Page 14 of Seduced By the Sheikh

He rolled onto his side, propped up on one elbow, while she took his other hand. His finger brushed her nipple and she inhaled sharply, as she continued the descent to the one place in which all her desires were centered.

She brought his hand over her sex and he cupped it, bringing his body closer to hers at the same time. She could feel his erection, but he still seemed to want to focus on her.

She closed her eyes as he touched her clitoris. She rolled onto her side and kissed him. She wanted his touch, but she wanted his lips on hers at the same time. She pushed against him and felt him smile.

Then he slid his fingers lower, sweeping them over her moist lips until suddenly he slid a finger inside of her. She gasped. At the same time, he cupped her clitoris harder. From one finger, he added another finger and she could feel the growing coiling and spiraling sensations overtake her until she bucked and gasped and felt the palpitations inside her as she called out his name.

He laughed softly, withdrew his hand, and kissed her.

“We, habibti, are going to have fun in the bedroom. I can tell.”

“Now?” she asked, wondering if tonight was the night when they would have full sex.

He shook his head. “Not now. We don’t have time, and I want to have a lot of time when we truly make love.”

“We really don’t have enough time?”

“No. The cloud cover means a storm is coming. The pilot said we need to leave soon. He didn’t think it was a good idea to come in the first place, but I knew you’d be disappointed.”

“I would have been. Thank you for bringing me here. I know this land has been the bargaining chip with which our marriage has been made, but coming here, seeing it, remembering my grandmother talking about it, it’s made it less of a remote entry on a balance sheet, and something tangible which can be ours together.”

He kissed her. “Unfortunately, neither of us could avoid a political marriage, but I’m hoping ours will grow to be more than that.”

“I hope so, too.”

He stroked her cheek. “What else do you hope for, my wife?”

“Aside from a genuine marriage?”

He nodded.

“I suppose I hope to continue doing the things which made me happy in my own country.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “I worked hard at university. I have an MBA in Business Studies, I’m fluent in three languages and helped my father with government work. I’m looking forward to continuing that.”

He frowned for a moment, and then pulled away, got off the bed, and straightened his clothes. He turned on a light. But he didn’t look at her.

She felt suddenly shy, exposed on the bed, reached over and grabbed her clothes and drew them up to cover her.

“Zak?”

“Hm?” he said, looking out the window. As if on cue the rattle of the palm fronds intensified. “The wind is increasing. We need to go. Gather your things and join me when you’re ready.”

He doesn’t like the sound of her hopes and dreams, she thought numbly, as she got dressed and went back outside to the waiting helicopter.

On the return journey, there was no more talk of hope.

CHAPTER 7

The next morning she awoke, alone in her palace bedroom, as she’d been all night, and lay there for a while, thinking about Zak’s reaction the previous night. At various times during the night she’d wondered if she’d imagined it. But in the cold light of morning, she knew she hadn’t. Zak didn’t want her to work as she’d done for her father. Why, she didn’t know. But if she was going to gain any satisfaction from this marriage, she needed to find out. And what better way than by confronting him? Then she’d be able to address his concerns with solid facts. She’d get her way. She’d make sure of it.

She jumped up and walked to the window, where she flung aside the curtains. It was early and, although their apartment was quite separate from the palace, she could hear people at work close by. Below her were their private gardens — lush and verdant with the water which descended the craggy mountains behind them — and below that, out of sight, lay the city, surrounded by the stony hammada plains which reached out endlessly to a pale gray horizon. She’d like to see the city. She glanced up toward the look-out where the palace blended into the mountainside. From there, she’d be able to see her new country. She’d check that out later. This was her world now, like it or not—and at that moment she was undecided—but she was determined to make the best of it.

A knock at the door made her turn around sharply. Was it Zak? Could it be him, come to make amends for his absence? She grabbed a robe and flung open the door, but it was only her assistant with a trolley of clothes and, more interestingly, a tray of food.

While she gave her full attention to the food, Daria wheeled in the trolley of clothes she’d ordered from her favorite designers. Within their apartment and gardens, she could wear what she liked. But, unlike her own country, she knew she should wear more traditional clothes elsewhere.

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