Sold to the Sheikh (3 page)

His grip around her waist tightened and he pulled her closer. Stella felt her logic, her rationality, her willpower begin to drain away. Her body hadn’t felt this way except during dreams, the kind that woke her with an orgasm and sent her searching for her vibrator. Only this was real.

The Sheikh was still smiling.

“You very nearly obeyed my command to take off your dress. You only just met me, Ms. Spencer, and you did not even know my full name, yet you very nearly undressed when I commanded you to do so. Don’t you think that’s unusual?”

Yes, it’s unusual
, Stella thought.
It’s freaking insane.
She thought back to her ex, Robert: she’d never “obeyed” him in any sense of the word, though he’d never issued a command like that, either. And she wouldn’t have obeyed him even if he had, just on principle. The idea of Robert ordering her to do anything was laughable.

“I really have no idea,” she managed to say.

“Now you’re lying,” the Sheikh said, flashing his bright, white teeth. “I will be lenient now, but if you lie to me in the future…”

He pressed his thumb into her cheek, let his hand fall down the skin of her neck, smoothed his fingers over her bare shoulder, before grabbing the back of her head with sudden force. His lips curled in a sensual smile.

“You will be punished.”

Stella shivered. How could that sound like something she wanted? But her body didn’t lie.

“Listen,” she stammered. “I don’t know what kind of person you think I am—”

He let her go, almost propelling her away from him, and turned toward the bar. Stella loathed to admit that she immediately missed the feel of him, but she did. And she hated that she waited breathlessly for him to speak, but she did that too.

When he finally spoke, he did so with exaggerated patience.

He said, “You signed a contract. I think that you did this because you wanted to, even if you are unable to admit that to yourself. And I think that you are standing here because you are tired of being afraid of the things that you want.”

He turned around, easily stirring the ice in a cool looking drink, and looked at her with an expression of almost bored confidence. She was too stunned to respond. She wasn’t used to sexy, dominant Sheikhs showing up out of nowhere and reading her mind.

“It’s not really all that unusual to be afraid of what you want, Ms. Spencer,” he went on. “But it is, perhaps, unusual to have the courage to face that fear.”

He leaned back against the bar, and looked her up and down. The heat on her body tracked the path of his eyes, as though he were actually touching her.
I might as well be naked
, she thought wildly.
I might as well…

“And now, the time for introductions is over,” he said, and the smile faded from his face. His eyes flashed, and a muscle in his jaw twitched once, twice.

“Take off your dress,” he commanded.

Startled, as if waking from a nap, Stella felt her fingers fumble with the straps, felt her hips wriggle, felt her dress fall, and looked down to find that she’d obeyed an order.

C
HAPTER 3

Bashir watched Stella’s face carefully. His voice seemed to sweep through her mind, clearing all doubt. She snapped to attention, as though in a hypnotic state, and shimmied out of that ill-fitting dress before she’d even realized what she was doing.

This clarity of purpose didn’t last, as Bashir knew it wouldn’t. She was a submissive, but that didn’t mean she had fully accepted it yet. Already, new doubts and recriminations were beginning to play across the shadows of her face. It made her that much more vulnerable.

That vulnerability… He wanted to protect her. And he wanted to fuck her until she forgot her own name.
God, what is it with this woman?

Bashir leaned forward, fighting the urge to leap to his feet and take her, to feel her soft flesh yield under his hands, to feel her lips around his already-hard cock. Her skin was alabaster white and flawless, set off by a plain black bra and matching underwear. She had obviously never expected anyone else to see such unremarkable underwear. Well, no matter. Bashir had little use for them.

“Remove your undergarments,” he said.

Stella’s eyes went wide, and her head began to shake before she’d even opened her mouth. He could see it was instinctual, reflexive. She probably didn’t think of it as disobedience.

He would have to educate her.

“You did read the contract you just signed, didn’t you, Ms. Spencer?”

Slowly, she nodded.

