CHAPTER FIVE
It was the middle of the night when I was carried to the plane on our way to the honeymoon. Omar had used me unlike he never had before. After he finished the first time, he hardened almost immediately and even though I’d protested and complained that I couldn’t again so soon, my pleas fell on deaf ears. I eventually passed out from the intensity of climaxes he commanded from my body. By the time he was finished with me, I was literally useless. My stockings were torn and ripped, and even the garter belt had been destroyed. My hair looked like a white trash trailer park after a tornado, and I didn’t even want to see what my eyes looked like. I’d not removed any of the dark, profuse makeup that Yasmin had applied, and I figured I might have looked like a raccoon at that point.
He’d obviously been longing to take me from on top, from his knees, and now that he was able, he’d played out every fantasy he must have had during our separation and his long recovery.
So now, I was as sore and used as he’d predicted, and I wondered how in the world I would be able to make love again anytime soon. I’d said as much when I woke up on the drive to the airfield, and he’d only given me an evil chuckle as response. Then he’d had Armand carry me to the big bed in the back of the plane and commanded me to go to sleep. We would be in the air for a few hours, and I had nothing at all to worry about, other than how I might be able to please him when we arrived.
I rolled my eyes and shrugged as I snuggled into the big bed and fine linens. I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to the joys of private jet travel. It is so incredibly wonderful, I could live in the sky and be perfectly content. The lull of the engines and the total privacy are indescribable. Even on this trip, apart from Armand who always stays in the front of the plane and the two pilots and one stewardess, it is just me and Omar for hours upon hours. I’ve come to relish travel as a new form of intense closeness. We can’t even be disturbed by servants or phone calls, and Omar usually spends the entire time with just me.
This trip was no exception. and after we took off, Omar joined me in the big bed and stripped down so we could cuddle naked. We slept, another intimacy I’d grown so addicted to, I found it difficult to sleep well when I was alone. He held me and we tangled our limbs together in a pretzel of body parts. I was so unbelievably content, I told him I wished we could spend the rest of our lives together, naked and in bed. He kissed my shoulder and said he would endeavor to make that happen.
“You are such a wonderful woman, my Anna. You delight me in untold ways. You please me immensely, and I am the proudest man on earth to be your husband.”
We landed when it was still dark outside, and I still had no idea where we were. I walked myself to the waiting limo and soon we were speeding through an old city with ancient, elaborate architecture and statuary. The sun was beginning to rise on the horizon, out in the ocean, so I knew we were near some sea. Sometimes when we rounded a corner, I would see the masts of sailboats moored in multiple inlet harbors. We continued to drive, and I watched the scenery and to try to figure out where we were.
I finally thought I had it, “Greece. Are we in Greece?”
Omar grinned, but shook his head. “Keep guessing, princess.”
The ocean began to reflect the rising sun, and soon I saw how blue-green the water was. So I figured it was the Mediterranean Sea, so I guessed again, “Croatia?” Although I doubted it and then confessed my total lack of knowledge when it came to geography outside of the United States.
As we traveled farther along the rugged coastline, I saw more and more stucco architecture. Also most of it was covered in flowering vines and roses and then suddenly I was sure. I proudly announced, “Italy?”
Omar gave me a proud expression and nodded once. “I own a villa on the peninsula. This time of year is the loveliest. I do believe you will enjoy swimming in the ocean.”
I clapped my hands and bounced in my seat. “Oh goody! Being married to you is so much fun!”
When we pulled into the long, winding, crushed seashell drive, I really shouldn’t have been overwhelmed with yet another display of Omar’s wealth, but I was. This estate, despite him calling it a Villa, was enormous and sat up on a cliff right at the water’s edge. There was a private beach below the veranda balcony, and a long, winding stairway carved into the rock surface of the cliff. The sparkling sapphire-emerald-turquoise ocean stretched on in every direction.
I let my appreciation overflow as I hugged and draped myself all over Omar on our way through the house. All of the servants and guards were already there, along with all of my luggage that Yasmin had so thoughtfully packed. Like I said, living this way was not a difficult transition to make!
“Can we swim?” I bubbled as I skipped through the massive covered center garden and fountains set in the middle of the sprawling home.
“Of course. You may do whatever you desire.”
I dashed to Omar and went on tiptoe, nibbling his lower lip. “Come with me? Wanna skinny dip?”
He gave it a good thought, and I waited. He surprised me with a slight grin and that look he gets that tells me he is having naughty thoughts. “I suppose I cannot tell you no, given it is our beach.”
I jumped up and down like a little girl and asked the nearest servant for towels. Grabbing Omar’s hand and dragging him towards the water. He chuckled, but followed, and soon we were navigating our way down the stairs to the white sand beach below. The water was incredibly warm as I dipped in a toe to test it. I wiggled as if I had a tail and then began to strip off my yoga pants and tee shirt I’d worn from the plane.
Normally, Omar preferred I wear dresses and heels and that I dress up each day. More so in fact than I’d ever dressed up my entire lifetime before him, combined! But he was understanding when I whined and said all I wanted was to be comfortable. He was even more understanding after he’d sated his thirst on my body for hours previous. So, undressing was easy, and within seconds I was nude and frolicking in the surf.
