Older Woman, Younger Sheikh

by Teresa Morgan

  She smiled at the mock disdain in his last words. "Oh," she said, joining the game. "You want all the logical, rational arguments for us sleeping together. I guess that makes sense."

  "That is something like what I said."

  "Well, your age and your hotness make you an ideal toy to use for my selfish pleasure."

  He gripped her hip, a warning gesture.

  "Okay, okay. Well, you're right here. Location, location—"

  "Stop, Rania." A blaze flashed in his eyes. "Tell me about you. Tell me why I should be with you. There are billions of other women in the world. Why you?"

  She swallowed. Herself. She was supposed to tell him what she admired about herself. She'd been so focused on others that he couldn't have asked a harder question.

  "I am attractive," she told him. She knew that. It had caused her a lot of problems over the years. "And I'm kind."

  "Perhaps a little too kind."

  "Perhaps a little too kind," she agreed.

  "What else, Rania? Tell me."

  "Just sleep with me, Amin. There's no need for all this." Ah. She knew what to do to make him squirm. Hit him in his sensitive spot. He'd be jelly in her hands. As long as one particular part of him didn't turn to jelly…

  She ran her tongue down the muscle in the side of his neck.

  He moaned in pleasure, just like he'd done the last time. But when she started to kiss behind his ear, he gasped and pushed her back.

  "Tell me," he rasped.

  Why was he being so annoying? Well, she could be just as annoying.

  She slid off his lap and stepped back. "If you don't want to, just say so."

  He wanted to. The hardness she felt against her had betrayed that info. No doubt.

  He leaned back in the chair, casual and in control. "I will remove one item of clothing for every reason you give. Every acceptable reason."

  "You don't play fair." She pouted.

  "Rania, the people in your life have spent years telling you that you are unworthy. I cannot undo that damage, but I wish you to see yourself the way I see you."

  The air seemed to leave the room, like an airlock vented into space. Her heart took up residence in her ears, pounding a repetitive beat.

  How he saw her. How did he see her?

  Did Amin still see her at seventeen, fresh and untouched by the world? New and open.

  No, she hadn't been that girl for a long time. She'd been through so much. Suffered, but she'd learned. Amin saw her now. Saw right through to who she was at the core of her being.

  Now if only she knew who that was.

  Before Ghassan's death, she would have said she was beautiful, self-sacrificing, and noble. But now?

  "I am strong." Her voice broke on the words, but they sounded good, felt good. Felt right. So she said them again, this time louder. "I am strong because what I went through made me strong. I've been through merda, but I survived more that most people will ever have to, and now I can handle anything." She could certainly handle one bossy sheikh. She jutted out one hip. "Now take off your shirt."

  "As you command." And he pulled his shirt over his head without unbuttoning. This caused the muscles in his abs to ripple in all kinds of interesting ways. No doubt his goal in doing the action in the first place.

  He really did not play fair. Her mind filled up with those interesting abs instead of coming up with something that would make him remove those trousers. Which was a critical thing on her current agenda.

  A few of her brain cells still functioned. "I'm giving," she managed. "But I won't give away everything for the comfort of others anymore. You can have the shirt off my back, but not the skin from it."

  He nodded and reached for his fly. And then she noticed his belt, previously hidden by his shirt. He zipped it off, and made no other move.

  Bastardo!

  "That's an accessory," she pointed out. "Not clothes."

  "We could have an argument about this, or you could tell me another thing. Which do you think would take less time?"

  She snorted at him. The stronzo had a point.

  But what she had to say now had a darker tinge to it. Her experiences had left her with scars.

  "My heart is not as open as it used to be. But I don't think that's a bad thing. From now on, I will let the right people in and not let the wrong ones use me. Or anyone."

  One corner of his lip turned up. "One can only aspire to be worthy of your time and affection."

  "Start by dropping your pants," she told him. "Aspire to that."

  He gave a low laugh and did as told. Revealing a pair of strong thighs and also a pair of designer underwear.

  "Porca vacco,” she swore.

  One item of clothing, and one compliment about herself, stood between her and a very naked, very aroused Amin.

  Her brain shut down. Completely. She had no thoughts left, only an unconquerable desire to take her own clothes off. Her dress chafed like a skintight casing.

  Since Amin had already unzipped the gown, slipping out of it only took a shrug. The garment puddled on her feet, filling her with relief and freedom.

  Leaving her in front of Amin wearing only skin-colored lingerie. His head lowered like an animal about to charge.

  But she was the one in control here. She desired him. All choices belonged to her.

  She strode to him and attacked his beautiful lips, filling her mouth with his savory taste.

