Shared for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 10)

by Annabelle Winters

  Ephraim snorted, shaking his head and gesturing to Ephraim, as if to say, “You answer her.”

  Darius answered, smiling and shaking his head as he explained that if he did that, it would put both of them in weakened positions: Ephraim would look weak for asking; and Darius would still look weak for stepping back and allowing a hundred thousand immigrants to share in his people’s land without protest.

  Jan smiled and nodded, but in truth she wasn’t listening. She already knew the answer to that last question: She’d asked it of both of them before, and she understood the answer. She’d only asked them again to keep them talking, to keep them distracted, to keep them drinking that tea . . .

  Now she began to feel the buzz creeping up on her, and she took a deep breath and gulped down the rest of the tea she’d so dutifully poured for all three of them. When she looked up past the flames, she caught Darius staring at her with a glint in his green eyes.

  With the hint of a smile and a subtle shake of the head, Darius looked at the cup in his hand, looked back at her, and then gulped down the rest of the tea, wiping his mouth with a silk handkerchief and then tossing the cup aside. By now Ephraim had figured out what was going on too, and he laughed and drank his tea down. Then he stood, and with a flourish he hurled the metal cup far off toward the dark waters of the oasis. He cocked his head and put a hand to his ear as they heard a faint splash.

  They all broke into laughter, and Darius clapped his hands and pointed at Jan.

  “You,” he said, the words slurring a bit, “are not to be underestimated. I was right to choose you.”

  Jan felt a surreal calm flow through her as the aruha she’d mixed into their tea kicked its way into her system. She smiled at the two Sheikhs, and then she slowly shook her head. “You don’t choose anymore,” she said quietly. “I do. I choose to be queen in public, and I choose to submit to you both in private. I choose.”

  Ephraim was still on his feet, and he turned and looked down at Jan. She leaned back on the wooden bench, arching out her chest, feeling a sensation of power and confidence surge through her in a way that she was sure wasn’t just the drug. It was more. It was her. It was who she was becoming.

  “One ruler of two kingdoms, right?” she said, glancing at one Sheikh and then the other. “Isn’t that the idea? And how will I balance two kingdoms if I can’t balance two kings? This is my training ground, isn’t it? This is my training.”

  She watched as Darius and Ephraim looked at one another and then back toward her. She could feel their eyes glancing at her heavy cleavage in that silver gown, and she leaned back and spread her arms over the backrest of the bench, crossing one leg over the other as her gown rode up to show some thigh. For a moment she felt like a queen, sitting there on her wooden throne, her two knights by her side. Her two knights, her two kings, her two Sheikhs, her two husbands.

  She could see their eyes glaze over as they stared at her lips, her bare shoulders, the outline of her nipples beneath the white satin, the curves of her rump and thighs as she sat before them. Perhaps it was the drug, but somehow the thought of two men competing to fill her with their seed was doing something to her.

  You already are thinking of yourself as a queen who balances two sides of great power, aren’t you, came the wild thought as she watched the Sheikhs shift uncomfortably and glance at each other, each of them adjusting their pants to account for the growing bulges at the front. And you’re not going to simply yield to their move, are you? You’ve got a counter-move, do you not? You’re going to match up with them, aren’t you? Of course you are.

  “I heard what you said,” she whispered, slowly uncrossing her legs until she sat plumb in the middle of the long wooden bench, her thighs spread in that satin gown, the cloth gathering around her naked crotch, a gentle wet spot beginning to form. She had her elbows resting on the backrest, her chin pointed up proudly, and she smiled as she spoke. “And I’m fine with it. So let the games begin, your highnesses. Give me your best shot.”

  The combination of the aruha and what she’d just said hit her with a rush of euphoria that made her body light up from the inside, every fiber in her alert and alive. She could see the two Sheikhs visibly harden beneath their trousers, and as each man slowly got to his feet until they faced her, the flames dancing between the three of them, the Golden Oasis silent and dark in the background, Jan reminded herself that if she played this out the way she wanted, this would be no ordinary marriage. She would be playing this game the rest of her life.

