Grateful for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 16)

by Annabelle Winters

  “I love you,” he whispered, still plumbing both her holes with his fingers, gently and with care so he wouldn’t hurt her. She was coming so hard Rafeez wasn’t sure if she’d heard him, and so he leaned in closer, driving that middle finger deeper into her anus as he said it again: “I love you, Pen. I know nothing makes sense right now, but we will make sense of it together. Together.”

  She gasped as the Sheikh’s finger went all the way inside, down to the knuckle. He held it there as he fucked her pussy with his other hand, breathing deep of her scent as she came again for him.

  “Do you love me?” he whispered in her ear from behind, moving up on his knees and leaning over as he felt the need in his balls rivaled only by this sudden need in his heart. The need to hear her say she loved him. It seemed trivial, almost a joke. But the Sheikh also realized that the only thing that would get them through whatever was happening here was trust. Trust, which was just another word for love.

  “Do you trust me?” he whispered, slowly pulling his finger out of her rear and looking around the open kitchen of the newly renovated farmhouse. There were kids’ toys everywhere, and the Sheikh felt strange when he considered the possibility that the children who lived here shared his blood. He had no way of knowing that without running tests, of course. But it seemed right. Why else would Charlotte want these children and these alone?

  Then Rafeez felt a catch in his throat, and he blinked and shook his head. He was going insane. It was all just a coincidence, he told himself. His sister had never had children, because if she had, Rafeez would already know about them. Certainly his father had his security and intelligence personnel investigate at the time. Rafeez himself had ordered in-depth research of the Al-Zahaar bloodline to make sure there were no offshoots close enough to ever contest the throne if Rafeez did not father any children. If his own intelligence people had come up blank, how in Allah’s name could Charlotte Goodwin have discovered that his sister had given birth to twins? And who was the father?

  Rafeez’s mind went back to that thin, bespectacled man who’d stood beside Charlotte at the wedding as if he were just part of the background instead of the groom. But of course he could not be the twins’ father—if he were, there would be no need for Charlotte to do all that wheeling and dealing to get those children. She could have just showed that her husband was their birth father, and that would have been solid moral ground—if not legal—to ask for custody of the twins.

  So is it just coincidence, the Sheikh thought again as he bent over and kissed Pen’s twin rear cheeks, the left and then the right, tracing his finger along her crack one last time before he climbed off the table and walked to the small shelf near the large stove in the open kitchen. He scanned the items on there, smiling and nodding when he saw that Pen was well-stocked with organic coconut oil. He grabbed the jar and headed back to the table, where Pen was lying face down now, exhausted and still panting as she looked at him sideways.

  “What’s that for?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Um, what is that for?!”

  “I am asking the questions here,” said Rafeez, grinning as he patted her buttocks and then smacked her once with his open palm.

  “Ouch,” she giggled. “All right. What’s the question.”

  “First I asked if you love me,” said the Sheikh as he unscrewed the top of the jar and placed it on the table. He smacked her ass again, holding his palm against her skin and rubbing until her breathing told him she was getting aroused again after her climax. “And you said nothing.”

  “Because you were doing those things to me with your fingers,” she whispered. “I could barely see, let alone speak!”

  “You can see now, yes? You can speak now, yes?”

  Slowly Pen nodded as the Sheikh massaged her big bottom, his cock so peaked that he was afraid he would explode like a goddamn fountain, blasting his load all over her naked rump like he was a geyser in season. No. This time he was finishing inside her. His way.

  “Yeah, I can speak . . . kinda, I guess,” she whimpered as the Sheikh pulled her rear globes apart and glanced at her hole, tight and clean, puckered and perfect. Just for him. For him alone.

  The madness of what was happening almost made the Sheikh stagger on his feet as he coated his fingers with the coconut oil and then began to circle her rim with the natural lubricant. The invitation to Charlotte’s wedding, two accidental deaths, the curious case of the twins . . . there had to be a connection. It could not all be coincidence, could it?

