Possession of the Sheikh: (Interracial BWWM Erotica) (The Men of Sharjah Series Book 2) (11 page)

Chapter
Nine

As soon as we returned from our honeymoon, we were immediately thrust into the spotlight.  With Amir having vacated his position and then promptly disappearing, Sharjah was experiencing a political crisis of sorts, tempered only by Khalil’s return and Malik’s agreement to fulfill Amir’s duties in the interim. 

We’d barely settled into Khalil’s home, and already we were attending a charity benefit that would bring in millions for Amir’s clean water initiative, which he’d started to ensure Sharjah’s nomadic tribes did not continue to suffer such devastating losses the next time a drought hit or an oil refinery had a spill.  It was a critical project that would advance society in Sharjah as well as develop infrastructure, so we could not cancel after so many months of planning. 

While Malik now served as Sharjah’s figurehead, it was Khalil who saw to the day to day running of the government, so unfortunately like most figureheads, Malik was ignorant of many of the details that tonight’s investors would want to know, hence why Khalil had been required to attend, and as his new, blushing bride, that meant I had to as well. 

I hated functions like these so I stood off to the side, mingling and chatting with others along the fringes, but never once joining the crush of people toward the center.  Khalil knew how I felt, so while he checked on me periodically, he respected my wishes and didn’t pressure me to walk around with him.  Malik on the other hand insisted on trying to get me to dance every chance he could, just because he knew his requests would irritate me.  Eventually he’d left me alone, but only after I’d threatened him with some very choice words. 

As if he knew he’d just flickered through my thoughts, the second eldest of the al-Aziz monarch line glanced in my direction.  A charming grin spread across his face as he gave me a quick wink.  Chuckling under my breath, I rolled my eyes at Malik’s silly antics before turning away.   Like all the al-Aziz men, Malik was handsome, arrogant and wickedly charming.  As the second eldest, he’d been groomed alongside Amir to one day assume the position of regent—and because of Sharjah’s tumultuous past it had always been prudent to do so.  True to his upbringing, Malik had proven to be very capable at his duties and had successfully managed Sharjah’s affairs in Amir’s absence, and while Khalil and I were on our honeymoon. 

Having known Malik all my life, I knew running a country was the last thing he wanted to do, which was why he’d been so relieved when Khalil had returned, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until Amir did as well. 

At thirty-five, Malik was still enjoying his playboy lifestyle, and from what I could tell given the endless string of women I saw practically every morning sneaking out of the palatial compound, I would say he had no plans on giving that lifestyle up anytime soon.  So I knew it was only Malik’s sense of duty that kept him in the capital, just as surely as I knew he was already plotting to drag Amir home so he could once again return to his duties in the Sharjahinian military where he served as a reconnaissance pilot and intelligence officer.  Malik’s affinity for all things wild, uninhibited and unrestrained was what defined his free-spirited nature, and by the way he constantly kept tugging on his tuxedo collar, I could already tell he was beginning to chafe under all the restrictions that came with being Sharjah’s head of state.

With the night’s events winding down, I decided I could slip away unnoticed for a moment, so I walked out onto the terrace that overlooked the capital, and allowed myself to disappear into the shadows.  I wasn’t shy, actually as the eldest daughter, I’d often played hostess or escorted my father to events just like these, and as Amir’s betrothed, I’d been groomed to stand by his side just as I’d done with my father.  But just because I was very capable of being the perfect hostess, didn’t mean I liked it.  Every time I had to attend these events, I couldn’t help but miss my mother who’d died when I was twelve.  The daughter of a prominent Ethiopian dignitary, Nyala al-Mujaher had been so beautiful and poised, and as a child I’d always loved watching her as she prepared her hair and makeup, all while waiting anxiously until she’d finally reveal the dress she would wear for her evening out with my father.  It had become a game to us, with me guessing the color and the style of her gown by the way she did her hair or from the colors of her makeup and accessories, but with every guess I made, my mother would simply smile, and then tell me I would just have to wait and see. 

I always ooed and awed when finally she would enter the bedroom dressed for the evening, and twirl before me, saying with laughter in her eyes, “What do you think, Nala?”

Nala. 
That had been her nickname for me because as her first child I was very special to her—I was
beloved
.  And she never once let me forget that.

After she’d died I’d refused to be called by that name ever again, even my father who’d protested the loudest, had eventually accepted my decision.  As the balmy air stroked my skin, I couldn’t help but smile.  Khalil had been the only one who’d ignored my decree.  He’d never stopped, even though every single time he used it, I told him not to.  I bit back a wry smile. More than twenty years later he was still calling me Nala and I was still telling him to stop. 

The terrace door opened and I turned at the sound of two female voices.  Cloaked in the shadows and standing in the corner, I knew they couldn’t see me.  I was just about to step forward to make my presence known when I heard Khalil’s name.  I froze thinking one or
both
were former lovers, but as I listened I decided neither one had been, although from their envious tones, I could definitely tell they’d wanted to be.

“See, that’s your problem, you always go for the wild ones.” With the darkness and the distance, I couldn’t make out their faces, but from their silhouette’s I could see the one who now spoke had her hair in an upsweep.  “You can have Malik.  Now, Khalil,
he’s
the one you want.  It’s a shame he’s now married.”

“Uh uh, I heard he was a freak, and not your average run of the mill kind, either.” Her friend had her hair down, which swept against her shoulders as she talked, and given what she was saying, it was
her
who I focused on the most.  “I know a woman who used to date him, she said he’s into all kinds of freaky stuff, whips and chains stuff.  It’s crazy.  She says he has a private room in his home that he keeps locked all the time, and that’s where he tortures women.”

