Bad Sheikh's Pregnant Mistress

by Ella Brooke

  “You have to be careful, kitten. I’m going to take you to the heights of pleasure, but you have to keep yourself upright. That’s what matters.”

  “But you’re…unh,” she mumbled, coherent thought leaving her.

  “Just try not to fall,” he reminded her as he helped her settle against the wall. “This is going to get intense, I promise,” he said, running his finger up the inseam of her right thigh.

  Her core throbbed and she felt the wetness pool between her legs, inspired by his ministrations so far. Then Cemal was done with the foreplay and the talking. Large, callused hands parted her most secret lips and he grazed his thumb over her pearl. Juliana shuddered, feeling the first bubbles of pleasure escaping from her belly, sliding up from her inner channel to please her.

  Then his mouth suckled over her rosebud, his lips massaging her aroused bundle of nerves. Closing her eyes, Juliana let the ecstasy sweep over her in wave after wave, even as she struggled to stay on her feet. It felt like Cemal was everywhere, his tongue lapping at her juices, his fingers now entering her channel and plunging into her depths. Even the rugged, masculine scent of him was swirling all around her. Juliana mewled, an animalistic noise she could barely recognize escaping from her own throat.

  Maybe she was his kitten after all.

  Then Cemal intensified his rhythm, his tongue flicking in a merciless tattoo over her pearl. She came then, the waves of pleasure finally evolving into a tsunami of sensation that left her thinking nothing at all, just breathing and taking in all the feelings flowing through her. After what felt like eternity, she had feeling back in her knees and was able to stand on her own. It was then that Cemal stood and kissed her forehead.

  “You should be treated like that every day, like the queen you are.”

  She was beginning to agree with him.

  Chapter Seven

  Even if the day out at the races broke through some of her walls, Juliana hadn’t committed to going any further with Cemal than very spirited make-out sessions and, well, a bit more. She was beginning to love tasting him as much as she craved being tasted by him. Yet, the work on the smart-house code was coming to an end. She had a couple days left, including a day devoted to double-checking the hardware one last time. Soon she’d be going back to California, but it was getting harder to tell herself that it was all going to be about a one-time vacation fling. She’d always cared for Cemal. He’d been her first love, and now he was feeling like her first real passion all over again.

  She wasn’t sure she could go back to California.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  It was with the confusion swirling heavily through her mind that she dialed up her mother on Skype. She’d promised to keep in touch with her family, to let them know she was okay, even if Jordan was a safer territory by far than many of its Arabian neighbors. Still, in the last few days, she’d been lost in code during the day, followed by long nights of forbidden pleasure with Cemal. Outside of a daily e-mail to keep her mother and her sister’s fears at bay, she really hadn’t talked to them.

  Mostly, she hadn’t wanted to.

  She needed to know what they might think about her new conundrum, how they’d really feel now that “Robbie” was no longer a teen who smoked in the boys’ room or rode a motorcycle. Now that he was really Cemal and the leader of a fine, noble nation. Maybe they’d understand that he was no more a seventeen-year-old punk kid than she was a sophomore scared of her own shadow.

  Maybe.

  The image of her mother buzzed to life in front of her. She smiled back at her mom’s large, bouffant hairdo, something that would have looked down home at any country club in Texas or, conversely, in a production of the musical Hairspray. Many things changed, but Colette Caine was as reliable and stalwart as a sea wall.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said, pulling nervously at her fingernails.

  “Darling, you look skinnier than usual. Maybe we should send you out to the Middle East more often, get you into a size men actually like.”

  She stiffened at yet another reminder that her former ballerina mother couldn’t understand her struggles with her extra pounds. Colette had never been over a size eight in her life. If only Juliana had inherited that special set of genes. Then they might understand each other better.

  “Well, I’ve been working really hard.”

  “Still, it looks great on you. I thought you were doing coding there, sweetheart.”

  Juliana frowned and looked down at her arms as a reflex. “I am? That’s why I’m at my computer. I was running some diagnostics in the other window, and that’s why I decided to catch up. Working here has taken a lot more time than I thought.”

  Her mother said nothing at first, a rare moment of quiet from her, before she nodded. “But at least you e-mailed each day in order to let us know you hadn’t been kidnapped by jihadists.”

  “Mother! That’s not at all what Jordan is like.”

  “Well, no. I know it’s not one of those countries.”

  Juliana refrained from yelling back at her mother, from asking her if she knew how awful her condescension sounded. But she wanted this to be a quick enough check-in that she could still work on her tasks for the day. If she got her mother going, railing against “those people,” then Juliana could be here for hours.

  “I’ve been working hard. The code was more snarled in the beta software than I thought. I think parts of the hardware have been fried by the heat here too, but I won’t know till I do some testing on that tomorrow.”

  “Yet you look like you’ve gotten some sun,” she said, her voice measured.

  “Well, I don’t stay locked up in the dungeon all the time, Mother,” Juliana said, her voice tight.

