The Sheik's Virgin Lover (The Sisterhood) (7 page)

“No,” she said, her head shaking back and forth, her entire body starting to shiver both in anticipation that he would follow through, and the fear that he wouldn’t.

“Yes,” he argued, his hand reaching up and touching the bare skin underneath her blouse, skin that was already primed from his touch only moments ago. “I could make you beg,” he claimed.

Emma knew they were no longer talking about lunch or transportation. “Please, Dharran, don’t do this,”

“Why not? I could make you want it and forget about all your responsibilities. And you could make me forget all about mine as well.”

“Only for a little while. Then we’d regret it.”

“I wouldn’t ever regret making love to you, my kitten.”

She shuddered as his hand moved upward, and around to the side, his thumb resting just below her breast. “Please Dharran. I can’t fight you on this level. I don’t know how.”

He was still for a long moment, her heart racing as she watched the emotions race across his normally stern features. Her body was waiting, taut as a bow string, wondering if his hand would move that fraction of an inch needed to touch her breast, or if he would respect her wishes and pull his hand away. She honestly wasn’t sure which she wanted more. He released her and she almost stumbled backwards, might have fallen if his strong hands hadn’t grabbed her to steady her. “I’ll call my car,” he said.

Emma thought it was best not to argue about the ride at this point. She just wanted to get back to the center and recover from his devastating touch. She was aching inside and could barely stand on her trembling knees.

The ride back to the center took significantly less time than her bus ride over since it was much more direct and not necessary to stop at just about every corner. The luxury inside the limousine was almost inconceivable to Emma who was used to finding uses for discarded items, recycling and reusing everything to save money.

“What’s going on?” Dharran asked as they pulled up and a delivery truck was busy unloading tables and chairs while another was setting up colorful tents in the parking lot.

Emma’s spirits brightened and she found relief in focusing on something other than the dynamic, terrifying man beside her. “We’re having a fundraising event this weekend. There’s going to be a moon bounce and face painting for the kids, a dunking machine, a bake sale, a baseball and basketball game competition, lots of things. It’s going to be a lot of fun. We invited the mayor and several city council members although none of them have confirmed their attendance yet. They usually wait until the last minute in case something better comes along,” she said with a grimace of acceptance. “I’m really grateful I’m not in politics,” she laughed.

“Are you going to invite me?” he asked seriously.

Emma looked up at him and her heart tripped several beats. “It won’t really be your cup of tea.”

“You don’t know what I like to drink.”

She scoffed. “Please. This will be a much more crazy than the events you generally patronize.” She stepped out of the limousine and started to turn back to him but he was already standing next to her. One of his body guards walked up in that same moment and handed her a fancy bag. Looking inside, she noticed the logo of the restaurant on the top and she chuckled. “You cheat when you want to get your own way, don’t you?”

He looked down at her, his eyes hard and mysterious. “I find ways to achieve my goals.”

“And right now your goal is to make sure I eat whatever is in this bag instead of a basic sandwich.”

He leaned forward slightly. “Right now, my goal is to get you into my bed and begging me to be inside of you, making you scream out my name as you climax over and over again.”

Emma couldn’t speak, she just stared up at him silently. He bent down and kissed her open mouth, his tongue exploring her mouth, his lips sucking her own and creating a sensual assault that left her mind utterly blank. A moment later, he stepped back and ducked into the car. “Goodbye for now, my kitten.”

The limousine backed up and drove off, before she could counter that she wasn’t “his” anything. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there staring in the direction the car had disappeared, the restaurant bag hanging from her limp fingers.

“He’s pretty hot, Ms. Em,” Genevieve said as she and her friends sauntered up, book bags over their shoulders. “You gonna get him?”

The question broke her trance and she jumped, spinning around. “Get him?” she asked, wondering what they were actually asking of her.

“Yeah, you going to jump him?”

“Absolutely not!” she claimed.

Beth smiled gaminely, “Can I have a go at him then?”

“He’s much too old for any of you,” Emma stated firmly. “Don’t you girls have homework?”

“Sure we do. It would be really nice to have him as a tutor though,” Beth teased.

Emma shook her head and walked away. “I’ll tutor you ladies in any subject that’s relevant.”

As she walked away, she heard one of them say, “I’m not sure Ms. Em knows how to tutor in the main subject,” and the three others laughed.

Emma didn’t doubt them at all, so she didn’t take offense. Walking into the center, she headed straight for the kitchen. Sure enough, the last of the grilled cheese sandwiches were being cut up for afternoon snacks for the homework crowd, first come first served.

She peeked in the bag, wondering what kind of lunch Dharran had provided for her, then at the grilled cheese. Her curiosity was intense but so was her desire to win the argument, even though it was sort of a mute point at this stage.

When she smelled the enticing aromas coming from the box, she couldn’t hold out any longer. Lifting the box up, she peeked inside and was touched by the chicken pesto sandwich. It smelled wonderful and her empty stomach rebelled against simply putting it back in the box to spite Dharran and his dictatorial manner. Deciding to pick her battles, she lifted the sandwich and took a bite, savoring the delicious burst of flavor from the perfectly grilled chicken and subtle basil pesto.

Sitting down on the old metal chair, she enjoyed the sandwich, all the while, plotting out various ways to get back at him for manipulating her the way he had today. She should probably try and figure out what to do about transportation, but that problem was just a bit too overwhelming for her right at the moment. One issue at a time, she told herself.

