit a home run, as Rose might have put it with her Jersey leanings.


  He’d also never spent the night with her. She felt like with her sister’s health teetering, she couldn’t afford to be away from her apartment or the hospital for too long. She just hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of sleeping a full night with her lover.

  Husband.

  That word struck her across the center of her chest as surely as if she’d been hit by a two-by-four. It felt so serious, so heavy. Yes, they’d annul eventually, and this was a marriage of convenience for both of them—a business deal. Yet, she’d never been married before, and for right now, Bahan wasn’t just her lover or the man she cared about. Under both US and Yemeni law, he was her husband, and that was a huge and consuming thing.

  But he seemed to also be the only one who could calm her. She hadn’t slept like this since she’d heard the doctor calmly rattle off Syd’s diagnosis. That had to mean something, right?

  She’d been dating for over ten years, through high school and college, and even considered marriage with Dustin. At least until that damn cocktail waitress who one of his business associates finally came clean to her about. It was never a good idea to have any lover or fiancé or anyone else who traveled too much. It led to…temptation, to put it mildly. But she’d always thought it would take time. You’d date for a year, really get to know each other, then you’d commit based on the pros and cons of an alliance. It would be methodical.

  You couldn’t possibly be swept up in a swirl of passion after only knowing each other for a few hours at a club or after a date or two.

  And yet, Bahan could calm her fears, give her a sense of safety and security that she’d never known before. It had to mean something. Her head was spinning as she finished unpacking.

  She also couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in the pit of her chest, this pure panic that it was wrong for her to even have this weekend, either. But Bahan was being a gentleman, giving her space to shake the jet lag out of her eyes as well as to collect herself. Jennifer appreciated that. God, she loved so much about him already. It all just seemed far too fast.