Dark Horses: (Blood Brothers #5)

by Manda Mellett

  Lamis greets us with a wide smile and dip of her head, “Ladies, welcome. I am personal maid to Sheikha Cara. The sheikha wishes you to have comfort. Please to come with me.”

  Sally thanks her, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she views the admittedly romantic looking palace we’ve arrived at. Picking up her rucksack she hoists it over one shoulder, and her camera bag over the other, and sets off to follow the woman.

  I start to do likewise, but then falter. “Sally,” I start in a whisper, “Go ahead and get settled, I’ll come and find you soon.”

  She looks around, “What? You’re not coming?”

  “Go.” I give her a little push. “There’s something I want to do.”

  After giving me a strange look, with a shrug, she offers to carry my bag as well, and starts following Lamis, while I pick up a run and chase after the robed man.

  Jasim’s just entering the palace when I catch up with him. His long strides are taking him further away, so to get his attention I put my hand out and touch his arm. Swinging around as though ready to defend himself, he pulls back when he sees it’s just me.

  “Miss Stevens,” his eyes narrow, “What are you doing?” He sounds haughty.

  Why the hell isn’t he using my first name? His formality rekindles my anger. My fingers tighten against his sleeve, “I want to talk to you.” I’m hoping my tone conveys I’m giving him no choice.

  He looks down at me, in my flats he’s over a head taller, “I don’t believe there’s anything we need to discuss. I informed you I’d help by facilitating what you have asked for. I believe I’m quite clear on your requirements.”

  And I don’t think you’ve got any idea what I need.

  I’m staring into his face and see that flicker in his eyes which always gives him away, and the darkening of his olive-skinned cheeks. He’s not disinterested in me. I know that look. I’ve seen it before, many times. But previously only on the faces of men whom I had no reciprocal feelings for. This time it’s different. It makes me more determined to fight and make him listen to me. He’s drawn to me, but he’s running away.

  “I believe we do have something to talk about,” I state firmly, my hand still gripping his arm, unwilling to let him escape. “Give me five minutes, please, Jasim.”

  His palm covers my fingers, gently applying pressure until I open them. Once he’s set himself free, his feet shift, and at first my heart drops, as I think he’s going to continue to walk away. Then, abruptly, he seems to come to a decision, and lets out his breath on an exasperated sigh. “Come then. Five minutes. Follow me.” His robes billow around him as he leads the way into the palace, leaving me to trail behind him.

  I spend no time admiring my surroundings, just blindly try and stick with him so I don’t get lost in this large palace, struggling to keep up with his longer strides, thinking I’ll need a map or a guide to find my way back. As last he walks down a smaller hallway, and opens the door to what appears to be a private sitting room that’s not furnished formally, but for comfort. He waves me to a chair, I remain standing.

  He cocks a brow toward me, “Well?” As I take a second to summon my thoughts, he prompts me again, “You’ve got my attention. What is it you want to talk about? I’m a busy man, Miss Stevens. I can’t spare you much time.”

  He looks intimidating, and again there’s that use of my surname. Once more it makes me see red, and possibly more direct that I’d otherwise be. Taking in a breath, I almost spit the words, “You’re avoiding me, Jasim.”

  An imperious look, “Am I? I thought I’d arranged for Anarchy Rules to film in the harem as I agreed. And brought you here to the desert, to complete your project, just as you requested. I don’t see there’s any more I can do.”

  Waving my hands dismissively, I agree, knowing he’s purposefully misunderstanding me. “You did. But I’m talking about me, not the rest of the band.”

  “I’m afraid I’m a busy man, Miss Stevens. I really don’t have time to make small talk.”

  My hands bunch at my sides, and while I’ve never believed I’m a violent person, in truth I feel like hitting him. He’s being so arrogant, but there’s something else going on, I’m certain of it. “What is it with the formality? I thought we were friends.”

  He opens his mouth, then shuts it. Then gives a shake of his head, “Then you thought wrong. I was happy to help you when you were hurt. And there’s mutual benefit to be gained by allowing Anarchy Rules to film in Amahad. My part is now played. There’s nothing more between you and I.”

