Sheikh's Command

by Sophia Lynn

  “So beautiful,” he said, and there was still a tremor there. The powerful sheikh might have wanted to hold himself aloof, but she could tell that there was a limit to how much he could do so when he wanted her so much.

  He began to touch her, running his hands down her body, down her sides, up her back, through the long strands of her hair. Wherever he touched, Olivia could feel herself tingle, her skin remembering all too clearly the pleasure she took in his body. When she reached to touch him, however, he pressed her hands down to her sides.

  “I want to touch you,” she whispered, but he ignored her.

  Instead he focused on tantalizing her, tracing invisible patterns on the skin of her bare thighs. When he pressed them apart, she thought he would take her then, but his fingertips only trailed up closer to her most secret flesh before skimming away.

  “You feel good, so good,” Olivia murmured. She knew that she was opening herself up to his mockery, but he only hummed with pleasure.

  “I want you to feel good,” he replied, and for a moment, she could pretend that this was something other than what it was.

  He stepped between her knees to kiss her. This time, it was slow and deliberate, something full of need and desire, but which had all the patience in the world. When he pressed his tongue between her lips, she opened for him, hot with need. He gasped when she suckled on his tongue boldly. She felt the tremor go through him, and she knew that he was far more affected than he was willing to let on.

  Olivia realized, in a distant way, that she had power over him, just as he had power over her. She twined her arms around his neck, and in some ways, it was a gesture as defiant as rearing back to punch him. It told them both that she was no willing puppet, ready to sell herself for the right price. She was a woman acting out of desire, and that meant that she would take him just as he would take her.

  “I want you, so much,” she whispered, and those words made him shudder in earnest, so she repeated them. She had never been one for dirty talk, but now, with this man, she wanted nothing more than to tell him how she needed him and what he made her feel.

  “I want to feel your hands on me, I want to feel how hard and hot you are,” Olivia murmured, ignoring the red blush that flared up on her cheeks. “I want you to fill me up, and I want you to push me past anything that I have ever—”

  “That is enough,” he growled, and she stopped, not out of fear, but out of concern for the ragged edge to his voice.

  This is hurting him too, Olivia thought, and she would have done anything if she could have spared them both this terrible thing. Instead, she had set her course, and she knew that she had to see it through.

  He took her chin between two fingers, bringing her face up to look at him.

  “Stop talking,” he said. “I don't want to hear any words out of you …”

  He brushed the back of his hand over the taut tips of her breasts, making her gasp out loud. Still, she held herself from speaking, and he smiled cynically.

  “Good …”

  His kiss overwhelmed her, sweeping her up before setting all of her nerves aflame. There was something about him that was done playing, and when she felt the press of his body against hers, she felt his aching hardness against her thigh. He couldn't wait much longer. She knew that she couldn't either.

  With an abrupt movement, he pulled her off the desk only to turn around. One hand between her shoulder blades he pushed her down until she was looking at her own expression in the polished wood of the desk. Her eyes looked enormous in her face, her mouth as red as if she had painted it. When he pressed one foot between hers to make her spread herself open, her mouth opened in a red O.

  “So goddamn beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself. “The most perfect woman I have ever had, the only one I have truly wanted …”

  She started to turn her head to look at him, but his hand tangled in her hair, holding her down.

  “I'll make this good for you,” he whispered. “God above, I want this to be good for you …”

  She bit her lip, not understanding what he meant until he brushed his hand up her thigh. His fingers probed at her wet entrance, sinking one finger into her and then another one as she sighed. In a matter of breaths, he was pumping his fingers into her slowly and surely as he worked her clit with his free hand.

  The pleasure he was forcing on her raised her up higher and higher until she reached her peak. Her climax, so long in coming, roared out of her, leaving her spent and sobbing on the desk, but he didn't stop then. Instead, his hands kept working, and he was half bent over her as well, his warm body pressed against hers. He was speaking to her in some combination of Arabic and English, and she knew that he was telling her how beautiful she was and how much he wanted her, telling her he wanted her pleasure more than anything else in the world.

  Her body rocked again and again. She couldn't tell where one climax ended and the other began. It was a continuous string of pleasure that he drew from her with only his touch and his words, and it wasn't until she had collapsed boneless on his desk that he pulled away.

  For a moment, Olivia had a horrified idea that he would leave her there, her humiliation complete. Then, to her relief, she heard him open his clothes, heard the tear of a foil packet, and his soft sigh as he sheathed himself.

  Without a word, he stepped forward and pressed himself deep into her. He knew her body like he knew his own, and now he used that knowledge, pressing all the way into her in the way he knew she liked. She wanted more than anything to press herself back against him, but her position pinned on the desk gave her no leverage, no ability to move at all. Instead, she simply had to squirm and moan as he pushed into her over and over again, taking his pleasure with her body.