  Rafeez looked down at Pen’s pretty round face as he circled her rim with his thumb and forefingers. Her eyes were closed, her mouth twisted in a grimace of pure ecstasy. A few minutes ago she’d accused him of plotting all of it along with Charlotte—some twisted plan to take her kids from her and then kill them or something—or perhaps kill her! And now she was arching her back and spreading her ass for his fingers, soon his cock.

  Ya Allah, Rafeez thought as he stared in wonder at her closed eyes. Perhaps I am the one who is being played here! Perhaps there is indeed a conspiracy, and it is all being masterminded by this American farmgirl! Perhaps I am the target here! After all, if the twins are indeed my sister’s blood, part of the Royal Al-Zahaar bloodline, then if I am killed, they will have an uncontested path to the throne! Perhaps this woman writhing and moaning at my touch is behind all of it! Perhaps it is she who discovered the identity of the children’s birth parents, had both Willow and Randy killed, and then made up some story about Charlotte to confuse me!

  Perhaps Charlotte was never involved at all, the Sheikh wondered as he pushed one finger into Pen’s asshole.

  Perhaps Willow and Randy have not even been killed, the Sheikh thought as his eyes widened in tandem with the way Pen’s rear hole widened when he pushed a second finger into her.

  Perhaps the twins did not even exist, the Sheikh decided as his vision clouded over and he began to drive his fingers into her rear with a fury that made Pen’s ass tighten around his fingers. Perhaps it was a ploy for her to get pregnant with his child, and then have him eliminated! Maybe all these women had manufactured this twisted plan to steal his kingdom!

  Yes, he thought: Perhaps this farmgirl is not what she seems. All that nonsense about having me pull out was just an act, a tease, a show, a build-up to the final phase! Perhaps she was not in the most fertile stage of her cycle when I arrived at her doorstep that time, and she wants to make sure I come inside her when the chances of her taking my seed are highest!

  The paranoia was rising along with his cock, and the Sheikh was now certain he was going insane. Perhaps that was his father’s true gift to the son: Madness, pure and simple! Who knew?!

  “Tell me the truth,” he growled as he slid a third finger into her rear and pumped deep and hard, making her moan as her anus tightened and then was forced to open up for him. “Whose idea was this?”

  “What?” she gasped. “What idea?”

  “Shut up and answer me,” he growled, stroking his cock with the other hand as he watched his fingers disappear knuckle-deep between her asscheeks.

  “How can I shut up and answer at the same time?” she whispered. “That’s physically impossible, genius.”

  The Sheikh would have laughed if he hadn’t been so far gone in his paranoia, if his arousal hadn’t become so all-encompassing, if the back-and-forth between coincidence and conspiracy wasn’t so damned confusing.

  “I will show you what is physically impossible,” he grunted, pulling his fingers out and forcing her to raise her ass by smacking her hard on the rump. In a moment he was up on the table, on his knees behind her, forcing the massive head of his cock into her asshole before it could close up again.

  “Oh, God!” she screamed as the Sheikh watched his thick brown shaft disappear all the way into her, sliding easily between her large rear globes until he was balls deep inside his farmgirl. “Oh . . . oh . . . I . . . I can’t.”

/>   “You can and you will,” the Sheikh said as he began to pump, arching his neck back as he let the arousal take over. “And by God, you already have.”

  24

  The arousal took over once Pen got past the initial shock of his sudden, forceful entry. She’d been on the verge of orgasm even when the Sheikh pushed that third finger into her, and it came as she felt herself stretched so wide she was sure a train could drive through there.

  “Oh, my God,” she groaned as her climax hit as the Sheikh dug his fingers into her rear cushion and drove in so hard she felt the vibrations through every ounce of convulsing flesh. Again the thought came that this was some kind of twisted conspiracy, but then the thought was gone as her orgasm reached up from the darkness and pulled her down again.

  Pen almost choked as the Sheikh flexed inside her, the upward curve of his massive cock touching her in places so deep, so dark, so untouched that she didn’t know if she was coming or dying.