“What did it say?”

He saw that she was trembling a little, but she did not allow her voice to shake. “It says…” She swallowed. “It says that you would pay me, for…”

Bashir winced to hear her speak of the money first. That was not what he wanted to think about with her, with this woman who so mysteriously called to him. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and rose, towering over her, and looked fiercely down at her. It was time to establish the rules.

“It says that I own you, Ms. Spencer.”

He stepped forward quickly, before she had a chance to object, and put the flat of his hand on her soft, taut stomach. Her eyelids fluttered, but she looked rigidly ahead. She was hot to the touch.

“It says that you are
mine
, to do with as I please.”

Her stomach moved under his hand in tiny little contractions, and he had to pause, momentarily overcome by the thought of how she might contract around his cock. He took a breath.

“It says that I have the right to discipline my possession if she is disobedient.”

He let his hand drift lower, sliding down her quivering belly, until he felt the elastic waistband of her panties. He slipped two fingers under it, and her breath hitched.

“You have your safeword, but you do not want to use it, do you?” he said. “Remove your undergarments, Stella.”

Bashir could feel the heat pouring off of her, could see her nipples beginning to harden under her thin cotton bra, would swear that he could smell her desire. She was a submissive, even if she didn’t know it yet. She was a submissive for him.

With aching slowness, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She let it hang from her body for a moment, and then, all in one motion, shrugged it off and let it drop to the floor.

She was his. He hadn’t realized until this moment that he’d had any doubts. His relief was immense, was all out of proportion—he’d only just met her, after all. But she would truly submit, he knew that now. His erection grew to the point of pain as he looked at her naked breasts.

Her nipples were a dark pink, the same color as her lips; two pebbled and pointed reminders of her arousal. Her wide blue eyes were still closed as she worked her thumbs under the elastic of her panties and pushed them down over her hips. She kept her eyes closed as the last of her clothing piled around her feet, leaving her fully exposed.

Bashir sucked in his breath. She was beautiful. Every soft inch of her, every luscious curve, every smooth bit of skin—he wanted all of her. Her large breasts were very real, unlike the artificially inflated chests of so many of the women who threw themselves at him, and very inviting. Her vulva, with only a light dusting of fine hair, was invitingly plump. He wanted to taste her.

He wanted to make her scream.

“Very good,” he said, moving slightly behind her.

He couldn’t resist the temptation to dip down and kiss her neck, just below her ear. She arched toward him involuntarily, like a flower seeking the sun.

Ah,
he thought.
That is one spot she likes.

“And now we can proceed with the evaluation,” he murmured.

Immediately, she stiffened. “Evaluation?” she said.

Bashir did not answer her. She would learn that he would not repeat himself, that her role was not to question him. But he kept his hand flat on her belly, a calming presence and continual connection between them. So she was insecure. That was perhaps not entirely surprising. But despite that insecurity, she was brave enough to come this far. He liked that.

He moved in front of her, sliding his hand up her abdomen, and hefted one generous breast, his thumb toying with her nipple. “And how sensitive are these?”

She breathed deeply, and he laughed.

“Open your eyes, Stella.”

The barest beat of hesitation, and she did. She turned her head, and looked directly into his eyes.

Bashir was momentarily stunned. There was no logic to his attraction to her, to what he felt when she looked at him. He was compelled to figure it out, to control it, as he did with all things. He’d solved every puzzle that had ever stymied him; he would not be defeated by this woman. He could get lost in those blue eyes. Why?

“Have you loved many men?” he asked her.

Her face hardened, but she found her voice. “What kind of question is that?”

He pinched her nipple, hard, and a little gasp of air escaped her lips.

“You will address me as Sheikh,” he said. “And you will answer my questions. Do you understand?”

Another beat. He squeezed her whole breast, and watched her lower lip tremble. She was not like a polished piece of glass, like a metal instrument perfectly designed for his use, like so many of the women he met seemed to be. Stella was real. Fleshy. Human.

