Stolen Lives (Blood Brothers Book 1) (27 page)

“Cara will be my submissive, Jas. As her Dom I will never betray her trust. I will never hurt her.” I think back to what I can recall about those events in Paris, but the black hole in my memory still taunts me. “Chantelle didn’t have a safe word; she wasn’t my submissive. She was an easy fuck, that’s all.”

“I hope you’re right, Nijad.” His response has put a dampener on the conversation, and he seems to realise it as he adds, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is time for you to move on. I’ll sort out your equipment. There’s a new company offering me some good deals for the club, and they’ve got some stuff I haven’t tried before. It will be interesting to see what they can provide. And I suppose you want me to give you the club discount?”

I laugh with him. The cost is not an issue for me. What he’s suggesting sounds intriguing. New equipment that even Jasim hasn’t seen?

“And I’ll be down to see you soon,” he continues, “Maybe get a chance to use the set up myself.”

“You’re not fucking touching Cara,” I snarl immediately. I’ve not been averse to sharing women in the past, but he’s going nowhere near my wife.

He chuckles loudly. “Oh, Nijad. You have got it bad, haven’t you? Trust me, I’ll get you sorted out. I’d love to know how you’re going to prepare her for what she’ll be walking into.”

We exchange a few more words and then I end the call. He’s made me think. I need to have a conversation with my wife. Tapping the phone in my hand I walk back inside to find Cara waiting for me, the sheet pulled up to cover her breasts.

“I suppose I should have known you’d have phones here. I just didn’t think,” she muses.

“Satellite phone,” I reply, and then explain. “It was my brother, Jasim.” I look down at her, a grin spreading across my face. “The gossip has already got to the palace.”

“What gossip?” she asks me, still sleepy.

“That you were a virgin bride!”

“What?” She sits up quickly, fast realising that the sheet’s slipped down and she’s now half
-
naked. Pulling the sheet back up, her face flushes red.

My face now stern, I go across to her. “Don’t hide from me, sweetheart. I want to see my wife.”

She looks up in consternation and I regard her firmly. Slowly, she drops her hold on the bedclothes and reveals her lovely breasts to me. My cock comes alive, telling me it’s time for action, not words.

“The emir is pleased.” I’m having difficulty pulling my eyes away from her rose-coloured nipples.

“The emir? Oh my God!” Her hand goes to her mouth. I can see her cheeks burning. “Tell me I’m not going to have to meet him. Or anyone else that knows?” She tugs the sheet back up and, lying down, covers her head with it as well. “I’m going to die from embarrassment,” her muffled voice tells me. “I never want to see anyone again.”

I’m not going to let her get away with that. I expose her head. Clasping my hands either side of her mouth, I kiss her passionately, pleased with how quickly she responds to me. I lower the sheet further, and my mouth goes to the nipples that had tormented me moments earlier. I massage one with my tongue then close my teeth on it while my fingers pinch the other. Her back arches off the bed. Kneeling up, I shrug off my robe and remove the bedclothes entirely.

“I’m going to fuck you hard and fast, Cara.” I’m already reaching over for a condom. She starts at my language, but the glint in her eyes shows me my crude expression has excited rather than dismayed her. Pulling her legs apart with my hands, I push them back over her chest so I expose her totally to me. When she reaches out, I shake my head.

“Put your hands over your head and keep them there.” I stare at her as she obeys, her obedience turning me on even more. I roll the condom down my prick and run the head over her clit. She’s already so wet and ready for me; I don’t need to hesitate longer. I slide into her slippery heat, not stopping until my base is completely inside. Her eyes glaze over as I start to move inside her. My thrusts aren’t gentle, but she groans in pleasure as I hit her cervix. In this position, it’s easy for me to slide one finger around her arsehole. I feel her freeze momentarily, and then relax, letting me caress her in her most private place. Using her copious juices, I start to push my finger in, matching my plunges into her pussy. I can feel her begin to tighten around me. Her face screws up and she closes her eyes.