  It was hard not to feel like she was fourteen again, like her mother was galloping all over her. Somehow, Colette Caine would always be that tall, Texas beauty queen, and Juliana would be about three feet tall and hiding in her shadow. It was a feeling she was used to, but that gnawing insecurity hadn’t been plaguing her as the week with Cemal had worn on. He’d made her feel accepted. No. It was more than that. She was still trying to find her way with him, but the sheikh was leaving her worshipped, making her feel like a queen before her court.

  She adored that.

  It had been so long since someone had treated her well, especially after Phillip.

  Her mother furrowed her brows back at her, and Juliana wondered if her mother realized how pinched that motion made her face look. She could feel it coming now. Colette was many things, but foolish and easy to snow weren’t two of them.

  “So what have you been doing when you’re not coding? Tell me you’ve been swimming or exercising more. I assume that’s why you’re looking so well and tan.”

  “The sun can blister a bit here. I swear, I’m living by my fifty sunscreen. But sometimes Sheikh Cemal comes up with excursions for me after a day of stressful work. In fact—”

  “Honey, you’re not doing anything, well, immoral with him, are you?”

  Juliana felt her cheeks flare red and hoped that her mother wouldn’t notice through the less-than-perfect camera of her computer. Of course, she’d been doing a lot of things—not everything, but a lot of things that would make her mother furious. She didn’t want to confess any of that. All she’d wanted was to try and explain how Robbie had matured and the man he’d become, this Sheikh Cemal, was a great man and a good match for her.

  “Sometimes we have fun. We went to a camel race and he’s taken me out to dinner. He said he had something planned for tonight, but he’s very mysterious and tight-lipped about things. So I don’t know exactly what he has planned, no.”

  “You’re smiling.”

  “And that’s not a capital crime, Mother,” she said, her voice becoming clipped.

  “But you haven’t smiled like this since the first year or so dating Phillip. You can’t possibly be nursing a crush on the sheikh. That’s insane!”

  “And why is it?” Juliana asked. Even if h
er mother didn’t know yet that Robbie from high school was truly Sheikh Cemal Samara, was it that impossible that someone as suave as a sheikh could be interested in her?

  “Well, for one thing, I assume that he has the ability to date any woman.”

  “You mean a thinner or more glamorous woman?”

  “Maybe, but also someone who’s like him.”

  “So I’m the infidel?”

  “Or he is,” her mother said, a frown marring her normally pretty features. “You can’t seriously be swayed by a few pretty words and some nights on the town. He’s not like us. Do you think your father or I want you to get involved with some sheikh? He probably has a harem and will throw you to the curb in a matter of weeks. If you thought it was bad with Phillip, then this humiliation will be international. You’d be National Enquirer bait.”

  She rolled her eyes, surprised at her ability to stay calm at all. Why she thought she could ever talk to her mother, like there might ever be a hope that she could convince her that Cemal was so good, Juliana didn’t know.

  Nothing she’d ever wanted had pleased her mother.

  After all, until Facebook came out, her mother just assumed that her interest in computers was a fad. Now, she just asked Juliana when she was going to create the next billion-dollar app instead of being a flunky at Simco.

  “There’s no harem here.”

  She figured now was not the time to explain that his father’s old lovers were semi-retired and living in a wing. Still, she wasn’t just another notch on Cemal’s belt; that much Juliana was certain of.

  “Still, he’s not like us. It was bad enough when your sister didn’t marry a Baptist. You think you’re going to bring home a sheikh—if you’re not some passing fancy—and I’m going to smile? What about the grandkids!”

  “Mother!” she shrieked back. “We’re hardly at that stage yet.”

  “It’s true. You think I’m going to have grandbabies be raised the wrong way and go to hell? Because I’m not.”

  “Maybe if you weren’t still stuck in the Deep South from sixty years ago, you’d understand more. Maybe if you actually weren’t a fucking time capsule, you’d get that there’s more out there.”

  “If you even think that I’ll welcome someone with open arms who wears a turban—”

  “That’s not even accurate!”

  “Whatever! Then you’re smoking something over in Jordan too. I’m not. So try not to embarrass yourself while you’re over there. You’re just upset over Phillip. You know he called the other day. He’s so sorry about what happened.”

  “I doubt he can be sorry about that, not when he was clearly doing Candy for months and months. That’s not exactly a one-time accident,” Juliana huffed.

  “But he’s sorry, and he’s such a good Christian boy.”

  “Yes, such a good one that he really loves adultery,” Juliana said, but her defenses were weakening a bit. Phillip had been a huge part of her life for so long. He’d hurt her, stabbed through her heart, but if he missed her…

  “Look, Mom, I have to go. Cemal will be in here soon and I just can’t.”

  “Don’t disgrace our family, Juliana Lynn. You know better than that. I don’t want you ending up with some damn infidel, so don’t even think of doing things with him. God, you’ll give me and your father a heart attack,” her mother said, as she clicked off her end of Skype.

  She sighed and rubbed at her temples, feeling a possible migraine coming on. Her stomach was gurgling, and she felt for a while as if she might vomit, especially as the acidy bile worked its way up her throat.

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Kitten, are you alright?” Cemal asked, his voice a kind and soothing purr.

  He stood in the doorway and was a revelation in only tuxedo pants. Apparently, he was only half dressed for whatever he’d planned for the night.

