How wounded she was, yet resilient. He admired that, wished he had some of that spunk for himself. She seemed to have divorced herself more successfully from her father’s long shadow than Ravi had, and that was an awe-inspiring feat. Yes, Ms. Callahan had so much to draw him to her, and he wanted to explore all of it.
Now that the belly dancers had come out, Bridget watched them with rapt attention. He wasn’t even sure if she realized that she was moving her arms in rhythm with their own undulations and waves. Eventually, two of the dancers saw what she was doing and pulled her up. Bridget looked over her shoulder and saw the crowd before her and froze. Her body went rigid and she shook her head frantically before leaning forward to whisper frantically into the lead dancer’s ear.
Worried for her, Ravi stood and asked was about to ask what was wrong, when Bridget turned to him and smiled broadly. Then she tugged lightly on his arm and away from the lead stage. The main dancer took a minute of intermission from the affairs behind her to lead them both to a private corner of the restaurant. She bowed low for Ravi and then pulled back the bangle-encrusted curtain. Behind it was a private room with a single divan in the middle and sumptuous red silk hanging from the ceiling.
He licked his lips and frowned down at Bridget. “I don’t understand.”
Bridget swallowed. “I know what I want, Ravi.” Then she nodded to the dancer. “Thank you for showing us to somewhere private.”
The dancer nodded and smirked at both of them as she drew the curtain closed again. “It is my pleasure to do whatever makes my sheikh the happiest,” she said.
That left Ravi to wander to the divan and sit on it. To his surprise, Bridget didn’t follow. “I confess, I’m a bit confused. If you wanted something more private, we could have gone back to the mansion. Besides, what do you mean that you know what you want?”
“I know. I knew in the limo, but I want to stay, and I want to prove to you how much I mean that,” she said, steeling her shoulders and holding up her chin high. “Did you know I used to dance ballet? I mean, I wasn’t great and I stopped when I was ten because after Mom…” she shook her head and started again. “I had to quit when we didn’t have the money or any way for me to get there, but I used to be an okay dancer.”
Ravi’s eyes widened and the blood starting flowing further south to the hardness building between his legs. His budding erection at least certainly liked where this was going. Truth be told, so did the rest of him. “And?”
She smiled at him and spread out her arms to chest level. A new song was blaring out in the other room, the clarinet and drums setting another sensuous rhythm for the entertainers to dance too. Bridget gave a flick of her hips that left him standing at full attention in more ways than one. With one fluid motion, she pulled off her kaftan and let it fall to the floor. He loved the way she looked, the seeming miles of creamy, white skin. He adored her breasts, not too small, but just right for him to cup his hand around and the gem-studded bra that Kamala had chosen accentuated her curves beautifully.
Bridget started to move in earnest now, her arms moving with a dervish’s flourish as her hips rolled from side to side. As he watched, the bangles and bells around her waist started to beat in time with the music out there, and he felt himself lost in the dance, lost in her. Her belly dipped and twitched with expert precision, and Ravi suspected she was more than just ‘okay’ at ballet as well, even if they were very different types of dances. However, he was wrong on one thing. As the tempo of the music sped up into a rapid tattoo, that was when Bridget truly became a whirling dervish—leaping, twirling, and even arching her back in bends that would have left an untrained person in traction.
Dear Allah, how flexible she is.
Now his hardness was pressing painfully against the fabric of his slacks. Damn, how badly he wanted her. All of her.
As if reading his thoughts, she sashayed over to him, her hips still moving with sultry aplomb in time to the music. Then she straddled him. Bridget smiled and stared at him through heavy lidded eyes. One hand reached up to stroke his hair back from his forehead, and the other reached down to stroke his member through the thin cotton of his pants.
“I know that’s not exactly traditional belly dancing,” she said, stroking him again.
