The sheikh drew his breath sharply. “Ella—-”
It was the first time he had ever said my name without any formal title, and a bittersweet feeling swept over me at hearing him say it. Why did he have to say it now?
“You were jealous,” I said painfully. “But instead of simply admitting it, you chose to hurt me instead.”
Tense silence thrummed between us.
My head bowed as I waited for him to speak. The silence lengthened, and my body started to shake. Let it not end like this again, I prayed. Dear Lord, please.
And then I heard it.
The sheikh’s voice, low and rough, as he bit out, “I’m sorry.”
My head jerked up.
His intense gaze captured mine, and his voice became fiercer. “And you’re right. I was jealous. I still am.”
Tears stung my eyes.
“I know I have no right to be. I know it’s wrong to feel this way, but I was jealous, and I will always be fucking jealous where you – ukhayyah – are concerned.”
For one moment all I could do was stare at him. It just didn’t feel true that he had said the words.
And he seemed to know that for the sheikh, his eyes still holding mine, said calmly, “You are mine, Lady Ella.”
Oh.
Through tear blurry eyes, I managed a shaky smile as I mumbled, “Understood, Your Highness.”
“If it is fine with you…” The sheikh paused. “We will speak of this when I return. If we talk about it now, it will only serve to distract me throughout the week.”
I nodded. In the mood I was in, I’d have agreed to anything.
Also…
The sheikh considered me a distraction.
Me – an ordinary small-town girl – was a distraction to the sheikh!
My toes curled at the thought.
“I do have one request.” When I gazed at him questioningly, his face remained unsmiling, his voice hard as he said, “When I’m gone, I need you to promise me one thing.”
“What is it?”
“You must not have anything to do with the Sheikh of Layla.”
The old, obedient Ella would have said yes without hesitation. But the new Ella, the monstrously contrary Ella that I became when I was with the sheikh, that Ella looked up at him with pursed lips, a thoughtful look on her face as she asked, “What do I get in return?”
The sheikh’s brows lifted in surprise at the provocative question. A moment later, his lips slowly curved into the sexiest smile.
Ooooooh.
Every part of me melted at that smile.
“Come.” The sheikh purred the word out, and my body melted even more. “If you come here, I shall give you a present in exchange of your promise.”
“A p-present?” I was melting, melting into a pool of aching need at the forbidden, thrilling promise in the sheikh’s intense gaze.
“But you have to be on your knees.”
“On my knees?” I felt so dumb at repeating his words, but I couldn’t help it. Everything was so terribly new and exciting to me.
The sheikh’s lips curved as he affirmed, “On your knees.”
“What kind of present would that be?” I blurted out.
“You have to ask, ukhayyah?” the sheikh drawled, wide-eyed in mock amazement.
Oh.
My face turned red as I realized it was that kind of present he’d be giving me.
The sheikh was shaking his head. “Perhaps you need me to spell it out.”
The words alarmed me. “Umm, actually—-”
“Very well then.” The sheikh’s eyes gleamed. “My present for you, milady, is the pleasure of sucking on my cock.”
Oh. My. God.
Sexiest. Words. Ever.
I knew I should be offended, maybe even frightened or disgusted by the offer.
But I wasn’t.
How could I be offended when he only knew and spoke the truth?
Sucking his cock would be a pleasure.
Sucking the sheikh’s cock would indeed be the very best present.
Again, the sheikh spoke, his voice a silky command. “On your knees, milady.”
I sank to my knees, trembling with both fear and excitement.
“Now, come closer.”
Still on my knees, I moved towards him until I was once again between the sheikh’s muscular thighs.
He started stroking my hair, and I shivered with pleasure at his touch. His fingers drifted down, cupping my face, and I rubbed my face against his palm instinctively.
Oh, the feel of his hand on my face.
Hot and sublime, tender and seductive…I couldn’t get enough of it.
“You want this?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Good girl.” The sheikh took his hand away. “Now, ukhayyah, unzip me.”
Swallowing, I nervously reached for the zipper of his pants. I pulled it down, the task made more difficult by my fumbling fingers.
When the zip was completely down, the sheikh said, “Pull out my cock.”
I stilled.
“It won’t bite.” The sheikh’s voice was dryly amused.
Wouldn’t it?
I wasn’t sure I believed him.
As if sensing my need for more guidance, the sheikh gripped his cock with one hand. His other hand went to my head, his fingers digging into my hair. Slowly, he guided my head down, and my heart beat harder and harder against my chest as I found myself getting closer and closer—-