  She didn’t mind.

  The rays of the sun filtered through the massive windows of the palace and spilled over his torso. His deep olive skin, paler than she’d have thought but probably a throwback to his French grandmother, seemed to simmer and glow in the light. Unconsciously, she licked her lips as she moved her eyes down his strong, broad shoulders. They lead down to his pronounced pecks, rippling muscles, and the perfection of his eight-pack abs. All of this led to a tantalizing trail of dark hair that started under his belly button and promised so much more under the waistband of his pants.

  Oh, how she wished things were simple. How she wished that she could be back to yesterday when they’d been laying lazily in bed after a long session of lovemaking and with his erection firm and salty in her mouth.

  But now things were different, and reality was crashing back on her.

  Her family would never accept him even as just a sheikh, let alone as the so-called “bad boy” who had almost ruined her reputation years ago. She’d been nuts to think that she could have broached the subject with her mother. Yet, she just wanted everything to work out. Of course, Juliana knew better than anyone that when it came to romance, nothing ever worked out for her.

  “I…” she stumbled, not sure what to say. “I just was on Skype.”

  “You seem upset,” he said, surging across the room. He leaned over to her and hugged her tightly. “Was it your boss or is your family not doing well?”

  “It was foolish,” she said.

  He kissed her temple and smiled for her, his look enough to reduce any woman to a pile on the floor. Normally, she’d be at that stage herself, but after everything with her mother, she wasn’t feeling up to any surprises or any fancy gatherings. Judging by his intended outfit, Juliana guessed that Cemal had something big planned.

  “If it bothered you, kitten, then it wasn’t just ‘nothing,’” he concluded as he stepped back and then clapped his hands in a staccato rhythm.

  Yasmeena appeared through the doorway. In one hand was a huge statement necklace with huge rubies and sapphires that shimmered endlessly under the ochre daze of the setting sun. In the other, the old harem mistress held up a floor-length cocktail dress in a deep, Egyptian blue that sparkled as brightly as the lavalier.

  “My sheikh, you need to finish getting ready as well. I don’t have much time if I’m going to help Ms. Caine prepare for the opera.”

  Her eyes grew wide. Forget feeling down and not being in the mood to put on a happy face for Cemal, but the very last thing on Earth she was ready for was large women in Viking hats. Oh and the noise they could belt out. She’d always been more of a Broadway girl.

  “Oh, I don’t think I’m up to that tonight. I have a huge hardware check tomorrow once the coding is finished with its final reviews.”

  Yasmeena said nothing but set the surely heavy jewelry and dress on the bed and slipped back out of the door to join the rest of the harem in the less private section of their wing. Juliana had to admire that. The crafty old servant definitely knew when the winds were changing and a fight was brewing. It was wise of her to scurry off; Juliana wished she could join her.

  Cemal said nothing at first but paced the floor, resembling a restless jungle cat before her. She watched, transfixed, as his muscles bunched easily and released under his skin. Every inch of the sheikh was coiled and strong, ready for a fight. Juliana knew from the race that had gone wrong that he would use his strength and speed to protect her. But she wasn’t running from angry thugs running camel bets. No, she was trying to run from all the expectations she’d never risen to in her entire life.

  Finally, he stilled and ran his hand through his hair. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just…I’m going home to California in a few days. I don’t have much left to fix, and your smart-house security is already doing better.”

  “But you were more than eager this morning. I practically had to chase you out of my room in order to get you started back to work. I don’t know what could have changed in ten hours for you to be so skittish.”

  “It’s nothing, but we know this has an expiration date, d
on’t we?”

  “Excuse me?” he asked, his amber eyes narrowing at her. “When did we decide anything of the sort?”

  She stood and shook her head and then placed her hands on her hips. He was so much taller than she now that Juliana had to crane her neck up to look at him, but she did it, wishing that she wasn’t so swayed by him and his presence.

  “Because I have a life in Palo Alto. I have a job and a career that I’ve trained hard for my entire life.”

  “I can provide for you. You’d live like the queen you are!”

  She rolled her eyes. Her own drama aside, who did he think he was? Like she was just going to give up everything she’d done for about fifteen years to be a kept princess in a castle. That didn’t even make sense. Why? Because they’d had a teenage fling? Because he made her feel good now?

  Those things did count for something and, with time, if she could muster the courage, it could grow to something amazing, but she wasn’t going to abandon everything she’d ever done or would do to sit in a palace. At least not yet. She hadn’t even had the full shot to strike out on her own, create her own company. He just assumed she’d be the June Cleaver to his kingdom in another three or four days.

  Rushing much?

  “But I have a responsibility to Simco Systems. I do care about you.”

  “You love me,” he countered.

  “I care about you, and when I was fifteen, you were my world, but I’m not a teenager anymore, Cemal. I can’t leave everything I’ve ever had to be here just like that. Something like that takes time and planning.”

  “Not everything in life requires careful and constant deliberation.”

  “Something as big as moving across the planet does need that. I can’t just be spontaneous. I’ve dallied more than I should have with work anyway, and now I’m a few days behind.”