  "Now who is not playing fair?" he managed, between deep, stomach-clenching kisses.

  "Zitto," she told him. Shut up. "And mi cazzo."

  "I will not fuck you," he said. "I intend to make love to you. For the rest of our lives."

  "I—" The objections stumbled over each other, tying her tongue. Then the reasons he'd just had her come up with, the reasons why she deserved him, began a war with her objections.

  Before she could process any of it, he drew back a heavy wave of her hair to expose her neck. His clever tongue began to lick its way up from her collarbone, and she once more became limp and mindless. She was beginning to see what he enjoyed about that…

  The bed.

  She had to get him on the bed. Before her knees gave out. She wanted him, and wanted him now, and he was going to give in to her demands.

  Or else.

  "Bed," she ordered. "Now."

  He made a moan of assent as he caught her mouth again, and wrapped solid arms around her. Oh, he felt so good against her body, all wiry, muscled strength. Confidence and desire.

  Heat poured through her as they stumbled together toward the bedroom, their hands scrambling over each other, fumbling and ecstatic.

  Finally—finally—they tumbled onto the mattress together, Amin twisting as they fell so he ended underneath her. She ripped off her bra and flung it somewhere, desperate to feel the scrape of his chest hair over her sensitive nipples.

  She bent down, demanding more kissing from him, more contact, more caresses, more everything. He pulled at her panties and she managed to get one leg out, but they stuck around her ankle and wouldn't come off—but whatever, she could feel his hard pene jutting against her hip, poking her body.

  And all she wanted was him inside her.

  She sank onto him. At least, she tried. Strong hands at her hips kept her from connecting.

  "Amin," she growled.

  "One more," he said. "One more reason."

  An infuriated sound rumbled from her throat. He looked at her with dancing eyes. "One more, Rania. You know what it is. Say it."

  Her heart ker-thumped again before pole-vaulting into the base of her throat, threatening to cut off her air.

  "Say it," he insisted.

  "Because you love me," she said. "You should sleep with me because you love me. I was there for you like you were there for me, in the worst moments of your life. Your feelings for me have lasted since you were a child, and they will never go away."

  "Rania," Amin breathed, like an act of worship.

  They joined fully, all damp
skin and shuddering heartbeats. Every moment of regret in her life had come to this, to this place where they could be together, touching each other both outwardly and inside.

  Twisted up in each other, they let their hands rove. Their mouths and tongues melted together, tasting and licking like people denied food for weeks. His hands covered her breasts, driving her to wildness. He pulsed and stroked inside her, sending erotic pleasure signals out to every inch of her.

  She dragged her hands over his chest, savoring the sensation of his wiry hair against her palms.

  This was all so very different from… from… from someone she'd forgotten.

  For an instant, she grasped at the memory. A faded face just out of her reach. If she just reached a little further…

  "Rania," a voice called her. Amin. A sticky hand drifted up her belly, over her ribs, to tease the under-curve of her sensitive breast. "Rania, come back to me."

  She unclasped the fingers of her memory, letting the familiar face glide away from her. Wishing whoever it was a silent goodbye.

  "You," Rania said, answering a question no one had asked. "Amin. I want you."

  The corners of his mouth tipped up in pure, wicked satisfaction. And then she was on her back, Amin sucking and licking her neck as he—ooh, did incredible things to her.

  The pleasure built, a growing ball of light deep inside her. Tightening and glowing until it went supernova, the explosive pleasure reaching every inch of her flesh. Only then did she feel him loosen his supreme control and pulse his own release deep inside her.

  They clung together, sated and exhausted, until the dark of sleep fell, along with an uncertain future.

  She woke to a light touch on her face, Amin drawing the hair off her cheek as he looked down on her with possession in his eyes. Possession and something new. Uncertainty.

  "Where will you be?" he asked her.

  The first time she'd heard his voice be anything but absolute.

  Here. I'll be here. I'll be here for you and for Jeddah. Every instinct demanded it.

  "Italy." The word surprised her. But it tasted good, like the gelato she remembered from her childhood. So she said it again. "Italy. But I won't go until—"

  Until Jeddah passed.

  "Do not listen to the doctors. The best specialist in England is currently on a plane to Nalut to treat her. She will recover. She is stronger than you imagine," he said. "Like her granddaughter."

  "Oh, I know how strong she is. Believe me." Of course her grandmother would recover. There was no doubt of it in her mind. With Amin providing the best care, Jeddah would live for many more years. Probably decades.

  As soon as Jeddah was better, Rania would leave for Rome. Amin would have to live with her decision. She might be falling in love with him, but if she didn't get away from Qena for a while, she would regret it forever, going from the mistress of one sheikh to another without even a beat between them.