Miss Upsweep laughed, and had I been her, I might have laughed too, but I knew her friend was telling the truth.  On the lower level of his home, at the end of the hallway, there
was
a door he kept locked constantly.  I hadn’t asked Khalil about it because I’d already guessed what was inside. 

What nagged me now was what had bothered me about that room since we’d been back, and that was he still hadn’t told me about it; and despite that we’d made love every single day since returning home, not once had he hinted at us ever using it.

At that moment the doors to the terrace swung open and two more guests filed out.  Miss Upsweep and her friend hurried inside, and after giving them a few seconds head start, I followed suit.  When I returned to the main room, I saw that the event was over.  

Khalil and Malik soon caught up with me, and the three of us left to pile into the limo together and return to the palace estate.  Khalil kept a residence on the estate grounds, but separate from the palace residence, so the limo dropped us off at his home first.  Malik was staying in one of the apartments in Amir’s main residence, but I had my suspicions that the driver would not be taking Malik back there just yet, considering it was now after ten o’clock and his phone had been constantly blowing up from incoming text messages.   

“You’ve been unusually quiet,” Khalil said as soon as we were alone inside the master bedroom.  “Did something happen tonight?” As he spoke, his fingers lowered the zipper of my dress, and once the seams parted, he filled his hands with my lace-clad breasts as he trailed his lips along my neck.

I shuddered as my pussy began to throb.  I wanted to mention what I’d overheard earlier but it didn’t seem so important anymore, actually nothing was more important than what he was doing to me now.  So instead of answering him, I twisted in his arms and claimed his mouth with mine, loosing myself first to his searing kiss and then to his powerful body as he made slow, languorous love to me until Miss Upsweep and her friend’s comments on the terrace were long forgotten.

*****

The next day was a whirlwind like all the rest. We both awoke early, with Khalil heading straight to the government wing that conjoined the residential quarters where he would spend all day working alongside Malik, while I went into the firm, where I was still trying to catch up.  I didn’t return until late that evening, and when I did I wasn’t surprised to discover that Khalil had passed out on our bed, still fully clothed.  It was only seven, so I knew he would be up in an hour because I doubted he’d eaten dinner before falling asleep. 

I quickly changed and prepared a quick dinner for us both.  Once I was done, I fully intended to open my laptop and do a little work until Khalil awakened, but when I sat down at the informal dining table adjacent to the kitchen, that’s when I noticed Khalil’s keys just lying there. 

I should have ignored them.  Later I would realize that had I done so, I would have been much better off for it—but my curiosity once roused, it always got the best of me.  Before I could change my mind, I grabbed the keys, and headed downstairs until I stood before the door that was always locked.  Khalil had asked me if there was anything wrong and as I fumbled with the keys trying each one in the lock, I considered that maybe I should have just spoken up and told him what was bothering me.  In that moment I considered abandoning my foolishness.  My hands were now shaking and there were only two keys left. Grabbing the second to last key, when I turned it and heard the distinct sound of a lock unlatching, I figured I’d already gone too far to stop now.

My heart was beating furiously as I twisted the knob and slowly pushed the door open.  Shrouded in darkness, I didn’t know I was holding my breath until I flipped the light on and gasped as a soft tawny glow illuminated the intimate space.

Although the time we’d spent together had been brief, over the course of those few days in that hotel room, Khalil had mentioned having in his possession a collection of items such as a flogger, various whips, leather bindings and chains.  As I stared at those very objects all hanging from one of the walls—along with some items I’d never seen before—I could see now Khalil hadn’t exaggerated.  Back then I’d gotten the impression they were more accessories to his sexually dominant nature, but if the king sized bed that was draped in red satin sheets and the swing that was now poised at the foot of it were any evidence, then I would say these accessories had become more of the main thrill.

In that moment all of my insecurities rose up inside of me.  And despite that I was no longer an inexperienced virgin, standing in Khalil’s secret room made me feel inadequate all over again. 

I knew it was ridiculous—stupid even.  Before he’d dumped me, I’d never felt like my inexperience had been a problem, but afterward, I would find myself haunted by it.  Had I not satisfied him, fulfilled his needs? Had my innocence been the reason he’d found me lacking and walked away?  With the passing of time and maturity, and after being in other relationships, I’d eventually put the insecurities of my youth behind me—or so I’d thought. 

And once the doubt crept in, I had to wonder—if Khalil needed all
this
, how could he ever be satisfied by
me
?  If this was what brought him pleasure, then why wouldn’t he share this with me, unless he didn’t think we could be completely and totally uninhibited together in this space—which meant that our sex life was a lie.

I almost laughed out loud at the irony.  We’d married one another with neither love, nor trust as our foundation, but at least there had been great sex—and now we didn’t even have that.
Which left our marriage where?

I spun around to flee, desperate now to leave that room, but before I could take two steps I halted because there in the doorway stood Khalil, with his arms folded across his bare chest, wearing an expression that was so hard it could have cut through steel. 

*

Khalil stood there and waited silently, patiently. 

When he’d awakened to the aroma of cooking food, he’d quickly showered and headed downstairs expecting to be greeted by his wife who he’d been eager to lay eyes upon and take into his arms.  So he’d been surprised to discover she was nowhere downstairs in the kitchen or dining area, and he’d already known she wasn’t upstairs in their living area either.  After checking the office, he’d gone downstairs, and once he got down there he knew exactly what he would find.

She hadn’t noticed him for several seconds, so she didn’t know that as he’d watched her he’d seen the tension knotting her shoulders, and her hands balling tight into fists.  When she’d finally turned and faced him, he still wasn’t certain of what to say.  Somehow she’d learned about this room, and she’d gone snooping, which wouldn’t trouble him so much, if he could figure out why she would do that instead of simply talking him.  And now she appeared angry, which was even more troubling, because she knew who he was and what he was, she knew this side of him very intimately.