  She felt his balls against her ass as he fucked her, heard him mutter in Arabic, the strange words coming through between his groans and grunts. For a moment she felt she was being taken by some mythical beast, the fleshy avatar of the God-king himself, and when she heard him roar as he prepared to deliver his load into her, Pen was suddenly certain he was going to impregnate her from the rear, the two of them creating some unnatural hybrid of god, man, and beast that would rule the world with an iron claw!

  The image was so ridiculous that Pen almost laughed out loud. But she was so far gone that it seemed to make as much sense as anything else in her world, and so she just arched her back down, spread her thighs farther apart, and reached back between her legs for the Sheikh’s balls.

  She found them, and immediately he slowed down and roared again in primal pleasure as she cupped them and moved back and forth.

  “Ya Allah, you witch,” he groaned. “Ibd din allahi. What are you doing to me?! Who are you?!”

  “I don’t know,” she muttered, realizing that she was speaking the truth. “I don’t know who I am.”

  I really don’t, she thought as she massaged Rafeez’s balls while he rhythmically drove into her anus, the coconut oil dripping out of her crack and down his thick shaft, coating her hands in a wonderfully filthy way.

  And then he came inside her, hard and with power, deep inside her just as she wondered how it was she’d ended up here, godmother to two kids, whore to a Middle-Eastern Sheikh . . .

  “Oh, God,” she howled as she felt his heat explode so far inside her she thought she could taste it. She pulled on his balls furiously as he flexed inside her, his cock pushing against the inner walls of her rear canal, stretching them wider than she thought was natural.

  But she was taking it, her body was taking it, taking him, all of him.

  “Ya Allah,” he shouted, pulling back and then ramming himself in, pouring a fresh load of his semen into her as he dug his fingers into her sides, his hips pressed tight against her ass. “It feels so bloody good. It has never felt like this. Never.”

  “Never,” she repeated, her body somehow numb but fully alive with tingles all at once, every ounce of her filled with his energy just like her rear was filled with his seed. “Never.”

  The Sheikh pumped until he was emptied, and then slowly he pulled out. Pen exhaled once and then sighed as she wondered if she’d ever close up again, she’d been stretched so wide by his girth, plumbed so deep with his length. He pushed her face down on the table, collapsing on top of her, his body feeling like a blanket. He kissed her hair, nuzzled against the back of her neck, whispered in Arabic in her ear.

  “Ibd din allahi,” he said.

  “What does that mean?” she asked, her words slurring when she realized that in all the chaos she herself had come again, even though she wasn’t sure how that was possible while being taken from behind.

  “Ibd din allahi? It simply means I love you.”

  Pen giggled. “You know, I read once that the only time a man is completely honest is the three minutes after he’s blown his load. Apparently that’s the only time he isn’t thinking about sex and how to get it.”

  The Sheikh grunted. “Well, I am already thinking about sex. About which hole to take you in next. Part of your education, you see.”

  Pen felt herself blush as she became conscious that his semen was still warm inside her. It would ooze out when she turned over. It would probably drip out of her all day. What would those parents and teachers think when she showed up at school to pick up her kids? Would they know that this single-mom’s panties were damp from a Middle-Eastern Sheikh’s royal seed?

  “Shit, I need to pick up the kids soon,” Pen groaned, turning to look at the time. “Yup. I should get cleaned up. Get off me, you big oaf. God, you’re heavy!”

  The Sheikh made no move to get off her. “You still have some time, yes? How far away is the school?”

  “Not far. About ten miles down Highway 95.”

  “Public school?”

  “No. This is a private school that’s highly rated.”

  “Sounds expensive,” said the Sheikh. “At least your turkeys are not dying in vain.”

  Pen tried to turn so she could see if he was joking or not. She couldn’t tell from his deadpan voice. “Tell me you’re joking. You haven’t seriously been hunting my turkeys, have you?”