Chapter 4

The heat was pretty intense, Emma thought as she pulled her black cotton shirt away from her black cotton tee-shirt. That color definitely wasn’t the best for a mid July afternoon but she had planned her wardrobe carefully this morning, knowing that the center’s big fundraising event was coming up. A hat at least kept the sun off her eyes but she was still wilting under the mid July heat and humidity. Summers in Washington, D.C. were always tough but today was especially brutal. The black asphalt was only adding to the heat, feeling as if the black tar was absorbing the sun’s heat and melting everyone’s rubber soles and then radiating the remaining heat back into the air.

The only consolation was the amazing turnout for the festival. It seemed like the entire neighborhood was out in full force enjoying the bake sales and good natured rivalries. The atmosphere was supposed to be like a state fair but they didn’t have farm animals so the families brought out their dogs and cats, and one hamster for the ritual judging. One of the out-of-work handymen from two streets over had even built a little platform for the animal judging, which Emma realized she could use for a stage with the kids for later events. She walked over to Mr. Harmon, the man who had built the stage and touched his shoulder. “You did an excellent job there, Mr. Harmon,” she said, smiling at the man who hadn’t aged well in this environment of violence and hardship.

His chest puffed up with pride and he smiled at his accomplishment. “It looks pretty good, don’t it?” he agreed. “You just call me anytime you need something. My little Ellie is starting to apply to colleges, thanks to you. Hopefully she can get out of this rat race and make something of herself.” His eyes became a bit teary and he fought back the emotion as he thought about his only surviving granddaughter.

The bake sale was in full swing, the chili contest contestants were busy cooking to the left, the animals were exhibited to the right, a moon bounce, dunking tank and pie throwing contest was at the opposite end and several of the people from the neighborhood were selling their wares such as quilts, jams, embroidered items or other home made items. She was scheduled to be a target for the pies in five minutes so she really had to hurry but took a moment to look around, happy that things were turning out so well. No alcohol was allowed and even some of the gangs were showing up, accompanied by Father Mike to avoid problems. All their parents were there which, although wasn’t a guarantee for a peaceful afternoon, was a strong deterrent for any violence.

Her moment to savor the peace and success was sweet, but unfortunately short. She was turning to head towards the pie throwing area when her eyes collided with a pair of dark, intense ones. When Dharran had arrived here, or why, she had no idea. But her stomach did a silly little flip flop when she noticed him and her heart increased possibly triple time. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the pipe line, then back his way, and realized that she really needed to speak with him and welcome him to the festivities. And ask him how long he was going to be here. There were undercover police officers roaming the area, but she still worried about him being in this kind of environment, even with his body guards. It just wasn’t safe for someone like him to be out in the open like this with so many people milling about.

Walking up to him, she smiled brightly up at his stern expression. “Good afternoon,” she greeted him, turning to the guards as well to encompass all of them in her greeting. “Welcome back. I’m glad you were able to make it today but are you sure….” She stopped when his eyebrow went up before she could even finish the question. “Fair enough.” Turning back to the crowd, noting that several people were watching them and obviously starting to wonder who the tall, well dressed man was and why their director was taking so much of an interest in him, she smiled up at him. “Welcome. We’re very glad you were able to take the time out of your busy day to have a little fun,” she said, as professionally as she could since several of the study group girls were heading in this direction.

He stepped forward, so that her focus was only on him, a subtle but effective way of excusing the rest of his entourage from their conversation. She noticed the guards weren’t insulted at all, and in fact turned to look around at the crowd, their sunglass covered eyes probably skimming all the people in the near and far areas for threats.

“You look lovely,” was all he said, tactfully realizing that she was in her role as the director. He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, ignoring the slight resistance as she braced herself for the impact of his touch. “I’m impressed with what you have accomplished in such a short period of time. None of this was around three days ago when I last visited.”

Emma tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t let her, instead tucking it into the crook of his arm. “I didn’t do all of this. The teens actually did most of the work. They’re the ones who want the swimming pool so I told them if they wanted it, they had to figure out how to raise the money for it.”

His eyebrows rose at that and she laughed. “It’s true, although most people don’t believe what these kids can do when properly motivated. I only organized the committee meetings and helped them stay focused, avoided any arguments that sidetracked the discussions. They’re the ones who came up with the ideas and followed through with the activities.”

He looked around and frowned. “Where would a pool be built?”

Emma pointed across the street. “See that building on the other side of the block?”

“The one with the red and black bricks and the windows hanging down the side of the building?” he asked.

“That’s the one. The ground is soft enough for the digging but with enough foundation surrounding it to hold an indoor pool. The city agreed to pay for half if they raised the rest of the money both for the construction and maintenance.”

He looked down at her, his eyes showing his respect. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t look at me. The kids did it,” she said, although she was breathless with the intensity of his look. It made her feel all queasy inside. “I don’t agree that governments should take care of everyone’s needs. People around here need to feel like they’re in control to make things better. Not the government or police.”

“A bit radical, don’t you think?”

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Not at all. The United States is built on a culture of people doing things for themselves and fixing our own problems, taking control when faced with a direction they don’t agree with. We shouldn’t wait for the government to fix things. We’re all fully capable of creating opportunities for ourselves.”

He chuckled. “You really should run for public office,” he said. “You would lose, but at least you would have a bigger voice for your opinions.”

She shrugged. “I don’t need a louder voice, just one that helps a small part of the world.”