  But his eyes flick sideward. He’s lying.

  I take a step closer, he takes a step back. His face is flushed, his breathing appears laboured, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. At last he folds his arms over his chest, as though cutting himself off from me.

  I decide to go for broke. “You want me, Jasim. And,” I swallow, admitting something I’ve never had to confess before, “And I want you. I’m here for the taking. I’m offering myself to you. Why don’t you take the opportunity?”

  I’ve stunned him. My outright confession, without any sugar coating, comes as a complete surprise. He unfolds his arms, stretching them out straight as though to ward me off. I move closer, catching a waft of the soap he must use, and underneath that, the smell of a man. It’s a heady mix, affecting me so deeply it boosts my confidence.

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing.” He’s recovering quickly.

  “I’m not playing a game.”

  And now it’s his turn to move forward, his hands reaching out to grip my arms. “Oh yes, you are, little girl. You’re playing with fire.” He pushes me, forcing me backward until my back is up against a wall.

  “I’m not a girl, I’m a woman,” I spit at him. There’s that age thing again.

  One side of his mouth turns up, “Oh no you’re not, not yet.”

  Oh, he’s talking about his other objection. There’s a simple answer, “So make me one,” I challenge.

  Flecks of gold flare in his dark eyes, and for a moment I think I have him, but then he releases me and turns his back, “I can’t do that.”

  “Why the fuck not?” My rage is returning. “What’s stopping you, Jasim?”

  Chapter 15

  Jasim

  What’s stopping me, she’s asked? At this moment very little, I’m holding onto my control by a thread. One more push and she’ll have me over the edge. My cock’s pulsating, my balls throbbing with need. The woman I want is right here in front of me, begging me for what I’d give anything to be able to grant her. I can’t even look at her now, my limit has been reached.

  “You’re eleven years younger than me.”

  “Age doesn’t matter.”

  I swear under my breath. Is she going to come back with an answer for everything? “You’re a virgin.”

  “What’s that got to do with it? There’s got to be a first time…”

  “And your first time should mean something.”

  “Who says it won’t?”

  Now I swing back around, my hands fluttering to emphasise my point, “I’m not the man for a happily ever after. I don’t even do relationships, Janna. If I took you it might just be the once.”

  She shrugs, “So?”

  “So?” My hands rip of my headdress, my robes, worn as a mark of respect to the people of the desert, are annoying me now. Putting them on today seemed to heat the blood in my veins, to remind me of my history and my heritage. And the centuries in which men of my kind stole women to rape and pillage, to keep as our own. Right now, I’m feeling less like a civilised ambassador for my country, and more akin to an untamed warrior of the east. “So,” I force myself back to the present, “You should save yourself for someone who wants to give you the world. Who’ll worship at your feet.”

  “I never took you for a romantic.”

  She’s not listening. I need to make it plain. “You know fuck all about me.” Once again, I advance on her, my hands taking hers and holdin
g them over her head. My body presses up close against her, at this moment I don’t care that the evidence of my attraction is pushing against her stomach, leaving her in no doubt the spark she feels is mutual.

  “I’ve a sister your age,” I start, but then, remembering Nijad’s revelations, conclude perhaps defending her innocence on that comparison no longer holds merit. “You’re too young for me, Janna. And your innocence chills me.” There, I’ve admitted it.

  She shrugs, “I’ll go find someone to fuck, and then after I’ve got that out of the way, and I’m no longer a virgin, then you’ll want me?” There’s a sneer on her face, so I know she’s just thrown that out there to wind me up.

  But it hits the mark, a primitive rage makes me growl, “You won’t be doing that.”

  “You’re saying I can’t have sex with you, but neither can I have it with anyone else? That doesn’t seem fair.” She pouts, and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on it.

  Allah give me strength. Just that sight makes me grind my hard cock against her. “I’m an owner of a BDSM club, sweetheart. Do you even know what that is?”

