by Marian Tee
Oh for the love of Allah, why was he here?
One moment Anisah was happily alone in the observatory, busy scribbling her notes, but then the next moment he was suddenly there, and the resplendently rare sight of the sheikh dressed in a formal white robe had her scrambling off her chair with a gasp. “Sheikh!”
“Maehdina, anisdi.” The sheikh’s tone was polite, but the gleam in his gaze was mocking. “Did I startle you?”
Of course he did, and the infernal man knew it. Pasting a smile on her face even as she bristled inside, she asked, “May I be of service to you, Your Highness?”
“You may.”
Anisah’s toes curled involuntarily inside her shoes. Curse him. Just two words, and he had somehow made her offer sound positively indecent.
“I would like to request the honor of dancing with you, anisdi.”
Anisah didn’t even hesitate, saying politely, “I beg your forgiveness, alshaykh, but I am currently on duty.”
“Is that so?”
“Nem, alshaykh.” Yes, sheikh.
Like hell she was, Tarif thought in amusement. Since he had a copy of her work schedule for the entire year, he knew she was lying, and strangely enough, he found this endearing…and arousing. Taking a step closer towards her, he asked cajolingly, “Surely you can spare a few minutes for a dance?”
“I truly beg your forgiveness, Your Highness---”
The sheikh’s eyes gleamed at the way she took a step back as she spoke.
“But it is also because I would rather not risk causing you dishonor.”
Now that was new, Tarif thought, and dealing Anisah a curious glance, he asked, “In what way do you believe you will dishonor me?”
Where did he want her to start, Anisah wondered exasperatedly. She was neither a princess nor an heiress, was neither exceptionally beautiful nor famous for anything, and most importantly of all, she wasn’t even dressed for the ball.
Making a gesture towards her serviceable-looking robe, which she had so donned because she had only a night of observation ahead of her, Anisah said emphatically, “Please consider what I’m wearing, Your Highness. It would not be appropriate for you to be seen with someone dressed---”
The sheikh interrupted her with a rather unexpectedly inelegant snort. “And you think I would care about something like that?”
“It would be ideal if you would, Your Highness,” she said seriously. “Dressing up for a ball such as this isn’t only about one’s physical appearance but a matter of showing your respect for the king and queen. It is your duty, sheikh, to uphold the standards of the royal family in every way, and this definitely includes ensuring one is suitably attired at all times, most importantly on occasions where the ruling family is expected to present a show of solidarity to the world.”
Silence.
And then---
“And here I thought you were just fishing for compliments,” Tarif said silkily. “Instead, I find myself lectured by the court tutor about social etiquette.”
Oh! Anisah colored furiously at the realization she had overstepped her bounds. Bowing her head, she apologized stiffly, “I am terribly sorry, Your Highness.”
“How sorry are you?”
The sheikh’s calm tone only made her feel worse about getting carried away, and she bowed her head in apology, saying, “Very much so, Your Highness.”
“Sorry enough to dance with me?” Her head jerked up, and a look of comprehension dawned on Anisah’s lovely face, and she finally realized he had only been pretending to feel offended. She scowled, and he grinned, asking, “So how about it then, anisdi? Will you dance with me?” He offered his hand and almost howled with laughter when Anisah gazed at it with visible distaste.
This, too, was as strangely endearing as it was unquestionably arousing, and if he had any doubts of how much he wanted this woman in his bed – he had none of it now. Poor sweet puritan, Tarif thought in amusement. It was clear that Anisah believed her constant rejection and troublesome ways would eventually turn him away for good, but it only achieved the opposite.
Her every resistance only further whetted his appetite for her, and unfortunately for her, it also made him more impatient to have her.
“One dance, Tory.”
Anisah blinked at the way the sheikh had addressed her, and she asked blankly, “Tory?
“Nem. Tory.”
“My name is Anisah---”
“And your second name is Victoria, is it not?”
Oh! Her lips pursed as she struggled under a turbulent mix of annoyance and embarrassment. “It is not proper to have you address me so, sheikh.”
“A nickname is not proper?”
“It is not when it implies intimacy where there is none---”
“Yet.”
Violet eyes flashed at him in mute exasperation. “Your Highness!”
Tarif knew she was waiting for him to apologize – as was the proper thing to do – but the angry look on her face only made him lust for her even more. Ah, my sweet. He could only imagine how glorious it would feel to have wonderful angry sex with this woman.
The air in the room suddenly throbbed with tension as Anisah unintentionally caught the flash of desire in his eyes.
Oh, may the stars save her.
The things that look promised ---
Such unspeakably crude things…
Such dirty, dirty things…
Things that shouldn’t make her body ache just by the thought of them, but curse the man, it did.
Chapter Three
The sheikh took a prowling step forward, but this time Anisah forced herself to stay still. Something told her that things would only get painfully worse if he realized how nervous he was making her.
“How about a compromise, anisdi…”
Anisah’s toes curled anew at the velvety rasp of the sheikh’s voice
“I promise not to call you Tory for the rest of the night…”
Aaah. Even his voice was a temptation in itself, like sin coated in dark chocolate, and if she were the suspicious sort, Anisah would have genuinely believed he was an incubus reborn in human form.