  The Sheikh leaned close and kissed her hair. “I am giving them some time to get used to their new habitat. Get the lay of the land. Exercise their muscles, which have become soft and flaccid from a life of ease and luxury in America.”

  “You’re soft and flaccid,” she teased, struggling once again to turn. But the Sheikh felt like he was getting heavier, and she finally sighed and gave up. “All right. At some point you need to let me up. Wait, what are you doing? Rafeez? Rafeez!”

  Pen screamed as the Sheikh grabbed her wrists and rolled off her, pulling her up as he landed on his feet. He yanked her against his body, holding her arms down in a bear hug and wrestling her over to the radiator pipes that lined the wall of the old farmhouse.

  “Ibd din allahi!” he shouted. “Ibd din allahi!”

  Suddenly the front door burst open and two veiled women rushed in. Pen stared in disbelief as the Sheikh barked out orders to them in Arabic while he held her tight against the wall. One of the women nodded and walked briskly out the door. The other stood silently and stared unblinkingly as Pen felt suddenly self-conscious at being buck naked like a goddamn white cow.

  “Are you fucking insane?” she gasped when the first woman returned carrying what looked like smooth nylon rope. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “These women will stay with you to make sure you do not injure yourself,” the Sheikh said calmly, nodding at the women as he held her wrists out so they could tie her to the radiator pipes. “Once I am out of the country, they will untie you.”

  “Oh, God, you’re insane,” Pen muttered, her eyes going wide as she tugged at the knots and realized they were secure. She was tied good and tight. “Oh, God, I should have my head examined for letting you in. I knew you were insane the moment you walked into my life, and—”

  “Call me what you want,” Rafeez said calmly as he dressed and then pointed at a thin throw-blanket draped over a chair. One of the attendants grabbed the blanket and covered Pen’s nakedness with it. The Sheikh continued as he nonchalantly tied his shoes. “But I was honest with you in that moment. I do love you. I just cannot be sure if I trust you. Not yet. Not until I solve the puzzle of these children. And I cannot do that here. I need to take them back to Zahaar.”

  Pen almost choked when she realized what he was doing, what he was planning to do. He’d asked her about the school. So now he knew it was a private school about ten miles down the highway. That would pretty much narrow it down—assuming he didn’t already know which school they attended!

 
“You can’t just go and pick up my children,” she said, her eyes wide as she stared at the Sheikh. “They won’t release my kids to just anyone! You need to have an ID card authorizing you. There’s no way this will work, you dumb ape! Now untie me and maybe . . . just maybe I won’t have you arrested!”

  Rafeez grinned and shook his head. “What do you have against apes? Tsk. Tsk. So judgmental.”

  “Ohmygod, you’re a psycho,” Pen groaned, pulling on the nylon rope until she felt the pipes creak. But she’d had them bracketed tight to the wall when the house was renovated, and they wouldn’t break. Not before her damned wrists broke, anyway. “All right, look. This isn’t gonna work. No way the school releases my kids to a stranger. And if you drive up in a caravan of shiny black cars and demand they be released to you, the school is going to call me. When I don’t answer, they’ll call the police, who will head right over here and bust through this door.”

  The Sheikh finished tying his bespoke leather shoes. Then he carefully straightened the cuffs and creases of his tailored trousers before standing up and raising an eyebrow. “So it appears we have a problem. What do you propose?”

  Pen glanced at her bound wrists and back at him. “I propose you untie me, walk out that door, and disappear back to your sandpit and sandcastles.”

  “Not acceptable. Try again.”

  “What do you mean, try again? This isn’t a game show! These are my kids we’re talking about!”

  “And they may also be my kids!” Rafeez said, his jaw going tight. “If they are my sister’s blood, then they become my responsibility. I have to know.” He paused, folding his arms across his broad chest and taking a step towards her. “You have to know too. Because Charlotte already knows something we don’t, and trust me, that woman plans everything out to the last detail. So try again. Since I am a dumb ape and you are the brains of this operation, go ahead and try again. What do you propose?”