Malik: Desert Sheikh Romance Read online

  The sheikh placed a finger on her lips.

  Oh!

  “Trust me, shaqifa.” The last word meant ‘little sister.’ A word that Altair and even the other sheikhs used when talking to her, she thought dazedly, but never him.

  And now she knew why.

  With the others, the word sounded exactly the way it was meant to. But when it was Malik calling Kyria his ‘little sister,’ it sounded like the dirtiest word in the planet---

  Oh, how she liked it that way.

  And so did he.

  This was going to be bad, Kyria thought, gulping. Trepidation, fear, and a forbidden kind of thrill started unfurling inside of her stomach.

  Really, really bad---

  And so it was.

  Breakfast was served at the balcony of the sheikh’s suite, with Malik already seated at the head of the table when she stepped out to join him. Two maids in uniform were also present, with one setting the table while another was busy preparing their drinks. Unlike Khalil, who preferred to travel with a minimum-sized staff, Malik preferred to surround himself with locals, and so upon seeing her, the maids – who knew Kyria back from when she was a child – smiled cheerfully and greeted her with a sense of familiarity.

  “Sabah alkhayr, anisdi.” Good morning, milady.

  The sheikh glanced up at their words, and Kyria tried not to act self-conscious as she felt his gaze on him. “Sabah alkhayr, Dima, Fatima.” She managed a smile for the two as she made her way to the table. In the corner of her eye, she noticed the sheikh nodding at the maids in dismissal, and the two quickly bowed before hurrying out of the balcony.

  Pausing in front of the chair adjacent to his, Kyria took a deep breath.

  Act normal, Kyria Markides.

  She slowly raised her gaze, and at the exact same moment his fingers wrapped around her wrist.

  Ah!

  One tug, and she fell into his lap.

  Her head jerked up, and his beautiful face filled Kyria’s vision.

  Oh!

  It was still too much, and her hand went flying up before she could stop himself. Thankfully, it was also exactly what the sheikh predicted, and so even as his broad shoulders rocked with silent mirth, he was able to readily capture her other wrist before it could connect with the side of his face.

  “You are quite the sadist, Ky,” the sheikh drawled.

  Kyria’s face turned red.

  “And surprisingly, it’s also quite the turn-on---”

  Her face turned even redder. “Malik!” She squirmed on his lap, trying to get away, but this only made the sheikh grin.

  “Relax,” he crooned.

  “L-like I can!” She struggled harder to get out of his hold, but his fingers around her wrists were like manacles.

  “I’m only doing this so that you’d get used to me.” The sheikh spoke like he was the voice of reason; the gleam in his eyes, however, was anything but. It was the very definition of devilry, and oh---

  Would it be a sin if that look in his eyes thrilled rather than terrified her?

  “This is bad, Malik,” Kyria said in a small voice.

  “It is.” His lips curved in a sinfully beautiful smile. “And that’s how we want it, don’t we?”

  Her heart slammed against her chest.

  His head started to lower.

  Oh no.

  His lips, now an inch away from hers, started to move. “Kiss me,” the sheikh whispered.

  Oh, oh, no.

  But her eyes still closed, her face lifting to his, and their lips touched.

  Oh yes.

  The kiss was heartbreakingly tender at the first second, but then his tongue slipped in, and their kiss turned hot and fierce in an instant. His hands let go of hers to hold her by the waist and haul her close, and instead of pushing him away Kyria’s arms went around his neck while her legs wrapped around his waist. The new position had the sheikh groaning her name out loud, and the sound demolished what little sense she had left.

  She moaned against his lips, a silent plea for more of the pleasure that she knew only the sheikh could give her.

  “Kyria, fuck…”

  The sheikh’s hands moved down to her hips, and gripping them hard, he began moving her up and down his engorged cock.

