My Insatiable Sheikh - Marian Tee Page 0,16

true, and just as expected, there was a fucking catch. "Fine," I grumbled. "Give it to me."

His gaze gleamed. "Actually, Ms. Teller...it's the other way around."

My eyebrows shot up.

"You will be the one giving me something."

I stiffened.

"You will pleasure me now, with your hand or your mouth - it is entirely up to you. But it has to be now or never."

Hey pumpkin.

It's been a while since you last called. Hope everything's going great with you.

Call me when you're free.

Message received at 1959h from Dad

Chapter Six

Un-fucking-believable, I found myself thinking for the nth time. But if you think it was the sheikh's sheer gall that had me stumped, then you'd be wrong. That the sheikh could come up with shit that was guaranteed to make me blow my top was a given. That was his kick, after all.

But for my body to actually burn up the moment he mentioned blowjobs?

That was what I had the hardest time wrapping my head around. It was as if my whole world just went bonkers wherever this guy was concerned. Just the thought of giving a guy head used to make me feel dirty and nauseous, but the moment it was this SOB saying the words, it was as if I never had trauma in the first place.

It just didn't make any fucking sense, and the whole thing left me torn between virtuous self-disgust and good, old-fashioned lust.

"In fifteen minutes," the sheikh murmured, "we'll be reaching your new place..."

Ergo, I needed to make up my fucking mind in fifteen minutes.

A lump formed in my throat as I tried to imagine how things would play out if I were to say yes. It might mean simply delaying the inevitable, but three days were still three days, and a lot could still happen in those seventy-two hours.

Like...that crazy little idea maybe?

Smarter Side of Me shook its head the moment the thought cropped up. Going down that road is a waste of your time. The words stung, but facts were facts, and I had to accept the reality of things. The sheikh might be attracted to me right now, but who knew how long that would last? Honestly, even the fact that he desired me in the first place made no sense, and letting myself forget that would only be asking for trouble.

"Twelve minutes."

Shit.

I took a deep breath.

To hell with it.

I decided to blurt out the first word that came to my mind, and this happened to be...

"Deal."

The sheikh's gaze glinted. "I need you to spell it out—-"

"Oh, fuck you."

"So that there are no misunderstandings," he said firmly.

"Fuck you," I said again.

"Say it, habibti."

My fingers curled into fists. "You already know—-"

"Say it."

It should have been an easy thing to do, to just say the words, but I suddenly found myself incapable of saying them, and my mind started playing flashbacks of the past out of nowhere.

God, no.

But it was too late, and ugly memories had me reliving the worst time of my life. I was sixteen again, and all the boys in school were staring at me like they really believed I was dying to have all of their dicks inside of my mouth—-

"Story..."

My eyes flew open, and it was only when the sheikh pulled up to the curb so he could wipe away my tears that I realized I had been crying without knowing it.

"Shit." I angrily pushed his hand away so I could wipe my own tears.

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," I managed to snarl out...only to ruin it less than a second later as I tried sniffing my tears back.

"Are you worried about your skills?"

It took me a second to understand what he meant, but when the meaning of his words did kick in—-

"Asshole." But for once, I found myself smiling even as I said it. "I'd never worry about something like that—-"

"Because you are proficient at it, yes?"

He was obviously teasing. He sounded like it, certainly. And yet there was something about the way he was looking at me that made my heart lurch—-

Fuck, no.

And I heard myself ask, "You know about it, don't you?"

The sheikh met my gaze unflinchingly. "Yes."

My blood went cold.

"You are the woman I've chosen to bear my child," he said evenly. "It was my business to ensure I know everything about you."

But everything, I thought dully, didn't really mean everything.

Everything for him was nothing but a sick lie about me being a teenage whore whose favorite hobby was to get down on her knees—-

Oh God.

A familiar sense