Sold to the Sheikh (7 page)

I’m his
. Stella’s insides fluttered at his words, even if she wasn’t sure he meant them. She hadn’t felt that rush in ages.

“But we were talking about pipelines.”

Creighton rolled his eyes.

“You know, I get tired of pipelines. All day, every day, it’s pipelines. And really, it’s impossible to concentrate with her in the room, Bashir. Tell me where you got her. Or at least let me borrow her.”

Stella stiffened. Was that part of the arrangement? Would Sheikh Bashir do it? She’d thought he’d only been messing with her in the Black Room when he suggested something like that, but he obviously wanted something from this cretin. But he wouldn’t just pass her around like a party favor, would he? Not after he’d just laid claim to her?

That was one of those things that, in theory, made Stella incredibly hot, but in practice, right now, with Cecil Creighton? No. And, in truth, she wanted Sheikh Bashir to want her for himself.

Wait, when did that happen?

“Exquisite, no?” Sheikh Bashir said, and slipped his hand under her dress, between her legs. Stella reddened; he would feel how wet she was. How she was probably already seeping through the thin dress. And, oh God, Cecil Creighton was watching all of it.

Sheikh Bashir’s seductive smile demanded all of her attention. “So responsive,” he said.

He forced her thighs apart and ran his fingers up and down her slit, testing her. Through half-lidded eyes she could see that he smoldered. Would he take her right there? No, he couldn’t. That was insane. But she realized she still wanted him to, even with Cecil Creighton looking on. The admission sent an immediate bolt of electricity from her brain to her pussy and back again, clearing her mind as she began to grind her hips into his hand. She put her arms around his neck and sighed.

“Christ, Bashir,” she heard Creighton say. It both demeaned and thrilled her.

What has he done to me? Why do I like this?
The thought floated up unbidden and darted away just as quickly, a tiny insignificance in the immense ocean of sensation that flooded through her. Sheikh Bashir thrust a finger into her, and she clenched around it gladly, happy to have another feeling to wrap herself around. Her mind was almost completely empty, making room for more and more feeling. She hadn’t even realized how much anxiety and sadness she’d become accustomed to carrying around with her, and now Sheikh Bashir was able to banish it with just a finger. Somehow, the fact that she was being watched, that she had an audience, only intensified everything.

Until Sheikh Bashir abruptly stopped. With a soft chuckle, he withdrew his hand entirely.

Not again
, she silently railed.
When is he going to let me come?

“Get up and serve us another round, pet,” he said. “Mr. Creighton is running low again.”

Creighton rattled the ice in his otherwise empty glass for emphasis, and the hollow crack of ice cubes dragged Stella back down to earth. She pretended to smooth her dress in an effort to steady herself. Every encounter with Sheikh Bashir seemed to go deeper than the one before, seemed to cast her further away from herself and closer to…what?

Pretty soon I won’t be able to think at all
. Stella was surprised to find that she looked forward to that moment.

“‘Nother scotch. Macallan is fine. You’d think they’d have better scotch at these things,” Creighton said. He didn’t even remark on what had just happened, as though rich and powerful men toyed with women like that all the time. As far as Stella knew, maybe they did.

Sheikh Bashir slipped a hand under her dress as she rose, and gave her ass a sharp pinch.

“Quickly.”

Her spine straightened, and her cheeks felt hot as Creighton laughed after her. It gave her the weirdest sense of
déjà vu
, and she was almost to the bar before she realized why: Robert, of course. Robert used to make her attend events that were almost like this, had dragged her along as a necessary accessory while he tried to conduct business. Only he had always been disappointed in her, and had inevitably laughed her off in the same derisive tone that Creighton had used. He’d hated how naïve she was, how, in his words, everyone could read her face like an open book. Robert would explain to her over and over again that information was the currency of the broker business, and he needed a poker player by his side, not a patsy.

There were so many parallels, and yet she’d been enjoying herself up until this moment, even with Creighton there. Why? What was so different about the Sheikh?