He groaned. “I think I can forgive you just this once for inaccuracy. If you stop stroking me, I think I’ll die right here. Of course, my swan,” he highlighted his point by stroking the delicate arch of her neck. “If you don’t stop touching me, I’m afraid I won’t last long. Damn it, if your touch doesn’t drive me wild.”
Her smile was an inscrutable expression that reminded him of the Mona Lisa. “I don’t think we want to have that.” Then she eased her hips down on him and pressed her body flush with his, her core over his length, her warmth almost sizzling up against him. Bridget threaded her hands through his hair again and let her fingers trail over his ear lobes. He shivered and felt the attraction pulsing through his body and to his erection. “Do you want to get out of here, my sheikh? I think of better things we can be doing,” she practically purred.
He kissed her lips, capturing them with his own. “I thought you’d never ask.”
***
Bridget was in the bathroom beside Ravi’s master suite in his mansion. She came home and gathered up something special that had been left in her dresser; a few things that probably had fit Sabella’s taste, but would work for what Bridget had in mind. However, part of her felt as she had at the dinner and dance: like a girl playing dress up. She was mimicking what she’d seen Sabella do or those dancers, even some of Cindi’s wilder stories.vThis wasn’t her.
Yet, she felt something in the limo, something deep. This was a man who was wounded and, despite the kingdom around him, perhaps as lonely as she was. Certainly, Sheikh Ravi Shamon was an orphan and she was effectively one. Dear old Dad was worse than a dead father, that was for sure. She wanted to touch Ravi. She wanted to reach that wounded soul inside him, that small glimpse she’d already been treated to. Yes, she wanted the sexy god she saw at the beach, but she also wanted to know Ravi, all of him. She used the dance as a way to offer that olive branch, to show him how determined she was to stay and try whatever odd relationship was unfolding between them.
But now she was standing there in a pink satin chemise that fell just below her ass and dipped ridiculously low on her breasts. It left nothing to the imagination. Surely, he had to see through her in a place as intimate as his bedroom, that she wasn’t the one he could possibly want. Her overactive imagination had been running wild for ten minutes as she pretended to wash her hands with lifelike scenarios of her stepping out and him both laughing at her and sending for Sabella instead.
She just wasn’t that girl, and never had been. Surely Ravi would see through that eventually? After all, Kevin had.
“My swan?” Ravi asked. “Are you ready?”
She gulped and took one last deep breath to steady herself. It was better to go out there and do her best, to try to explore what they had and find out if they were fully compatible—no matter how that resolved itself—than it was to run through worst-case scenarios on a loop.
“Come on,” she muttered to herself. “You can do better than skanky Sabella. I know you can!”
Exhaling one last time, she slipped out of the bathroom and into the cavernous bedroom before her. Ravi wasn’t in the bed and that surprised her. Instead, he was standing up, the moonlight playing over the lines of his torso and the ripples of his abs. He put the average washboard to shame. Hell, he put Michelangelo’s David to shame, too. Clearly, he was both genetically gifted and someone who hadn’t missed a workout. Ever.
And he’s all mine. At least until he gets tired of me.
She pushed the thought aside. If she were just some crazy phase of his, then she’d enjoy it for what it was. This was her carpe diem, her chance to seize what was before her and drink deep the best wine life had to offer her. That was what she needed, that self-confidence from t
he restaurant. That girl she morphed into for one dance would know what to do.
Ravi nodded toward her as he stalked over with all the grace of a lion hunting out on the Savannah to meet her. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
She felt the heat flush through her cheeks and wished she were darker like Ravi or that perfect Sabella. Then no one would be able to read her so easily, to see her every change in mood just by observing the color on her face and the changes there.
“You’re not bad either, definitely easy on my eyes,” she said. Then, it was almost as if instinct took over her, as it had at the restaurant. Falling to her knees—well sliding to them to avoid hurting herself—Bridget readied herself. It was like falling into a profane prayer, genuflecting before her new god.
What would that make Ravi? God of P90X? Oh, I know! He’s the God of Orgasms.