  Can I do it, she wondered as she watched the flames move while the two kings undressed before her, slowly at first, speeding up as she undid the thin straps of her gown and let her breasts hang free. Can I dance this three-way dance for the rest of my life? A normal marriage thrives on honesty and openness, on being vulnerable and showing understanding, on forgiveness and communication. But this marriage will fail if everyone is honest all the time. Because this isn’t just about three people enjoying each other’s sex and making sure everyone feels happy and safe at all times—it’s about something bigger. Certainly there are already feelings at play here, and certainly I can see myself loving both these men for who they are and what they do to me. But we are all here for politics as much as for pleasure. The pleasure has to be real, but the politics is the reality. If they, as proud and powerful men, are willing to sacrifice their titles and power for the good of their kingdoms, then shouldn’t you, as a woman, be ready to sacrifice your conventional notions of what love and honesty in a marriage mean?

  And as the Sheikhs stood bare and hard before her, their dark mastheads glistening in the red light of flame, Jan smiled up at them and nodded. And though the men took it as a signal to descend on her, Ephraim kissing her on the lips ferociously as he grasped her breasts while Darius went to his knees before her open thighs and buried his face in her crotch, Jan knew she was nodding to herself, telling herself yes, she was committing to this all the way, for the rest of her life, whether these men knew it or not.

  Whether they knew it or not.

  30

  Ya Allah, does she know what she is doing, Darius thought as the scent of her sex poured into him as he buried his nose and mouth between her legs, his arousal so strong that he was salivating like a dog in heat. He roughly pulled the thin satin of her gown away, gasping at the sight of her dark triangle of brown curls, her red slit almost glowing in the light of the flames. He took a deep breath of her sex and began to lick her with the flat of his tongue, running up and down her slit lengthwise until she was so wet he could see her juice glistening on her soft, creamy inner thighs.

  Above him he could feel Ephraim leaning over and kissing her, pinching and pulling at her breasts. Ephraim was on his knees up on the bench beside Jan as Darius licked her from the ground, and soon Darius could feel Ephraim’s fingers down near Jan’s crotch as he licked her there.

  Jan moaned to the heavens as Ephraim slid two fingers into her even as Darius kept licking her, and Darius knew she was going to come soon, come hard, come for them. For both of them.

  Suddenly it hit Darius that Jan had heard them and she was fine with it?! What did that mean? Was she truly prepared to choose whichever Sheikh’s seed rested in her womb first? Did she see no difference between Darius and Ephraim? Were the two of them simply tools, machines, beasts of burden to give this queen what she wants?

  The thoughts were mad, and Darius tried to remind himself that he was on a drug. But the thoughts kept coming as he tasted her from the inside, driving his tongue into her vagina as he felt Ephraim rub her clit roughly and pull at her matted pubic hair as he fingered her. Jan was moaning loudly, writhing in their arms, her soft thighs closing and opening wildly against his face. He glanced up for a moment and saw Ephraim holding her throat as he kissed her, still fingering her with the other hand, and from the way Jan’s buttocks were shuddering from the tongue and fingers inside her, Darius knew she was a
bout to come.

  He kept going, pushing his face deeper into her crotch as his erection surged to full hard. Darius wanted to take her now, hard and deep. He wanted to fill her like he’d done on the plane that first time, on the boat earlier that day. How many times had Ephraim fucked her, he wondered as a momentary rush of anger blasted through him. Suddenly he couldn’t breathe, and he pulled his face away from between Jan’s legs, his eyes going wide as he raised his head and stared up at Ephraim kissing her hard, biting her lips, licking her cheeks as she moaned and shuddered. She was already starting to come, her moans turning to wails as her orgasm came screaming in while Ephraim curled his fingers up in her, rubbing her clit furiously with the butt of his thumb.

  Darius sat there on his haunches, taking deep gulps of air as he stared at his rival kiss and finger his woman, his queen, the one he’d chosen. Did she even care who was fucking her? Did she even notice he’d backed away? Did she even—

  “Darius,” she moaned suddenly, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to focus, one hand reaching out into empty space, her fingers clawing desperately at nothing as she tried to reach for him. “Where are you? Don’t stop. Please.”