  "A short plane ride only," he said, drawing a little angular pattern on her collarbone. "I will come to Italy. Often. Though you may not wish to permit it."

  "You want to come see me? I guess you’ve forgiven me for sending you to England?"

  He nodded. "I understand now why you did this. However, I cannot help but think there had to be another way. One that would have permitted us to remain together."

  "Not as long as you being close to me meant you being close to him," she said. "Why wouldn't I want you to come visit me?"

  "For a simple reason." He replaced his finger with his tongue, tracing her flesh with damp pleasure that made her breath catch. "I intend to seduce you. In every way. Until your mind and body are mine. And your heart."

  "Amin—"

  He looked up at her through dark lashes, resting his chin in the valley between her breasts. "Go ahead and have all the objections you wish, Rania. I will overcome them all, one by one, until you choose to be with me forever. Until you marry me, Rania."

  She bit her lip, but the giggle escaped her anyway.

  "I find nothing funny about the concept. And you will find yourself taking my proposal just as seriously."

  "Okay, besides the fact I'm a million years older than you." She couldn't keep the grin from her face. She threw the back of her hand to her forehead with feigned drama. "I'm a tainted woman. No one would accept me as your wife. The most I could ever be was your mistress."

  "Of course, you will need time to properly mourn for your dead husband. A year should be sufficient. Perhaps eleven months," he said, his eyebrows drawn together. His hand wandered to one of her nipples, making her gasp. "Or ten."

  "Dead husband," she managed. Somehow. Despite the shots of pleasure zinging behind her eyes.

  "Oh, perhaps you were unaware that you and Ghassan wed in secret eight years ago. I only learned this fact myself last night."

  "So…" She did her best to intuit the twisty path of Amin's mind. "You're telling me you manufactured a fake wedding certificate between him and me so that I could live in Qena without any disgrace attached to my name."

  He widened his eyes in fake innocence. "Manufactured? Never. But I found such a certificate in the palace records. It will be leaked to the public Monday morning."

  "Hmm. Well, marrying Ghassan seems to have slipped my mind." Her light words hid the growing nausea in her tummy.

  "Very forgetful of you," he chastised. "I am afraid you also signed a bulletproof prenuptial agreement that entitles you only to the property I outlined earlier this evening. If you wish to access any of his assets, you will have me to contend with. You will have to be quite persuasive."

  Trailing his hand down her ribcage and over her hip, he made it clear exactly how he'd like to be persuaded. With the whirling torrent of emotion in her, she could barely enjoy it. Wet heat gathered in the corners of her eyes.

  "Rania," he said, his tone meant to reassure. "He is gone. Forget him. He tormented us both. Do not let him do so from the netherworld. Believe me, I do understand how this lie affects you."

  "I'll be tied to him forever. My first husband."

  He gathered her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. "But your reputation as an honest woman is restored. No one will look at you with scorn again."

  "That's stupid. A piece of paper turns me from a whore into an angel."

  "I know. But it also means you have no more battles to fight. One little lie earns you the respect you have never been given. This is the easy way of doing things, Rania. After all you have put up with, you deserve to take the easy way for the first time in your life."

  She laughed again. "You offered to marry me once. And now you offer to marry me. To Ghassan."

  He didn't laugh back. A grim twist tainted his thin smile. "I would not share you with him, not even now. But I do not wish his stain to foul our children."

  "Children?" she squeaked. "You want children? With me?"

  "As many as you desire. As soon as you desire," he said. "We could start now, if you wish. Though perhaps it would be best to wait until after we are married."

  “I… I…” she stuttered, her gut roiling. "I don't know. Maybe you can't face it, but I'm not as young as I used to be…"

  "I do," he said, with confidence ratcheted to the red zone. "I also know this is nonsense. You are thirty-three, not sixty. Ghassan made you feel as old as he. My task is to make you realize you are as young as I am. It shall be my great pleasure to persuade you. Thoroughly." His hand moved from her hip, trailing across to the inside of her thigh. "Beginning now."

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  ***Coming September 15, 2015***

  The next book in the Jewels of the Desert series, Desert Sheikh vs American Princess!

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  More stories by Teresa Morgan

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  No Sleep For The Sheikh

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  Handcuffed to the Sheikh

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  Sheikh with Benefits

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  Valentine Vegas Gigolo Sheikh

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  Paranormal romances by Teresa Morgan, writing as Teresa Wilde

  The Earl With The Dragon Tattoo

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  Strange Academy

  For teens, from Teresa Wilde

  Puck Off! A Teen Fairy Tale

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  Over my Dead Body: A Teen Urban Fantasy

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