The Sheikh
. It was still too absurd.

Stella’s mind whirred back to life as she collected the drinks and began to make her way back to the little private room with the sliding paneled doors. She had enjoyed the non-thinking, physically present respite she got with the Sheikh, but it seemed important that she figure this out. Thinking about Robert had deflated her mood a little, and she was angry about that. She wanted to hold onto the high that the Sheikh gave her, even if she didn’t understand it completely. Even if it was, in its way, sort of horrifyingly embarrassing. It was still the one bright spot in the past few horrible months, and she only had the weekend, after all.

What
was
it about him? She couldn’t help but think about the Sheikh’s promise: she would beg. She would come on his command. She would submit. What did that even mean? She felt she’d submitted pretty well so far; wasn’t that good enough? What did he want? What did she have to do to get him to…

Wow,
Stella thought.
I’m seriously trying to figure out how to get him to fuck me.
It was incredible that she was thinking like this when he had promised to pay
her
for the privilege. The Sheikh really was naturally dominant, naturally powerful. She couldn’t help but think about how best to serve him.

Or maybe I truly am submissive.

That thought struck her just as she slid open the door with her foot and slipped into the room, and it might have thrown her for a loop if she didn’t already feel two pairs of eyes on her. She didn’t want to embarrass the Sheikh, or herself. She didn’t want to fail at her task, and she didn’t want to reveal herself to be a confused, muddled mess inside, not to someone like Creighton, just for reasons of pride, and especially not to Sheikh Bashir, for reasons that Stella knew were best left unexamined at the moment.

Focus on the task at hand
, she thought.
Focus on serving him
.

That this was part of their arrangement, for lack of a better word, that she was obeying a direct command from the Sheikh, imbued every little gesture with a significance it wouldn’t normally have had. As she walked over to where the two men sat in those wide leather chairs, she let her hips swing and pushed her breasts out. She took pride in the way she bent at the waist and gracefully extended her arm, not caring that Creighton leered at her. This was for the Sheikh. This was part of the game.

And the sight of him, straight backed, hands gripping either armrest, his tailored suit jacket open and relaxed, revealing a crisp white shirt stretched taut over that broad chest…

It was enough to take any woman’s breath away.

She tried not to tremble as she held his drink forward, and, as he took it, she moved her finger up the side of the glass, just to touch him again.

Wow, Stella, get a hold of yourself.
This is not middle school
.

But the Sheikh knew. From the curl of his lip, she could tell he knew.

“Well done,” he said, and Stella smiled.

Then came Creighton’s voice from behind her. “I’d love for my bitch ex-wife to see me with a piece like that, waiting on me hand and foot,” he said. “Just to see her face. Didn’t give her a damn thing in the divorce, either. She probably
is
waiting tables.”

And he laughed.

Stella cringed; just the word ‘divorce’ was enough to crash through the little cocoon she’d built up around herself while serving the drinks. And the Sheikh noticed.

She stood up, more quickly than she intended to. She wouldn’t let them see her falter. Wouldn’t let the Sheikh see her falter. The idea that he would see her like that, broken and hurt and damaged, was just unbearable. It would ruin everything this weekend had promised to be. She didn’t want to be that discarded, unlovable woman with him; she wanted to be the sexy, desirable woman who was worth a small fortune.

“Can I get you anything else, Sheikh?” she said. But she couldn’t meet his eyes, even though she felt his gaze, studying her.

“Creighton?” the Sheikh finally said.

“Yeah, all right, Bashir,” Creighton said, and Stella turned to find him rising unsteadily to his feet. He was drunker than she’d thought.

“Listen, Bashir, I can’t just drop a contract, but let me make a phone call and see if I can’t work something out,” he continued. He licked his lips, and looked longingly at Stella’s breasts. “Those bastards won’t have the money for repeat business, anyway. Maybe I can give you a little information, just between us. What you do with it is your business. In return for a little consideration, of course.”