“If you grant me one dance...”
She desperately fought against the dangerously intoxicating lure hidden deep in his words. One dance, he said. And yet the way he was looking at her told Anisah that it was impossible to end with just one dance.
“Say yes, anisdi.”
And now his voice had turned into a purr, and no matter how hard she tried to resist, her senses still swam at the sound.
“What harm could one dance do?”
“Everything, sheikh.” It took everything Anisah had to cling to the last remnants of her common sense.
The sheikh’s tone turned mocking. “You speak as if a dance with me is fraught with peril.”
“That’s because it is, Your Highness.”
“Would you at least care to elaborate?”
Oh, heaven help her, but he was looking at her that way again!
“Stop that!”
“Stop what?”
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “You never used to pay attention to me---”
The sheikh smirked. “Is that a complaint?” A moment later, and his hooded gaze dipped low, and oh curse him, but he was doing it again, and it was all she could do not to wrap her arms around her body and admit the shameful truth that he was making her feel so shamefully wet.
“Just one dance,” the incubus masquerading as the sheikh whispered, “and I promise nothing bad will happen.”
Oh, if only he really were a sex-mad demon, then she would have known what to do, and he would be exorcised out of her life once and for all.
But unfortunately for her…Tarif Al-Atassi was all too human, and she had a bad feeling it was only a matter of time before all hope was lost and she would find it impossible to resist him.
One dance, one word, one touch – that was all it took for any woman, even her, to fall for a playboy’s trap, and
even though she was not in love with Tarif Al-Atassi, Anisah also knew better than to pit her inexperienced self against the sheikh’s seductive prowess.
Since indirect rejections didn’t work on the sheikh, Anisah took a deep breath and decided to switch tactics. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I cannot, will not, and will never dance with you.”
“For what reason?”
She lifted her chin. “Because you are not my type, sheikh.” There. She had said it. Hopefully, he would go away and leave her in peace now.
Unfortunately, it only caused the sheikh to throw his head back with a laugh.
“What a rare, improper thing for you to say, Tory.” Tarif shook his head. “You have quite the impressive knack for taking me unawares, anisdi.”
“I believe I’ll take that as a compliment, sheikh,” she said coolly.
“You should,” he answered easily. “But maybe take it as a warning as well – because this talent of yours only makes me want you more.”
Oh! Her stupid heart skipped a beat, her body jerked, and she forgot for one embarrassing moment what she had prepared to say.
His eyes gleamed. “Cat got your tongue, Tory?”
His words were something of a relief, giving her something else to focus on, and she said sharply, “Please stop calling me that. People might misunderstand---”
“They won’t.”
“And you can be so sure of this how?” she asked scornfully.
“Because there will be nothing to misunderstand.” The sheikh’s tone, on the other hand, was calm and laconic even. “I am known to be very possessive, and I doubt there is a man in this world who will be so foolish as to call you in the same manner. You are Tory to me and only to me---”
Anisah gaped at the sheikh. “Are you out of your mind?”
“With lust for you? Most assuredly so.”
Aaargh! She could feel her entire body blushing at his words, and she asked in a mortified voice, ““Will you please stop uttering such things?”
“Why should I? Because it’s not proper?”
“Yes,” she affirmed with relief. At long last, the sheikh understood---
“Being proper ceases to be virtue if it hinders you from being true to yourself, my sweet.”
Oh curse this man to the abyss and back!
“It is the truth---”
“Interesting you’d say that,” he interjected, “considering that everything you’ve said in the past fifteen minutes has been a lie.”
An outraged gasp escaped Anisah at the unexpected accusation. “Excuse me?” How in the world had their conversation come to having her character questioned?
“Are you denying it?”
“I am not a liar!”
“Then tell me what you truly think of me,” Tarif invited lazily. He saw her lips tighten in response, and his lips curved into a taunting smile. “Afraid?”
Indignation flared inside of her, and Anisah’s chin automatically lifted. “Of course not!”
“Then why not speak the truth?”
“Because it’s the proper---” She caught herself in time, but it was too late.
“Proper to lie, you mean?”
The sound of repressed laughter in the sheikh’s tone broke Anisah’s already tenuous hold on her temper, and she found herself snarling, “My reputation is everything to me---”
“Is that your way of saying that one dance with me can cause your reputation harm?”
“Yes!” Finally, hallelujah, he had seen the---
“Because you find me irresistibly attractive?”
Color burst in Anisah’s cheeks at the way he had so skillfully twisted her words. “I did not mean that at all!”
Tarif sighed. “And yet another lie---”
“I am not lying!”
The sheikh shook his head. “But of course you are.”
She almost stomped her foot in frustration, hissing, “Stop this, Your Highness!”
But the sheikh’s lips only twitched in response at her furious exclamation, and now even the last vestige of her self-discipline broke.
Oh, curse him!
Anisah found herself no longer caring one bit of what was or wasn’t proper. All she wanted was to get rid of the too cocky look on the sheikh’s face, and this spurred her to say wrathfully, “If you want the truth so much, Your Highness, then I’ll give it to you.”