He took his time, carefully folding his slacks and shirt before setting them on a log near the steps. Then he strode to me at the water’s edge, and I went slack-jawed at his beauty. Especially noticing how masculine he was, even in his walk–how it seemed as if he commanded even the sand upon which he treaded. His long cock swayed as he walked towards me, and even though I was sore as hell, my body lubricated for him.
He stalled and admired me for long drawn out moments, and I didn’t move–couldn’t move because of the weight of his gaze and the simple fact that he filled, hardened and lifted just from looking at my naked body. He finally came to me and led me into the water and the small waves lapped around us and drew us ever outward, until we were finally treading water and gently rising and falling with the gentle swell.
“Anna, I know I often tell you how beautiful you are,” Omar said, “I will never cease telling you how you affect me and my body. As hard as I try, I cannot find the proper words for what you do to me–my heart, my body, my mind–this is what the greats have written about, and I never fully understood those poems and soliloquies until I met you. This is a tragic kind of love that can never be fully explained in words. Do you comprehend what this means?”
“Omar, I love you, too, and yes, I’ve tried to find words–there aren’t any. At least in my language there aren’t any. Yes, Omar, I feel exactly the same,” I replied.
He then said a word in Arabic, and it was beautiful the way he said it and the way it felt as if it were more than one simple word. “That my dear is our word for someone divinely touched, or an angel, or perfection–the way I see you.”
My chin quivered and I shook my head, all thoughts whooshing out of my mind and any words left, catching in my throat. He made a sound of need and dragged me to his still hard and jutting member. Within moments, he’d impaled his body into mine, sheathing himself inside me and stealing the last of my thoughts. I became nothing but his in that moment, and when we both climaxed together, simultaneously, we both gasped from the
intensity and depth of our connection.
CHAPTER SIX
The next few days were a blur of food and sex and great wine. I didn’t dress for almost a week straight, apart from a robe–I was either in bed or in the water, always naked. Omar stayed with me the entire time; he too stayed naked and made full use of me and my easily accessed body and attitude at every occasion possible.
We had the villa to ourselves, and I marveled at how the servants could remain hidden away, never seen, although always on hand if we needed something. Omar took me, owning me sexually, in every room of his Italian estate and multiple times in the water or on the beach.
In this moment, we were in the sitting area that overlooked the beach and vast ocean. I think it was morning, but I’d lost track of day or night since his appetite was otherworldly.
“Now?” I asked and batted my lashes.
“Now, female.”
It wasn’t like I would have to fluff him; he was already obscenely jutting and hard, and as he rotated his hips, his hand insisted at the back of my head and he pushed my face down into his lap. I licked at his shiny, engorged crown and his hand gripped at my hair. He made that sound, and I delved my mouth farther over his hardness, enjoying the terrain of his veins as they skidded through my lips. His pulse was in my mouth, and his big hand at the back of my head was adamant as I took more and more of him deeply into my throat.
He reached down with his other hand and cupped my breast, and then began to pinch and grip at me. He ordered me, “Pleasure yourself, Anna.”
I obeyed and began touching myself, and I continued sucking and bobbing my mouth over all his impressive length. He soon released his desire, and when we were finished, he again told me I was a revelation, and he felt resurrected every time we touched.
I felt as if we’d died and gone to heaven, and I was floating on some indescribable sex induced endorphin high. I hardly noticed the days speeding by until he told me at lunch that it had been a week and we only had one more week here. “We will come back, though,” he amended when he saw my downtrodden expression. “We will come back many times. I promise.”
I pouted, “Why can’t we just stay longer this time?”
“Have you already forgotten that we must prepare for the celebration and your American entourage arriving in just five weeks’ time?”
I grimaced. I had totally forgotten about all of them, and I was momentarily shocked that I had. He chuckled and kissed me, “I understand, don’t worry. I will think for you, as well. I am to blame for the loss of all your coherent thought.”
I gave him a knowing grin, “That is true.”
We were then interrupted by Armand, who looked anxious, something he rarely appeared to be. “Sir, please forgive the intrusion.” Omar lifted his hand and made a motion for Armand to continue and went back to his food. “Sir, it’s the rebels, Sir. I’ve just talked to your sister, Alath. It is bad.”
Omar dropped his fork and glared at Armand. I in turn shot daggers into Omar’s side. I opened my mouth to say something, but Omar lifted his hand in my direction. I clamped my mouth shut, and Armand continued. “There are some issues in the outlying areas of the city, Sir. It appears as if there is a riot developing.”
Omar stood and in the process shoved the big and heavy table away from both of us, spilling the contents of our drinks. He was silent as he stalked around to Armand, “I thought we’d routed most of them.”
“I did as well, Sir.”
Omar dashed a look at me and then back to Armand. “We will leave within the hour. Have the plane ready, call the car.”
I whined and stood, “Omar, no! This is our honeymoon! Seriously?”
He turned to me and narrowed his eyes. “Anna, you will never question me again. Ever!” he shouted and marched out of the room.