  To Olivia's shock, she could feel her desire rising up again. After what he had put her through, she had thought that she would simply be too exhausted to move, let alone respond again, but something about his body called to her own, like the moon to the sea. As his motions sped up, her body started to rock back against him. She could feel his surprise, but in that moment, all she cared about was how their bodies worked together, bringing them into a harmony that their hearts simply could not sustain.

  Perfect, so perfect, she thought, her emotions whipping up to a frenzy just as her body did. This was the man she wanted. This was the one who belonged to her, and after this, they might never speak to one another again. She couldn't understand it. The pain was simply too great. Instead, she focused on finding forever in their motions together, feeling the way he pressed into her, the way his hands closed on her hips with a strength just short of pain.

  He quickened his thrusts, and she heard his deep growls of pleasure. Her own body tightened up, and then, almost to her shock, she was coming again, screaming into her hands as the sensations cascaded over her. In almost the same movement, he thrust into her savagely, holding her brutally still as he came to his own peak. For a moment, their cries mingled together in the still office air, echoing one another in a pleasure that seemed to go on and on.

  When they were still, there was something terrible about it. She could feel tears in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She knew why she was here and what she was doing, and she felt as if her heart was going to break.

  With a soft sigh, he pulled away. Olivia was still for a moment, and then, moving as if she was in pain, she pushed herself off the desk to land on her own two feet. She turned to see Makeen doing up his clothing as if nothing had happened at all.

  She almost expected him to tell her to get out, but instead of doing that, he removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dampened it with a bottle of water he had on his desk. To her surprise, he started to clean her, starting with the seat on her body before finally dipping down between her legs. She squawked with embarrassment, but he shushed her absently, holding her still until he was done. When he stepped back, she reached for her clothes, which he had dropped off to the side.

  Despite everything that they had d
one together, Olivia felt exposed now, more naked than she had been when she was bent moaning and writhing on the desk. She could hear her heart too clearly, the same way she could feel his eyes on her.

  “What happens now?” she asked, her voice soft and dull.

  He was silent so long that she nearly started to cry. She was on the verge of turning to him, begging him for … for what, she didn't even know. All she knew was that he was a man of honor, of his word, but right now, she had no idea where she stood in that regard.

  “I call the investigators. I tell them to release your brother. In the morning, we get on a plane to return to Zahar, and we never speak to each other again.”

  She had expected no better, but she still flinched. “Makeen …”

  The sound he made was more animal than man, a terrible growl that made her think of beasts that hunted in the mountains, hungry and lean.

  “No. Do not. Do not speak with me as if you loved me, as if I were some pet that you could train to do your bidding. I have had enough of that. I am sick of it, and I am sick of your presence. Go to your room. Wait for the plane tomorrow. These are the last words that we will speak to one another.”

  At last defeated, tears in her eyes, she fled back to her own bedroom. She felt as if she had been scalded. Pain filled her being, and she could barely think.

  In her despair, she reached for the one thing that had always been there. Olivia's hands were shaking, but still she could undo the clasps on her violin case. Once she had her hands on the polished wood and familiar bow, she felt a calm settle over her. With motions of exaggerated calmness, she tuned her instrument and she started to play.

  The wild music that poured out of her that night was like nothing she had ever produced before. It was fast, jagged, just barely melodic, but somehow it carried her feelings of pain out of her body, giving her some kind of rest.

  She didn't know how long she played, but when she finally collapsed, her fingers ached and her entire body felt as if it had been drained of everything. She knew that the pain would be back. She knew that when it returned, it would be terrible. Right now, however, she was too exhausted to do anything but lie down, and sleep.

  ***

  Makeen thought that he would be all right until she started to play. The first notes began tearing his heart out, and the ones after that made him feel as if he were being racked over coals.

  It didn't matter what they had done to each other, or what she really wanted from him. In that moment, listening to her music, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was in pain. She was releasing it in the only way that she knew how, and it was all he could do not to go to her.

  Suddenly Makeen wanted nothing more than to have her in his arms. He wanted to soothe that pain away, and in doing so, soothe the pain that was rending him to shreds as well. He wanted to pull her away from everything, take them to a place where there was no such thing as honor or loyalty, where they could simply be together.

  He had been the Sheikh for a good portion of his life, however, and he knew that there was no place like that on earth.

  Instead he went to the cabinet in his study, pulling out a bottle of amber colored liquid. He splashed a generous amount into a glass, and he drank it in one swallow. It burned going down, but it was better, far better, than what he was feeling just now.

  He stood in the darkness, listening to the music of Olivia's pain, and he wondered when in his life he would ever overcome this.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A week later, Olivia waited in front of the Zahar courthouse. She wasn't sure why she had dressed up, only that she had felt it was necessary.

  “Smile, it's a happy occasion,” her mother said, but Olivia couldn't do more than make a half-hearted grimace.

  “Don't be so sour because you lost a honey pot,” Mayellen growled. “They have an expiration date. They all do.”