“Yes, Sheikh,” she said, and it seemed to surprise her. Watching her come to terms, slowly, with what she really wanted would be priceless.

“Have you ever been in love?”

This time she looked away, and he could see she was fighting back the urge to cry. That was not the emotional response he had desired. Determined to make her feel something else, he dropped his hand and slipped it suddenly between her legs, and grabbed her pussy.

She gasped, her big eyes snapping back to his face. She gripped his shoulder, and leaned into him on the tips of her toes while he held her firmly between her legs.

“So let us start with an easier question,” he said. “Have you ever been properly fucked?”

She opened her plump lips, closed them again. “I don’t…I don’t know,” she finally said. “No.”

Her breath was ragged, dragging over her words in an odd rhythm, and her stomach fluttered. He smiled.

“And you are not of the Volare.”

“No,” she rasped.

“But you know of us. You know what it means to be Volare.”

“Yes.” Her eyes were half-closed now as warmth spilled out of her and into his hand.

“And yet you have never wished to participate?”

“It wasn’t…” She was struggling. “It wasn’t my thing. Oh God!” she said as he dipped his middle finger into her, sliding in easily through her wet folds, and forcing himself deep inside her. She was obviously already excited.

“Until now,” he said, and she groaned.

Bashir wanted to groan, too, wanted to let slip his own lust and have her right there, right then, but something stopped him. She was unlike any woman he had ever encountered, and he couldn’t bring himself to squander an opportunity for something greater, even if he didn’t fully understand it.

She moaned into his shoulder again, and he felt her lips part against his arm. His erection throbbed angrily for release. That flash of sincerity, of openness, when he’d asked about love, had aroused him like nothing in his memory.
Is this what it’s like for normal people? Are they accustomed to such intimacy?

It had both invigorated and weakened him, like a drug. And, like a drug, he needed more. From her. And yet she was plainly guarding some great wound. She’d shut down just as quickly as she’d opened up. Already it was maddening. And already, Bashir knew he needed to help her, just as much as he needed to have her.

“I have rules,” he said into her hair, and his voice, even to him, sounded strained. He moved his finger inside of her, just to hear her whimper, and she fell into him a little more.

“One: you will have no more need for undergarments,” he said, beginning to slowly fuck her with his finger, “because you will always,
always
be accessible to me. Do you understand?”

Her fingers dug into his arm. “Yes,” she said.

“Two: you will obey me, in all things, without question. Disobedience will be punished.”

She nodded as her hips began to move against him. He reached up with his free hand and grabbed a mass of brown hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him.

“Three: you will not come, Stella, unless I command it, and you will come exactly when I command it. I will train you to do these things. And I will tell you this: I will not take you until you beg me for it. Until you submit to my satisfaction, and you beg. And you will beg. I promise you, Stella, you will beg.”

She looked at him with those open, unbelieving eyes. Bashir watched a wave of gooseflesh spread across her naked body, and took his hand away from her. She moaned again, this time almost painfully, and he tightened his grip on her hair.

It was so very difficult not to spread her before him and plunge deeply, blindly into her. But he wanted more from her. For some damnable reason, he needed more.

“Do you understand?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, and her eyes flashed with frustration even as her chest still heaved. “Yes, I understand, you—”

“Careful,” Bashir murmured. “I haven’t decided how best to discipline you yet, Stella, but that certainly won’t stop me.”

He thought she might actually provoke him, she looked so excited. Not of the Volare! She was already playing the submissive’s game.

She licked her lips and took a calming breath. “You haven’t decided yet?”

He let her go, denying her further contact with him, lest she think she’d gained the upper hand. Ignoring her question, Bashir gestured at her dress, lying rumpled on the floor, as he moved back to the minibar.

“You may put your dress—and only your dress—back on,” he said. “Unless you prefer to continue to the Black Room in the nude? I’m feeling indulgent.”