  Her need was real, and Darius’s cock flexed involuntarily at the sound of her plea. Ephraim turned and looked at Darius for a moment, and Darius saw that same flash of anger in Ephraim’s peaked face, that same mix of jealousy and competition. Ephraim was naked too, his cock flexing hard as their queen called for Darius. It made Darius almost laugh in delight, because now he could feel that wild, manic, almost violent arousal that he instinctively understood only came to be when a man was competing for a woman at the most primal, fundamental, physical level. Through the throes of his ecstasy and the madness of the aruha, it really seemed like the presence of another hard cock was making him want her more, need her more, lust for her in a way that might never happen with just one-on-one sex.

  It is that primal sense of competition, the need to make sure that it is indeed my seed that makes it to her womb first, Darius decided as he grinned at Ephraim and then spread Jan’s thighs and pushed his face against her wet crotch again. Both Ephraim and I feel it, and it is like a drug in itself, yes?

  Jan kept coming as the thoughts flowed through Darius’s head, and he could feel her fingers clawing at his thick hair, he could taste her juices flowing down the corners of his mouth, he could smell her sex so strong and clean that it was all he could do to clench his balls and not come all over the sandy ground of Noor Island.

  Finally Jan pushed his head away and clamped her thighs shut tight as she shuddered through the death throes of her orgasm, and Darius pulled back and sat down on his naked ass. Ephraim still had his hand around her throat, and he was hard and throbbing, clearly trying to push her onto her back so he could enter her.

  “No,” she whimpered. “I need a moment. Stop. Stop!”

  Ephraim growled like an animal, and Darius tensed up when he saw Ephraim’s hand tighten around her throat. Jan opened her eyes and locked her gaze with Ephraim’s, and he growled again and tried to stare her down. They stayed like that for a long moment, Ephraim’s right hand tight on her throat, the head of his cock touching her naked belly, his left hand holding her breast, fingers pinching her nipple so tight it was white from the pressure.

  Darius fought the impulse to stand and pull Ephraim away from Jan, throw him to the ground, kick him in the face, do whatever he needed to do to get him away from Jan. Is it because I want to protect Jan, or simply because I want to do to Jan what he is about to do, he wondered as he watched the two of them look into each other’s eyes before Ephraim slowly released her throat and stood down, grinning wide and nodding as he did it.

  “As you wish, your highness,” Ephraim whispered, leaning forward and licking her cheek before backing away. He looked down at her naked body, creamy white and shining in the firelight. Then he glanced at Darius, grinning again when he saw how hard and ready they both were. “But I have right of first entry this time. Remember that.”

  Darius smiled tightly, glancing at Jan and then back at Ephraim. “And you must remember that it is I who chose Jan, it is I who brought her to us, it is I who chose to share her with you.” His smile vanished when Ephraim turned to him and locked eyes. “And so it is I who will always have right of first entry.”

  Ephraim held the gaze, and Darius could feel the heat build as the fire flickered and danced in the background. Finally Ephraim broke a grin, shrugging his powerful shoulders and standing up off the bench, shaking his head as he started to laugh. “No matter,” he said, walking over to the steel wine flask sitting on the sand. He took a long swig and shrugged again. “You can have right of first entry. It will not last long. Once she is with my child, first right will be mine.”

  “Says who?” came Jan’s voice, cutting through the tension as both Sheikhs turned to her and stared.

  “That is tradition,” said Ephraim, frowning deep, his eyes narrowing. “When a Sheikh takes four wives, the first wife always has pride of place. In the court, at the dinner table, and in bed. We made an agreement.”