“Look at me.” I want to see her when she comes.

We lock eyes; she’s pushing against me now, reaching for her release. Without acknowledgement, she’s allowing my finger deeper inside her arse, and it seems to excite her more.

“Let go, give it to me,” I instruct her, panting myself, holding back until I know she’s ready. I feel her spasm around me, my balls tighten and my cum surges up through my cock, making it swell so hard I see stars momentarily before it bursts from me, filling her, wave after fucking wave. My head drops to her chest, my lungs striving to get much-needed air.

“Fucking hell, that was good,” I gasp, once I can breathe again. Good? I don’t think there’s an adequate adjective to describe the intensity of the orgasm I’ve just experienced.

“Mmm …”

I smile at her languid response and roll over on to my back, tucking her into my side, loving the way she snuggles against me. We lie in a comfortable, contented silence. For a while, neither of us feels the need to speak. Strange: I’ve not been the cuddling type before.

“What happens if I only have girls, or if I can’t have children at all?”

I stiffen as I think how to answer the question that’s caught me off guard, and then chuckle softly.

“Well, if we only produce girls, that’s down to me. Something I may have to resign myself to.” I give her a quick kiss and then, raising myself on my elbow so I’m looking down at her, force myself to look serious. “Or, if you can’t have children at all, I will have to take another wife.”

She recoils from me as if I’d struck her with a physical blow.

“You’d divorce me?” Her voice comes out as a whisper. “You’d stick to the contract? I’m just here as a breeding machine?”

I pull myself up further so I loom over her. My eyes are twinkling with devilment as I respond.

“Oh, I think I’ll keep you. Muslims can have up to four wives, you know. Of course, we’d have to get a bigger bed.”

Realising I was joking, she retaliates by giving me another thump on my arm.

“Ouch!” I rub my arm with a rueful smile. “If you keep hitting me, I promise you are going to get that spanking.” I kiss her again and then lean back on my side, resting my head on my hand. “You needn’t worry, sweetheart. I think you’re going to be more than enough wife for me to handle.”

As she smiles up at me, I change the subject. “I’m going to take you to Z̧almā, the capital city of the southern desert, in a few days. I think you’ll like it there.”

She puts her head on one side. “A desert city?” she queries, curious.

“Hmm,” I continue. I realise she knows nothing about me. “And the Palace of Z̧almā My palace.”

She sits up quickly, her eyes open wide. “You’ve got a palace? Bloody hell! You really are a sheikh, aren’t you? What’s the city like?” she asks, her curiosity piqued.

How to explain? “The city is not too large, more like an overgrown town.” My eyes glaze as I picture it in my head. “It’s built round a much bigger oasis, and the houses are permanent, not tents. There’s some industry and, of course, the garrison. It’s mainly self-sufficient.”

She’s shaking her head. “But I thought the desert was just this; camps like this one?”

Chuckling, I clarify: “This is only a temporary camp. I don’t spend much of my time out in the desert. My work is in the city, and I live more or less permanently in the palace.”

Her next words confirm what I already know. She’s a clever woman, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her head, and guess what’s she’s going to say before she even opens her mouth. She doesn’t disappoint me.

“You wanted me to believe this,” she waves her arm around to indicate the primitive surroundings of our tented abode, “was my future? Living in the desert, with no amenities?”

I don’t deny it. “My father and brothers …” I break off with a frown, knowing I can’t deny my involvement, “No.
I
, together with my father and brothers, thought bringing my arranged bride to the desert first would unsettle her, make her more malleable, more compliant. Take the fight out of her.”

“I was never afraid of the desert, Nijad.”

I nod. “You were afraid of me.”

“I was afraid you would reject me.”

I pull her towards me and place a kiss on the top of her head.

“Never.” I decide to be honest. “I didn’t want a wife, Cara. But I knew I had to go ahead with this marriage, whoever the woman was. Tall, short, fat, thin. All I knew about you was that you run your own successful business, so you must be intelligent. I didn’t know what to expect. And then you, my love, walked into my tent, into my life.”