But two could play at that game. Kneeling up higher, she stuck out her tongue and flicked it against the happy trail of hair leading low to the waistband of his boxers. Then she arched her neck up so that she could finally trail the tip of her tongue on the ridges of his abdomen. She could taste the hint of salt on his skin even as his musk filled her nostrils.
Mine.
He was gorgeous, and no matter where else he’d been, Ravi was also hers for the night. Bridget intended to make the most of that. To show him everything she could and would do for him.
“Oh, my swan,” he said, stroking his hand through her hair. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
She grinned up at him, hoping he understood from her expression how game she was for everything. Her hands seemed to run on their own accord as they reached for the waist band of his boxers and pushed them down over the sharp bones of his hips. His erection sprang free, and her mouth watered at the perfect view before her. Opening her mouth wide she flicked her tongue out and tasted the tip of him, loving the saltiness and meatiness of him. Then she went to work, wrapping her mouth around his hardness and moving back and forth as her tongue laved at him.
He groaned and began to thrust against her, delicately as though not to push her, and only daring to go so deeply. It was okay for her, as it allowed her to keep lapping at him, to tease him with his tongue, as he actively made love to her mouth.
She snaked her hand out and cupped him, taking his testicles in her hand and teased them between her fingers, rolling them easily. Her rhythm with her mouth increased, as she was spurred on by the taste of him, the emphatic sounds of his shouts and curses. She swirled his tongue around the tip and it was enough, he came then and she swallowed it up greedily. It was something she’d never done before, and she couldn’t quite explain it, except that that Ravi was unique, a man who stirred her in a way no other man had. She got to her feet and he smiled back at her, and then kissed her lips.
“Did you like that?” she asked, amazed at the husky tone her voice had taken on.
Ravi kissed her again and stroked her tongue with his own. “You know that I did. Give me time,” he started, “I’ll pay you back.”
She smirked up at him. “You better. With interest.”
***
He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. It didn’t make complete sense. She captivated him since the moment he saw her in the photos on her father’s phone; he had to have her. That was the expression in her eyes, her piercing green gaze that seemed to reach not just to his nether regions, but also to his soul. It was so much more than that now as he watched her lying before him on the bed, ready for his embrace. It had been a bit of time since she pleasured him with her mouth, since he felt the ecstasy of her tongue, oh so warm, against his flesh. He was ready sooner than even he estimated, his hardness returning with a vengeance within half an hour.
He was so very hungry for her, and small tastes were never enough. None of it was enough. He tasted her mouth, snuck fingers inside her channel, and had her mouth over his length. It didn’t suffice, and he needed to be inside her, to own her totally and completely. Ravi opened a drawer in his bedside table and pulled out a condom. It took little time to tear open the foil packet and slip it over his length, and his swan watched all of that through those limpid green eyes of hers.
“Are you ready, princess?”
She teased her nipple with her fingers, raising it to a rigid peak that he couldn’t wait to have in his mouth. “I’ve always been ready, at least for you.”
It was the cue he needed. He strode toward the foot of the bed, and then he started to climb up over her, feeling like a tiger stalking his nubile prey. As he made his way up her torso, he stuck out his tongue and flicked it against her soft belly, letting it dip in and out of her belly button. She shivered and bucked under him, letting out the most delicious mewling noise beneath him.
He picked his head up as he made his way to lie totally over her body. Taking a deep breath, he reveled in the smell of her, in the hint of strawberry in her shampoo, the freesia and lilac wafting from her skin. She was like a garden, a fresh bit of wild nature splayed before him on his bed.
Then there were her eyes, so emerald and sparkling, so deep that he could lose his soul in her.
Dear Allah, I want to.
He nudged his length against her entrance, already feeling his eyes roll back in his head at the warmth that greeted him.
“You’re so ready for me, my swan.”