  Jan shook her head, smiling as she looked at Ephraim and then at Darius. “The two of you made an agreement, and so it stays between the two of you. You guys want to put your sperm in competition, go ahead. You guys want to agree that the winner—whatever that means—gets pride of place in the queen’s court? Great. I do understand that I’m not going to be some dictator ruling your kingdoms, that I’ll be a figurehead to a large extent, that the two of you will always be behind me, ruling your kingdoms through me. I’ll be ruling on your behalf, and I wouldn’t have it otherwise. I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own—it’s going to take me years to even become fluent in Arabic, for God’s sake. I understand that this is about perception and finding a way to combine your kingdoms without war and without making it look like either of you has compromised or yielded. So yes, I understand that the two of you will control how your kingdom is run, and I’m on board with that. It’s your right. But when it comes to my body . . . well, those rights are mine and mine alone. I decide now, and I will decide then.”

  “The father to the heir will be first husband,” said Ephraim, shaking his head. “It cannot be otherwise.”

  “He is right, Jan,” said Darius. “There are precedents. History. The way things are done.”

  Jan smiled, her brown eyes shining in the light of the fire, her skin glowing from the sweat and heat generated by their three bodies. They were all naked, sitting by the fire, beneath the stars, the angels and devils of the Golden Oasis watching them.

  “All right,” she said slowly, glancing at Ephraim and then Darius. “All right. First to father an heir is first husband. Are we happy now?”

  “We are happy,” said Ephraim with a grin. He glanced at Darius and then down at his cock, which was still hard and heavy. “Though only one of us will be happy when the inevitable takes place and my seed proves to be the stronger.”

  Darius grinned back at him, and his cock stiffened at the call to compete, the energy surging through his hard frame as if a million years of evolution was spurring him forward, reminding his body that the history of man can be boiled down to the simple contest of one man’s sperm against another’s.

  Darius stood to full height, and he saw the way Jan gasped when she glanced at his thick cock, his heavy balls, his broad chest, flat stomach. She is yours, came the thought from that ancient part of himself. Yours, and perhaps yours alone.

  “She is mine first,” came Ephraim’s rumble from his left, and Darius glanced over to see the younger Sheikh on his feet too, facing not Jan but Darius himself. For a moment the two kings stared at each other, their cocks erect and angry, balls heavy and ready, green eyes glazed with the madness of the drug, the craze of lust, the fire of pride.

  Time stood still as the two naked beasts stood illuminated by the dancing flames, and from the corner of his
eye Darius thought he could see shadows moving in the dark desert plants beyond their circle of light. Imagination? Hallucination? The snakes of myth? The ghosts of lore?

  This is our Garden of Eden, is it not, Darius thought as he looked into Ephraim’s eyes and swore he saw the devil, the Shaitaan himself. Or perhaps I am the devil, came the thought as he caught the image of Jan sitting naked on the bench watching them, a half-smile on her face. There were three players in the Garden of Eden, yes? Adam, Eve, and the devil. And there are three players in this story, yes? So if she is Eve, which one of us is Adam and which one the devil?

  The thoughts almost drove him insane as he stayed locked in on Ephraim. The Old Testament and the Quran shared the same stories, the same characters, the same players, and all of it spun together and ripped apart as those shadows danced and clapped in the background. Have we both taken a bite of the apple, tasted the forbidden fruit, begun our descent, our fall from grace, he wondered as he saw Ephraim lean his head back and roar with laughter. Jan was laughing in the background too, their sounds of mirth coming through to Darius in waves, the ripples taunting him, exciting him, terrifying him.

  He thought of that case with the guns and knives, wondering if that was the only sane course of action at this point. Was he really going to hand over his throne to a woman he’d known a few weeks? Was he really going to share his kingdom with a beast like Ephraim? Was he really going to send his small army to be slaughtered in battle with Ephraim’s hordes if they invaded? No. How could he do any of that? The only sane option would be to end it here, to end it now. To end Ephraim. To take one life for the good of millions. It was the way of a king. The way of a leader. The way of a Sheikh.

  He blinked and cocked his head as the visions grew stronger, and although Darius knew it was the aruha affecting his judgment, he could not break his thoughts away. It seemed so simple. Why twist and turn your way to a solution when the answer can be arrived at directly, with one bullet or a single slash to the throat? Is that any less insane than the situation you have already engineered? Do it, Darius! Do it!