  She tests the strength of the hold I have on her, but can’t pull away from my grip, “Of course I bloody know.”

  “You’ve watched that film, or read that book.” Everyone has, and a fuck lot of good that did for my lifestyle. Equating play with abuse.

  “And others. It intrigued me, I read more.”

  And just what did she think?

  I press harder against her, “It’s not a pastime for me, sweetheart, it’s the way I live my life. I’m a Dom.”

  “And I’m submissive.”

  She knows? Oh, fuck me. She’s handing herself to me on a plate.

  It’s getting harder and harder to refuse. How the fuck do I make her understand? “If I’m the one to take your virginity, I’m going to hurt you.”

  As much as she can when I’ve got her so trapped, she gives another shrug, “It might not. Sometimes it’s painful, I know, but…”

  “Oh, I can make it hurt.” It’s my turn to sneer.

  Her gaze falters, and she looks away before looking back, “I don’t think you’d hurt me.”

  “You don’t know who or what I am. You can’t even imagine in your wildest dreams.” I tell her exactly what I am. “I’m a sexual sadist.” I pause to let that sink in before adding, “Nijad’s got a dungeon here, I installed it for him myself. I could take you there now, have you under my whip, do all manner of things to you that I would enjoy.” The tone of my voice suggests she probably wouldn’t. Though, it’s highly unlikely I’d be able to carry out my threat, it would break the Dom inside me. I only play with those who like the bite of pain, not those who are innocent and have no idea what they’re letting themselves in for. Abruptly releasing her hands, I step away, moving across to the windows and looking out. After giving her a moment to let my words sink in, and the necessary time to compose herself after my revelation, I speak again. “I’ll get someone to show you to your room.”

  But she’s full of surprises, “How do you know I wouldn’t like those things you want to do to me?”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  “You have no idea.” I hear her footsteps on the tiled floor, “If you showed me, I might enjoy it.”

  “And if I want to spank you? To clamp your nipples? To take you in the arse?” I’m being crude on purpose, she’s got to know what she’s asking for. “To have you under my whip? To put my mark on you?”

  She’s so close now, I can feel her breath on my neck, “Your words are turning me on, Jasim. I want to try all of that.”

  By Allah! This can’t be happening. How much can a man take? It would be out of the realm of all possibility to hope she’d enjoy the same proclivities as me. She doesn’t know what she’s speaking of, what she’s suggesting she’d let me do. I didn’t think my cock could get any harder, but it grows engorged with more blood at the thought of her fair skin being marked by my hand. Could it be possible? Or is she just intrigued by a sheikh, seduced by my robes, agreeing to anything just to get into my bed?

  “I’m not for the likes of you, Janna.” If she only knew how difficult she is making it for me to turn her away. “Leave, now. Please.” Leave before I lose what little sanity I’m hanging onto.

  I hear a rustling sound behind me, and hope it’s her walking to the door. Carefully schooling my features so I don’t betray how much the thought of taking her the way I want to take her excites me, I turn back around.

  Oh fuck. She’s taken off her tunic and trousers, and is standing in her underwear, her arms held out to her sides. Once she sees me looking, she tilts her head to one side, a small seductive smile on her lips, “Take me, Jasim.”

  “Get dressed,” I growl.

  Her mouth drops open, a red flush spreads from her face down her body.

  “Clothes on, now.” I can’t form proper sentences, the sight of her, open and vulnerable has demolished all my restraint. I’m lost.

  She waits for a few seconds, but I don’t speak again. Awkwardly, she reaches down and collects her clothes, modestly turning her back to me while she puts them on. Once she’s covered her nakedness, I let out a sigh of relief.

  Her hands flutter when she once again faces me, and her voice sounds so small it cuts me to the quick, “If you can get someone…” she angrily swipes at a tear that’s fallen down her cheek.

  “Come here.”

  “What?”

  “Come. Here.” She takes a step toward me. And then another. Once she’s within reach I thrust my hand into her luscious hair, today left loose and hanging down her back, tangling it around my fingers, using it to tug her into me. With my other hand I grasp her waist, pulling her tight into my body. And then I let myself go.