Under my breath I add, “And into my heart.” Fuck knows how, but she’s already earned herself a place there.

She sits up, pulling herself out of my arms, and looks at me.

“Tell me the truth, Nijad. If you could have had anyone you wanted, would you have chosen me?”

How the fuck do I answer that? Closing my eyes, I gain myself a few seconds to gather my thoughts. The truth is, I wouldn’t have looked at her twice if I’d seen her across the room, and that makes me the shallowest man on earth. Looks are what I’ve gone on in the past, but Cara’s beauty goes far deeper than that. Her innocence; her honesty; her acceptance without question of these primitive conditions in the desert; her bravery: these are the things that make her beautiful to me. Before, I would have gone for a model-thin woman, but Cara’s curves bring me to my knees. No, I wouldn’t have crossed the room to talk to her, to get to know her, but more fool me. I would have missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime.

I see her lovely face, not one that would ever grace a magazine cover, but a loveliness made all the more special by her vibrant character, and that intelligence that shines through. My eyes narrow in appreciation as I tell her, honestly, “Cara, I’ve never met a woman I’ve wanted to have a relationship with before. But you? Yes, you are my wife and, although I didn’t expect it, I’m very happy to be married to you.” I lift my hand and gently caress her face. “It’s a new beginning for me; I feel I’ve been offered a second chance. I want you in my life, Cara.”

She studies me intently, and then a winning smile spreads across her face. “So, what about this palace?”

The abrupt change of subject makes me laugh. “Ah, the palace. Now you know your home is going to be a palace you’ve decided you like your sheikh, yes?”

I love to hear her giggle. “Well, it seems there’s an upside to being married to you after all!”

I can’t let that go. I sit up sharply and pull her over my lap, giving her a playful slap on her arse. Now she gives a full laugh and squirms away, protesting. I release her, but not without a promise.

“One day, Sheikha, one day soon, I’m going to spank that luscious arse of yours!”

I’m interested to see her eyes darken at my promise, telling me that she’s not disturbed by my threat, but I park the idea for another day. I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her back down to my side.

“You’ll like the palace. It’s centuries old. There’s been a lot of work done to modernise it over the years. Particularly the plumbing.” I throw a nod towards the inadequate shower at the rear of the tent and give a rueful smile. “A lot less primitive than here.”

I can feel her excitement. “When are we going?”

“I’ve got to meet with the tribal leaders over the next week or so, and then we’ll head back.” I consider my plans. “Cara, I’d like you to come with me today. I’m meeting a leader called Rais. I’ve known him all my life, since I was a child. He’s a good friend.”

She shivers, the mirth of a moment ago disappearing altogether.

“What’s the matter?” I’m concerned.

“The tribal leaders wanted me dead, Nijad. I can’t face someone who thought that was a viable option.” A shudder runs through her body and I realise she is genuinely frightened. I curse my brothers for telling her too much. I hold her close and kiss her head.

“Not Rais.” I don’t deny that some of them did want her dead. “With Rais’s support we’ll win them all over, and they’ll accept you as their sheikha.” The tension radiating from her tells me she’s not convinced, but her next comment makes me proud of how courageous she is.

“Should I wear my knife today?”

Again she makes me snort out a laugh, as she refers to the dagger and ankle sheath I’d left out for her as a joke. The image of Cara taking on the six-foot burly sheikh amuses me. But for an answer I shake my head.

“No, I’ll protect you, my sheikha.” Turning her so she faces me I take her lips with mine, deepening the kiss before pulling away. “I’ll always protect you.”

A couple of hours later when we leave the camp, again riding on Amal and Sakin, with my customary guards riding behind us, I realise I’ve failed to convince her that she’s got no need to be afraid of my childhood friend. Trying to distract her during the ride I explain the history of the area, and how many of the desert tribes are semi-nomadic, spending some of their time in the desert city where their children could be schooled and medical services are provided, and the rest of the time roaming.