  Arousal and disbelief warred inside of her, and fighting hard to cling to her sanity, she tried to get up, stammering, “We’re o-outside---”

  “It’s fine,” the sheikh rasped. “This whole area is covered by my security.” And with that, his hands tightened around her hips, and even as Kyria let out a small sound of protest, he was still making her move, grinding her pussy down on his cock. His ridged erection rubbed against her folds, faster and harder, driving her mad, making her want more of the pressure---

  Sweet heavens, she wanted more.

  More.

  MORE!

  The sheikh’s fingers disappeared under the loose folds of her robe, and everything else ceased to matter. His fingers found her already wet panties, and she gasped his name. Their gazes clashed as his fingers slipped under the drenched fabric---

  “I’m going to make my little sister come,” he whispered.

  Such dirty, dirty words, words no prince like him should say, but oh---

  A whimper escaped Kyria as a sensual shudder racked her body.

  One finger thrust inside of her, and her eyes rolled back.

  “M-Malik---”

  He pulled his finger out and shoved it back, harder, and another shudder tore through her body, her breasts swelling painfully against her bra.

  And then he was doing it rhythmically, his finger thrusting in and out of her---

  Malik, finger-fucking her, his little sister---

  The thought made her stiffen, her fingers clutching his shoulders hard. “Malik---”

  It was all she could manage to say, the sensations rocking her body too much, but it was enough. He knew exactly what she was asking for.

  “Come for me, shaqifa.”

  A cry escaped Kyria, and as his finger pushed deep into her one last time, her body tumbled into a maelstrom of pleasure, a place where right or wrong didn’t matter, and only the most forbidden feelings existed.

  Forty-five minutes later, and the maids were back at the balcony, the two older women expressionless as they cleared the table. The sheikh was still seated at the head of the table, his handsome features relaxed, and his posture one of indolent satisfaction. Simply put, he looked like a man who just had a taste of nirvana---

  And at that moment, said nirvana was red-faced while trapped on his lap.

  “Malik, this is crazy,” she said helplessly under her breath on her nth failed attempt to get herself released. “Didn’t I say we should take it slow?”

  “That you did,” the sheikh purred. “But I don’t recall agreeing to it. Do you?”

  She tried to answer, intending to tell him he had unfairly tricked her on that score, but as soon as she opened her mouth he had covered it with his, and her body stiffened. Dimly, she heard the maids politely excusing themselves, and though her cheeks heated at the thought of how lewd a picture she and the sheikh made---

  It was too late.

  His kiss, as always, robbed her of logic, and by the time he lifted his mouth she could only look up at him, a slave to his touch.

  “Do you regret this, Ky?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “No.” Even though things seemed to be moving faster than it should be – faster than she felt comfortable with even – she meant it. Swallowing hard, she asked, “Do you regret this?”

  His eyes bored through hers. “What do you think?”

  An uncertain smile touched her lips. “I guess…not?”

  “Fuck guessing,” the sheikh said, and a little laugh escaped her, the sound fading only as Malik clasped her face with both hands. “I will never regret this.”

  “Same here,” Kyria whispered.

  They looked at each other, both believing that they spoke the truth.

&
nbsp; But it wasn’t so.

  For the rest of the week, Malik and Kyria didn’t even take one step out of his suite, with the sheikh determined to “train” her into being accustomed to his presence. Basically, it involved Kyria needing to stick close to the sheikh whenever and wherever. For the most part, it also inevitably involved slaps, kicks, and punches.

  On the second day of her stay, the sheikh had brought his local managers to his suite’s private library only to find Kyria already occupying the room. She was standing in front of the bookshelves, perusing a particular novel, and she had looked up in surprise when they entered the room. She tried to excuse herself seeing that they were about to have a meeting, but the sheikh, who was leaning idly against his desk, only shook his head and motioned for her to come forward.

  “Mr. Carter, please proceed with your report.” As he spoke, the sheikh drew Kyria close, her back against his chest, and one arm wrapped around her waist in a casually possessive gesture. His chin settled on top of her head, the sheikh turned to the now-gaping Mr. Carter.

  “Go on, Carter. You were saying about our stock prices?”