  My mouth crashes down on hers, weeks of pent up frustration making it impossible for me to be gentle. When she doesn’t let me in immediately, I bite down on her lip, taking advantage when she gasps and opens, allowing me entry. My tongue invades her, making my cock jerk in envy, and as I get my first taste, I need to make a determined effort not to thrust my hips against her, else I’ll come in my pants like a teenager. She lets me lead, following where I take her, our teeth gnashing together and I just can’t get enough. We might only be touching with our mouths, but this is some of the most erotic foreplay that I’ve ever experienced. Her unique taste enthrals me.

  I control her completely, and she allows me to take charge, instinctively giving me what I need. My nostrils flare as I inhale her scent, her little sighs are the most arousing sounds I’ve ever heard.

  Desperate to touch her, my fingers bunch the material at her waist, moving it up and out of the way until I’m touching the bare skin of her back. I can’t resist sliding my hand downwards, into her underwear, feeling the smooth surface of the orbs of her arse. Fuck, she’s absolutely perfect.

  She moans, and I need to pull away and take a breath, the sound vibrates through me and will trigger a release if I don’t get put some space between us. Reluctantly, I let go of her hair, remove my hand from her pants, and then smooth both my palms down the side of her face.

  Her eyes are closed, her face is flushed, her breathing, like mine, coming in pants. Her mouth is still open, lips reddened from my abuse. And it’s then, I know, I haven’t the strength to run anymore.

  “One last chance, Janna. I don’t do relationships. I play, I fuck. I leave. I can offer you one night. And that’s all.”

  “I’m not looking for a happily ever after. I just want you. To know what it’s like.” She’s got an answer for everything. And she’s saying the words I want to hear.

  I’ve told her. I’ve warned her. “Then you’re going to get what you’re after. There’ll be no going back.”

  Her eyes open, and there’s a catch in her voice. “Are you going to get it out of the way, now?”

  “It?” My brow creases.

  “My virginity,” she puffs out her breathless explanation.

/>   “Fuck no, I’m not Christian Grey.” And it’s her turn to look puzzled, so I expand, “The gift of your virginity is the greatest you can bestow on a man, and I’m not going to take it lightly. The time is not now, and the place is not here. No, I’m not going to get it out of the way.”

  “Are you turning me down?” Now she sounds younger, the confident woman being replaced by the girl.

  I brush back some hair which has fallen over her face, smoothing it behind her ear. “No. I’m done turning you down. For better or worse, and whatever regrets might come later, you’ve caught me.” I force myself to think with the right head. “Janna, I’m going to give you some space. Time we both need. An opportunity for you to really consider what you’re agreeing to here.” I take a deep breath, “I’m a sexual sadist, Janna. That’s who I am. Underneath the trappings of civility, I’m a monster.” My hand reaches out and touches the soft skin around her eyes, “I’ll want your tears, and your fears. I’ll push you to your limits and then beyond.”

  Instead of disgust, trust is beaming out at me.

  “Go Janna, think on it. And we’ll take it from there. Come back with any questions you might have.” It’s killing me to turn her away, but I’d be wrong to push her now. My dick is not in agreement, wanting just to sink into her soft depths. I might be cockblocking him, but I’ll take what I can. Leaning forward, I brush my mouth against her soft lips, a gentle caress.

  Now her eyes narrow. “Isn’t this just you pushing me away again?”

  I shake my head. “No pushing, no more running. I’ll be here,” I promise her. “But this is a grown-up thing your stepping into, Janna. I want you to go into it with your eyes open. Once you give your body to me, there’ll be no turning back.”

  “Will I have a safeword?”

  So at least she knows as much as that. Again, I smooth my hands down her face, “As your Dom I’ll push your limits, I’ll read your body’s reactions. But Janna,” I pause, not knowing if she’ll understand, “if you can’t take what I want to give you, we’ll both be disappointed. I’m not saying you should never safeword out, it would be wrong to do that…”