  She wished that she had the energy to shout at her mother. She wished she could find it in herself to scream and cry and find a way to make her mother understand exactly what had happened to her, but what was the point? It wouldn't change anything. She wouldn't find a way to make Makeen look at her as if she were truly his love again. She wouldn't be in his arms again.

  There was a commotion at the top of the stairs, and then a number of people started streaming out. She stood on tiptoes, scanning the crowd until she saw a familiar lanky figure coming through the throng of people.

  “There he is!”

  Her mother bulled in front of her, taking David in her arms, loudly thanking God and all his angels for his safe return. Even as David comforted their mother, his eyes met Olivia's, and there was a sadness and understanding there that made tears prickle at her eyes.

  She blinked fiercely to clear them away. She hadn't cried since she left the mountains, and she sure as hell wasn't planning to start now.

  Gently, David disentangled himself from their mother, reaching for Olivia. For a moment, she felt a fiery pang of anger, something that took her breath away with its intensity. She had never felt that towards her brother before. They had always been allies, always had each other's backs. This time, however, it felt as if he had taken something from her that she could never get back.

  Finally though, she allowed herself to be folded gently into his embrace, and then some tears did come. While her mother was chivvying her for being overemotional, David laid a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

  “Bad times, huh sis?”

  “You don't even know,” she said with a sigh. “Come on. Let's get home. There's nothing else for us here.”

  ***

  Within a matter of days, it felt as if nothing had changed. She went back to busking on the street corners. Her brother was home and looking for a legitimate job. In her absence, she had received a response from Berlin, telling her that she was on the short list, and should stand by.

  Something that would have sent her into ecstasy before was now merely a dull note in her life. She would go if they accepted her, there was no doubt about that, but there was no joy in it.

  “Your music's different now,” David said, after watching her busk one afternoon.

  “Is it?” asked Olivia. In another world, perhaps she would have been alarmed by that, but right now, all she could do was be mildly curious.

  “It's deeper. Slower. Sadder, maybe, even when you are playing lighter, faster things.”

  She could believe it. After Makeen walked away from her on the tarmac, never looking back, she had felt something in herself close off. Olivia had no idea if it was permanent, or if she would ever be able to get that part of herself back. At the moment, she didn't even care.

  Olivia had an idea of how her life might move forward. She might get into a professional orchestra, or she might simply scrape by as she had been doing. She thought she would eventually pull away from her family, strike out on her own.

  At the moment, the thought brought her nothing at all, so she simply existed. She earned money, she talked with her brother, and in her more lucid moments, Olivia was worrried that she might be like this forever.

  ***

  One day, Olivia came home to find her parents packing frantically and her brother on the phone, talking with low hushed tones.

  For the first time in what felt like weeks, she felt a spark of panic.

  “What's happening? What's going on?”

  Her mother spared her a look as she shoved clothes into an old duffle bag. “It's Stavros, who used to employ your brother. He's been on the war path since the raid, and now he's bringing it all to bear. Your brother got off not once, but twice, so of course that means he's a snitch.”

  Mayellen glared at Olivia, and in that moment, Olivia could feel any bonds connecting her to the woman falling away. Instead, she turned to her brother, who had just hung up his phone, his face pale.

  “David? David, what's going on?”

  David's face was pale, but composed. “You heard the bulk of it from Mom. If Stavros catches me on
the street, he's going to have me executed. I need to get out of the country and fast, but Sis, step into the hall with me. There's something I need to tell you.”

  Mystified, still holding her violin, she followed him. In the airless stairwell of the building, her brother turned to her.

  “I am so sorry for everything. I … I heard about what you did for me …”

  She started to hold her hands up, because she didn't think that she could bear this, but he forged ahead.

  “No, listen to me. I haven't asked you about this because … well, because it is private. It's your story, and you would have come to me if you needed something. But I think that one way or another, you need to know this.

  “Stavros is a fucking madman, and he wants everyone who blew his organization dead from top to bottom. He's sending a man out to kill the Sheikh. That's the man you were staying with right?”

  Olivia felt a cold claw of fear grasp her heart. Her eyes widened. “They're sending someone to kill Makeen?”

  “Yes. Tonight, as he enters the art gallery showing. I'm risking my life just telling you this. Olivia … I don't care what you do with this information, but I need to get out of Zahar with Mom and Dad …”

  She was already nodding. She set down her violin case long enough to throw her arms around him.

  “I'm not sorry for anything I've done for you,” she whispered fiercely. “I love you.”

  He held her for a moment, and she was painfully aware that this might be the last time that either of them said anything to each other. The last time she ever saw her brother.

  Then he was gone, and she had a decision to make.

  She didn't even hesitate. When David disappeared, she plunged down the stairwell, leaping down the last few steps to hit the ground running.

  She didn't know what was going to happen tonight, but she knew that she would never forgive herself if she didn't do something.