  Mr. Carter hastily resumed his report, nervous but reluctantly fascinated at how the notoriously aloof sheikh was being so openly affectionate with his mother’s ward. Meanwhile, Kyria did her best not to squirm in the sheikh’s hold, reminding herself over and over that this was ‘purposeful embarrassment’ in action.

  You can handle this, Kyria Markides. You must. You will---

  The arm around her waist moved slightly, the sheikh’s hard muscles now pressing against the undersides of her breasts.

  Oh!

  Kyria whirled around unthinkingly.

  SLAP!

  The second manager broke off, everyone turning pale at the tense silence that followed.

  The sheikh stared down at Kyria.

  “I…saw…a…fly on your face?”

  The managers’ jaws dropped. How could the young woman see a fly when she had her back to the sheikh?

  Malik slowly smiled. “Then I guess I should thank you.”

  The managers wondered if they were going crazy. Had the sheikh truly fallen for such a flimsy excuse?

  And this was just the start. More similar incidents followed, and eventually the staff became used to the violent hilarity of the encounters between the sheikh and Kyria. He would come up to her from behind to steal a kiss, and she would end up nearly poking him in the eye. He would wait to catch her unawares so he could sweep her off her feet, and she would end up almost stabbing him in the chest with her pen. To any stranger, any of these incidents would be more than enough reason to send for the authorities, but then they would see the way the sheikh and the young woman looked at each other, hear the way they spoke to each other---

  Let sleeping dogs lie, the staff would think to themselves with a fatalistic shrug.

  Although the days remained eminently stressful for Kyria, the nights were very much the opposite, although this was much to her secret shame. There were also new lessons to learn, but they were of a different kind – a secret, pleasurable kind, and one that she always helplessly ended up begging more of. In the following nights, he had taught her how to surrender to his touch, showed her the beauty in giving in to his mastery and letting him take complete control of her the moment they were in his bedroom.

  Stand straight and let your breasts thrust out. Cup them. Feed me like you know I’m starving for the taste of you.

  Such were his commands, but even though they made Kyria blush all over and her toes curl, she couldn’t help obeying him. It wasn’t just because she knew that he would reward her with pleasure. Mostly, it was also because of how he looked at her, of how he touched her and made her feel. In his eyes, she was a beautiful, irresistible siren, the only woman capable of driving him wild. She had always hated how small her breasts were, but the way Malik could feast on them for hours eventually got rid of all her insecurities. She used to hate being so petite, but eventually these doubts also whittled away, with Malik often groaning how he loved how her size allowed him to pleasure her in even the smallest and tightest of corners.

  Of course, Malik also taught Kyria how to pleasure him, and for these lessons she was quite the eager pupil. No sound was as sweet as hearing Malik’s hoarse, rough growls as she stroked and sucked on his cock, and there was nothing more arousing than the knowledge that she, Kyria, was the one to give him such pleasure.

  And after, in a mutual state of exhaustion in which they would either lounge in his enormous tub or on the bed, with Kyria resting atop his powerful frame, they would just…talk. The first night, they had spoken of Katerina. Rather, the sheikh had been the one to bring her up, and Kyria had bolted up, clutching the sheets to her naked body. Somehow, hearing the other girl’s name made her feel tense and vulnerable, paranoid and defensive, and she hated it.

  Swallowing hard, she said haltingly, “If you’re about to tell me you’re in love with her---”

  The sheikh abruptly sat up at her words, a stunned expression falling on his handsome face. “Hell no!”

  Kyria bit her lip. “I wish I can believe you.”

  “Nothing ever happened between us.” The sheikh exhaled in frustration. “I’m not lying. I know it may have seemed that way, and I admit that I had entertained the idea of hooking up---” When the sheikh felt Kyria stiffen, his arms instantly tightened around her. “It was an idea brought by desperation,” Malik said forcefully. “That’s all. But nothing came out of it. She was always in love with her ex, and in fact she’s gotten back together with him. I’ve partnered with him in business, and Himura’s the only reason that I occasionally hear from her.”