And he gave the Sheikh one of those hard looks that Stella remembered from Robert’s negotiations. He might be a drunk, but Creighton wasn’t stupid. She wondered what kind of deal they’d worked out when she went to get the drinks, and then realized she didn’t really care. She only cared that it meant she’d be alone with Sheikh Bashir soon.

When did I get such a one-track mind?
she wondered as she watched Creighton fumble with the door. Finally he set his drink down on a side table and manhandled the thing open. He really was drunk.

Stella turned, eager to hear what the Sheikh had in store for her next, only to see him rise out of his own chair. He didn’t even look at her as he buttoned his suit jacket closed.

“I’ll be back shortly,” he said.

“What?” Stella had never been so disappointed. “But why—”

He turned on her. “I have my own phone call to make. You will wait for me here. You will think about how to please me while you wait. And if you say another word, you will do it naked.”

Whoa. No matter how adventurous she’d become, Stella did
not
want that.

“Yes, Sheikh,” she said, and watched him stride out of the room.

C
HAPTER 9

She was just supposed to wait? That sucked. Or rather, it didn’t entirely suck; Stella found that, with even just a little bit of leeway, her imagination began to run wild. How
could
she please him? What sort of things might he order her to do next? He kept hinting at having her do…
things
in public, and the idea terrified her. But if she were being completely honest, it terrified her because it also excited her.

Or what about when he’d spanked her? That was an entirely new kind of thrill. Seriously, she’d been
spanked
. She still couldn’t believe it.

But the real question, of course, was whether he’d ever actually fuck her. God, what if he didn’t? What if he decided he didn’t want to? She shook her head, clearing it of that unbearable thought. He would. And yet, it was another thing she awaited with both anticipation and fear. She’d been so afraid that he’d just immediately get down to it, and she’d felt like, well, a whore, but that was apparently not the Sheikh’s style. By the time he got around to it, maybe she really would beg.

And, more than that even, what about his claim that he would train her? What did that even mean? She wasn’t sure she believed that anyone could ever make her come on command, though the idea was…incredibly hot. The thought of being so completely in the Sheikh’s power made her feel both unsteady and somehow free, as though she had gained the ability to fly, but only while drunk.

She laughed. What a weird thought. And it didn’t totally do justice to the warmth pooling between her legs, or the faint tingling sensation that washed over her skin in steady waves.

He’s not even in the room and I feel like this
, she thought.
He’s like a drug.

And so she couldn’t hold back her smile when she heard the doors slide open. Stella looked up, ready to recite a litany of ways she hoped to please the Sheikh.

Only to find Cecil Creighton standing over her.

“Forgot my drink,” Creighton said.

Stella tried to keep a neutral expression. “It’s over there, by the door.”

“So it is.”

Creighton ambled back in the direction he’d come, but when he reached the little table, he didn’t retrieve his drink. He closed the door.

Stella tensed. It was a crowded party, and yet those heavy wood doors blocked out all sound. And she couldn’t think of a reason for Creighton to close that door that wasn’t terrible.

Just act natural
, she thought.
Keep things normal
. “What are you doing?” she said.

Creighton smiled at her. “I just wanna talk,” he said. “Just want to suss out prices, you know? I’m a businessman.”

Stella moved behind one of the high backed leather chairs, taking hold of the top with her hands, as though she could somehow maneuver it if she had to. She just felt better with something between her and Creighton.

“Aw, c’mon,” Creighton said, and walked toward her. “Don’t be frightened. I just wanna know how much Bashir paid, that’s all.”

Stella recoiled, stepping back until she bumped up against a bookcase. There was nowhere to go, and nowhere to hide, not from Creighton, and not from what he’d just said. Sheikh Bashir
was
paying her, but it wasn’t like that, not really, was it? If that’s all it was, he would have just had his way with her and that would be it. There wouldn’t be all this stuff about how she felt, and her fears, and…