She bit her lip and moaned again. “I need you,” Bridget said, her voice small and breathy. “Please, Ravi, no more waiting.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself, princess,” he said, slipping inside of her, easing into her channel inch by inch.
The heat of her almost felt scorching against him as he slid in. When he was as deep as he could go, when he felt her womanhood flush against all of him, Ravi flexed his hips. It was like ripples of fresh water, clean waves lapping against him, the first volleys of pleasure teasing him.
“Are you ready? You’re comfortable?” he asked, kissing her lips and then both cheeks.
She blushed, and he loved the way that expression looked on her. “It’s good, just been a while.”
He rolled his hips and she moaned and bucked against him, raising her hips to meet his. “I can do whatever you need, my swan, whatever tempo.”
She swallowed hard, a bit of mischief gleaming in her green eyes. “Fast. Make love to me hard, Ravi, please.”
Part of him—the evil part—wanted to draw this out, to torture her with the slowest pace he could force himself to keep up, but he was as hungry for her as she was for him. Ravi could hold back no longer. He started pumping his hips in earnest, letting the waves of pleasure crest and wash over him. Beneath him Bridget mewled again and reached up with her hands, running them over his back and digging her nails in as he plumbed her depth. Their rhythm raced together, both of them moving in tandem.
There was so much around him now: his own ragged gasps, her moans, the scent of sex and freesia in the air and the silk sheets beneath his knees. It all began to merge into one, long blur as they thrust against each other.
Finally, she came, spasming around him, and it was enough to have the final tsunami of ecstasy surge over him as his testicles tightened, heavy with seed, and he came, flooding inside of her.
Wait…
She arched her neck back and screamed, her body quivering between them. Ravi waited till he had full feeling back in his limbs as he slid out of her. He cursed when he noticed the tear in the latex sheathing him.
“Fuck.”
She sat up and frowned back at him. “Is something wrong?”
“You’re on the pill, right?” he asked. “The damn condom broke.”
She stilled. “Yes, of course I am.”
He nodded. “I’m clean as well. I can have the royal doctor show you my sexual health check-up records.”
She shook her head. “I’m sure it’s something you pride yourself on to keep your health up.”
“Yes, but I’m sorry. That won’t happ
en again.”
Bridget got to her knees and then wrapped her arms around his waist. Soon soft lips were pressing against his cheek. “It’ll be fine, Ravi. We’re still protected, no worries.”
Chapter Seven
She snuck into the kitchen later that night, not sure if she was allowed, but finding it through a sheer mix of desperation and following her nose toward the strong sense of garlic. When she slipped inside, she found three industrial-sized fridges waiting for her. Ducking into one, she pulled out a carton of milk and grabbed a banana that was out on the counter among tons of other fresh fruit.
Sitting at the table, she peeled the banana and bit eagerly into it. Sex often wiped her out, leaving her both literally thirsty and starved. Ravi was sleeping away, but she needed a bit more in her stomach before she could get some rest.
“You look so happy,” the old servant she met on her first day in Dubai noted as he walked into the room.
She nodded back up at the older gentleman. “Thank you. Forgive me, but I forgot your name.”
“Adil. I’ve been watching after Ravi my whole life.”
“Aww, that’s sweet.”
He gave her a small smile and took a seat beside her. “I felt like I needed to say something.”
She looked down at the large t-shirt and boxers she’d stolen for the night from Ravi, glad that she looked decent for a stranger. “I’m sorry. I should have waited for breakfast, but I was hungry.”
“No, that’s quite alright. In fact, if you make a list, we’ll be sure to get you anything you need.” He grinned at her again. “Now that you’re staying, that is.”
She blushed a little and pushed her hair behind her shoulders. “I’m that obvious?”
“You seem to be positively glowing, Ms. Callahan.”
“I am. I just… this is so magical. I know that sounds crazy when it started out with fear and a crazy plane ride, to say the least.”
Adil gave a brusque nod. “Again, understandable.”
Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave Page 5