  “But you went to visit her in Tokyo,” Kyria mumbled under her breath. Was she really supposed to think nothing of it?

  “Yes,” he allowed grimly. “I did.”

  Her eyes widened in incredulous hurt. And that’s it?

  “At that time…” The sheikh was visibly struggling to speak. “I was still…raw…over what happened between us.” The sheikh had never been the type to explain his actions, but at that moment he knew he would do anything to vanquish the unspoken pain he saw in Kyria’s eyes. “I seized any excuse to leave Ramil, tried anything that had the possibility of making me forget you.”

  “Katerina---” And this time, Kyria, too, was having difficulty speaking. “You thought she could be one of those possibilities?”

  “I did.” The sheikh’s lips twisted. “But it didn’t work. None of it worked---” He broke off as if he had suddenly recalled something distasteful.

  “Malik?”

  His jaw hardening, he said flatly, “I don’t want to lie to you, Ky. All these years…I was no saint. I know you know I’ve had women, and in the past two years there were a lot more of them. I wanted to fuck all of your memories out of my mind, but every time I did have a woman in my arms, I would close my eyes and see you.” He saw her pale, but his gaze remained on hers, unflinching. “In my mind, I was fucking you.”

  A tiny gasp of shock escaped Kyria, and the sheikh’s jaw clenched more tightly. He mentally prepared himself for all kinds of recriminations, telling himself that he deserved whatever she threw at him.

  But when she finally spoke, it wasn’t at all what he expected.

  “I’m glad.”

  They were words he had wanted to hear without knowing it, and Malik found himself sucking in his breath when he saw the rest in her gaze.

  Desire, white-hot, tumultuous, uncontrollable, the kind that didn’t care about right or wrong---

  The kind others might find sick and depraved---

  The kind that shouldn’t have existed in two people who were raised to see each other as siblings---

  With those eyes, she was asking him to make love to her, and they both knew it. She was asking him to do what he had been dying and aching to do for as long as he could remember, but somehow, a part of him simply knew.

  “You’re not going to take me.” Her whisp
ered words were not a question, and her faint tone was underlined by hurt.

  The sound made him expel his breath, and the sheikh clasped her face with both hands. “No, Ky. Not just yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need you to be sure about us.” His jaw clenched. “Even now, a part of me is furious with myself for touching you. I still feel like I’ve taken advantage of you.”

  “But you didn’t,” Kyria cried out. “You’re never the type to take advantage, Malik, and you would never take advantage of me of all people.”

  Her impassionate defense made him smile, but even so the sheikh said with gentle firmness, “Not just yet.”

  “But Malik---”

  “We’ll both know,” the sheikh said quietly, “when it’s the right time. I can promise you that at least.”

  And so Kyria had to satisfy herself with those words, knowing that it was the last time they’d speak of that topic, and with her worries about Katerina over as well, their late-night talks eventually turned to more pleasant matters.

  Most times, Kyria would succeed in convincing Malik to tell her about past instances that might have given him an idea about his attraction to her. The first time she had asked him of this, he had given her a look. “You really are quite the sadist, aren’t you?”

  But even so, he had eventually given in, just like he always did, and Kyria could listen to him for hours after. He told her of how he had first found her sexually attractive at sixteen, and of how he had rigidly controlled his reactions towards her since then. The women he had fucked while pretending they were Kyria, she already knew, but what stunned her was how he had felt afterwards. He told her of how he would never let himself to be near her if he had just come back from fucking another woman.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense,” Malik said with a self-deprecating shrug, “but that’s how I felt. I felt like I’d end up making you dirty if I touched you with the same hands that had touched another woman’s body.”

  Those words had awed and humbled her, but more than that it made her realize just how much she meant to him, and how long and how hard he had to suffer while waiting for her.

  “I wish I had known back then,” she couldn’t help whispering afterwards. Turning around, she placed her hands on his naked chest and pushed herself up so she could have a better look at his beloved face. “I’m sorry, Malik. I wish I had known so much sooner---”