And after one deep breath, she let loose every single critical thought she had of the sheikh.
I think you’re so full of yourself!
I think you’re undeserving of the king’s trust!
I think you spend too much time fooling around, and I think all you’re good for is adding unnecessary glamor to the kingdom!
Words of vitriol continued to pour out of her throat, with Anisah’s rage-fueled rant only ending when she had to gasp for breath.
And when she did---
“Is that all, anisdi?” the sheikh asked very, very politely.
Horror instead of triumph filled her, and Anisah’s hands flew to cover her mouth in dismayed shock.
Oh dear heavens!
Why had she let herself act in such an inexcusably improper manner, and with an Al-Atassi sheikh of all people? How could she have forgotten that she and her sister owed their whole lives to the royal family? Whatever happened to her vow to live honorably and properly, the way her father had not?
Tarif was about to speak when to his surprise, Anisah suddenly fell to her knees, dark head bowed. “I humbly beg your forgiveness, Your Highness.” Anisah’s voice was hollow, a large part of her still reeling from shock at her sheer loss of control. No matter what she thought of Tarif Al-Atassi, it was no reason for her to disrespect the sheikh, and that she had –
Tarif’s dark gaze remained inscrutable even as his mind shrewdly assessed the telltale play of emotions on Anisah’s lovely face. He should have known that his sweet puritan would be so stricken with guilt over hurling insults at him she would end up punishing herself with something this drastic.
The question now, he thought contemplatively, was what to do about it.
He still wanted her in his bed, but he did not want her browbeaten into it. He wanted her to come to him of her own volition, but how?
As his mind continued to consider and discard one possibility after another, the sheikh was unable to resist the urge to touch her, his fingers gently reaching down to cup her chin. He felt her tremble at his touch, and a sardonic smile twisted on his lips.
If only he could make himself believe her reaction was out of sexual awareness and not because she was suffering from the throes of misplaced guilt and self-reproach.
“Anisah.”
“Yes, Your Highness?” She squared her shoulders as she waited for the sheikh’s next words, telling herself that she would take whatever punishment he deemed appropriate for her show of disrespect.
“Are you on your knees because you intend to apologize with a blowjob?”
WHAT?
Anisah shoved his hand away as she furiously shot up to her feet, crying out “You loathsome---” She stopped speaking the moment she saw the mocking gleam in the sheikh’s eyes, realizing with a start that the infuriatingly perverse man hadn’t meant it at all, and his next words confirmed as much.
“You’re angry,” Tarif purred in approval. “That’s better. There’s no fun teasing you when you’re acting all meek and mild---”
“I am meek and mild,” she said defensively.
“And I’m both a saint and a virgin,” the sheikh retorted, laughing at her face. “No, my sweet, what you are is the most troublesome of puritans---”
“Excuse me?” she half-shrieked. Had he just called her a prude?
“The most luscious of harpies,” the sheikh continued in a voice that hinted of ill-smothered laughter.
“Harpy?” And now he was likening her to a mythical monster?
“Nem, anisdi,” the sheikh actually had the sheer audacity to affirm it. “A harpy pretending to be a
tame little dove…” The sheikh’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam. “Which now brings us to my side of the story.”
Before Anisah realized what was happening, the sheikh had already closed in on her like a beast trapping its prey, and she found herself backed against the glass wall, caged in his arms, and his lean, hard length dangerously close to pressing intimately against hers.
Curses!
She had never been this close to any man, and for the sheikh to be the first---
This would not do!
“Unhand me!”
“Manners, anisdi,” Tarif taunted. “Shouldn’t you have tagged a ‘Your Highness’ at the end to make it proper and all?”
Violet eyes shot wildly furious sparks at the sheikh. “If you do not unhand me, Your Highness, I shall do my best to properly claw your eyes---”
The sheikh laughed. “See? You, my sweet, are a harpy through and through.”
Anisah no longer bothered to answer. All she cared about now was getting away, and so she did as promised, struggling so she could claw at his face. But no sooner had her arms lifted than the sheikh had her arms imprisoned over her head, and Anisah could’ve screamed. How was it that this infernal man always ended up getting the better of her? How?
“Stop fighting me, anisdi.” His body slammed hard against her a moment later, imprisoning her for good, and as the powerful, muscular weight of him came into contact with her soft, shaking curves, Anisah’s frustration turned into a shameful, hot, moist welling of awareness.
Oh…stars above…no.
NO.
She might be a virgin in every way, but it didn’t mean she was sexually unaware. She knew, oh heaven help her, but she knew exactly what the wetness threatening to spill out of her meant, and she hated it.
How she hated it, knowing that the moist response of her body was because of Tarif Al-Atassi of all people---
Oh how she hated it, knowing that there also wasn’t a thing she could do to stem her wanton desire for him.
Tarif stared down at his captive: she was panting, her lips slightly parted, her chest heaving hard, and goddammit, but it was the most arousing sight, and he had the most basic urge to shove her robe up her waist and sink his cock deep into her virgin pussy so he could show her that no matter what she did – no matter how she wished otherwise – they wanted the same thing.