I followed him, now not only upset he was cutting our honeymoon short, but also angry that he would so quickly dismiss me and my wishes in the process. “Omar! No! I won’t shut up! I get a say in all this, too!”
He whirled around, and I skidded to a halt from just his expression, “You have NO say in any of this!” He waved his hand dramatically and continued, “You, Anna, will never again interfere when it comes time for me to tend to my throne, my people, and my country.” He strode to me and gripped my face roughly in his huge hand, squeezing my cheeks and hurting me. “Anna, this is what I do, this is what pays for all that you so readily enjoy.” He shook my face, “Anna, a female never questions her husband. Is that understood?”
I began crying, but I didn’t take my eyes off of his. I blinked at him, but I didn’t respond. He dropped my face, and I rubbed at my lip where it felt like it might have been cut on a tooth. He gave me a level look and asked again, “Is that understood?”
I sighed, and lowered my gaze and just nodded once. I wanted to tell him in no uncertain terms I was not okay with any of this. Not okay with his snap decision, and not okay with his rough treatment of me when I did happen to disagree with him. I didn’t though, at least not in that moment. I knew he was much too angry, and I was unsure of what I might elicit. So, I bid my time, and he took my nod as agreement.
I strode away and went to our rooms to pack.
The rebels were back, and our honeymoon was over.
CHAPTER SEVEN
We flew home that evening and were back in the skyscraper before dinner. We were forced to drive through a mob of protesters on our way to the private entrance under the building, but the garage was blocked by so many bodies we couldn’t get through. It was decided the men would surround us and we would enter from the front. This plan worked fine until we were halfway to the door and gun shots rang out.
Omar jumped on me, and I hit the tiled entry area hard. My teeth rattled from the impact, and Omar cupped his hands over my head as his body shielded mine. I screamed when two of his men fell on him, crushing me even more. I heard more gunshots and then screaming and more angry shouts.
Finally, the weight on my back lifted and someone picked me up and rushed us into the building. Omar was furiously barking orders and someone handed him a gun and a walkie-talkie. He shouted into it as well, and then I was whisked upstairs and summarily left in our penthouse, alone. I was crying and so furious that this was once again happening that I considered going home that very second.
A phone was handed to me, and it was Omar, “Anna, are you okay? I am so sorry, my love. I will be back soon, I must deal with this incursion this second. You are safe. Stay put. I will return to you shortly.”
I didn’t get a chance to say anything before he hung up. I went to our room and sat on the bed. I was exhausted from the whirlwind week of wedding and honeymoon and then all the emotions from the news that the infidels were once again destroying the city. And now this. Yet another near miss and either my or Omar’s potential death. It was just too much for me, and I sagged and cupped my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
When I went to the chair that overlooked all of the city below us, I could see small fires and random explosions coming from the poverty-stricken section on the far outskirts. From my vantage point in the clouds, it all seemed very far away and not nearly as dramatic as I suppose it must have been in person. It was the side of Dubai that was never spoken of, and if possible never mentioned or shown even in the news. I watched on in horror as more and more of that area burst into flames, and I worried that Omar might be in danger.
I had nothing to do, so I called my mom. She was surprised to hear from me, and I tried to keep it as light as possible and simply told her we had to come back early because of government issues. I tried to distract my anxiety-ridden mind by discussing the plans for her arrival in a month—she was coming over sooner than the rest of the family to help me get ready. Part of me was wondering if any of it was going to happen, and as hard as I tried to remain steadfast, the other part of me was already thinking about heading back to the States.
Dad had gone back to New York, so she was once again alone, but I
knew she was doing so much better than before just from her voice and upbeat attitude. She’d also started going out more and was taking a Zumba class two times a week. So I decided I wouldn’t worry her with this current rash of violence—hopeful that Omar would bring it under control before the celebration. We talked for over an hour, and by the time I hung up, I’d distracted my thoughts enough to not worry so much about my husband.
Omar arrived back in the penthouse within that next hour, looking weary. I tried to talk to him, “Omar, why won’t you let me talk this out with you?”
He simply barked, “Anna, how many times have I told you, this is not the female’s place!”
“Where I come from, a married couple shares in the stresses and talks about issues–the woman helps as much as the man, they are supposed to support the other,” I persisted. “How can I offer you support if you won’t talk to me? Did you ever consider that I might have some ideas or strategies? I’m not stupid, Omar! I did just graduate from Harvard Law! Or did you forget that? Did it also slip your mind that I was held by, and had discussions with one of the leaders of this group of persistent rebels?”
He shook his head and sighed. “I don’t have time for this, Anna. You are a woman, and like I’ve told you on numerous occasions, women have nothing to do with the rule of an Arab nation. Period!”
I crumpled my chin as I thought. I was angry that once again the rebels had interfered with our plans, and I wanted back the carefree man I’d just spent the previous week with. I finally said in a low voice, and with resignation, “Maybe I should go back to the States? You said it was safe, and apparently you were wrong.”
The Sheikh's Virgin Mistress 4 (Jatar Sheikh Series Book 4) Page 3
