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Back to the prison that was his desert palace.
Chapter Two
Mahindar clenched the steering wheel, his pulse roaring in his ears as he glanced at his gorgeous and totally reckless young bride.
Thanks to the sandstorm the little chit could have veered off the almost non-existent road and never been found. Or someone fickle and disloyal might have found her. That she was still dressed in all her lavish wedding finery would likely have made her a target. Hell, the tiara alone was a six figure item.
That she’d put her life at risk to escape from him—a sheikh who’d been on the cover of Forbes and who had women falling over themselves for his attention—set his blood to boiling point.
How was it possible that this scrap of a woman who hated him so thoroughly had captured his attention so effortlessly? Yes, she was beautiful, but then, so had all of his past lovers. What she had was something far more elusive. Something untamed and unrefined, so different to those women who were polished to mere shells of their former selves.
Even now, with his temper barely in check, it took everything he had not to stroke her exquisite body, not to touch her many shades of natural, espresso-colored hair, with its waves that had defied a hairdresser’s earlier attempts at straightening into submission.
His dick jerked at her subtle, warm cinnamon scent. That he lost control of his libido around her showed how easily he was losing grip of his iron-clad will. He took pride of being in control at all times, and if he wasn’t careful his wife would weaken everything he’d worked so hard to sustain.
“Whatever you have planned for me, don’t for a second imagine I will break.”
He stifled a groan at her outspoken resolve. That their marriage would be a battle of wills sent waves of wild anticipation and adrenaline through him even as he surreptitiously sucked in another, deeper breath of her delicious scent.Fuck.A part of him might want his wife to submit to him, but another part loved even more her independence and fiery spirit.
He didn’t want a biddable, well trained wife. He wanted someone intelligent and headstrong, someone with the courage to speak her mind…someone who’d eventually give those same magnificent traits to his children.
You asked for it. Now you get to deal with it.
He scraped a hand over the stubble of his jaw. As much as his traditionalist side wanted to punish her, he refused to dampen her spirit. Instead he’d prove to her that being his wife was a privilege, not a prison sentence.
Only if she continued resisting his every move would he consider disciplining her. He kept his smile on the inside. And it wouldn’t be the kind of punishment she’d expect.
He sobered a little. Although her father, Sheikh Abdul, was old-school and believed in strong discipline, Arabelle hadn’t been raised by him, not for a lot of years. No doubt she’d forgotten the sting of authority and had never really faced the consequences of her actions.
Mahindar’s dick strained against his pants. Would his stubborn bride secretly enjoy a flogging with one of his many whips and riding crops he kept in his palace bedroom? Perhaps she’d even find pleasure in being chained to his four poster bed while he brought her close to orgasm with his hands and mouth.
Bringing her close to climax but not allowing her to have one would be the ultimate punishment for someone used to getting her own way. He exhaled roughly, his stomach contracting. Only once she was livid with passionate rage would he allow her to succumb and enjoy the best orgasm of her life.
Because he had serious doubtsanyof her past lovers had known how to satisfy her deepest, darkest needs.
His smile turned grim, warmth flooding through him and his dick nothing short of a steel pike as he imagined fulfilling her every desire. He’d start vanilla and work his way into far more complex yearnings.
That she’d been raised in a western world meant she’d probably never given a man control, even briefly, in the bedroom. She would have been too busy reveling in her freedom and ruling her own life while connecting with sensitive new age men who had no clue how to say no to her while trying to keep her happy.
A knot formed in his gut. Just many menhadshe been with? And why did it matter? He’d been with countless women. Yet he had a feeling he’d need every bit of that experience to set his wife’s passionate nature free.
It might be to his advantage that she assumed he’d married her to bind a powerful alliance with her father, Sheikh Abdul Al Hussam. She didn’t need to know an alliance wasn’t remotely necessary. Mahindar’s affluence was legendary and he had more than enough of his own allies without her father’s influence.
She needed to know even less that her father had secured this union thanks to the war threatening at his borders. Arabelle had unknowingly and unwittingly saved her people thanks to Mahindar’s powerful and influential friends.
In all honesty, Sheikh Abdul al Hussam was nothing more than a burr in Mahindar’s side, a nuisance he could do without.
His daughter, though, was another thing entirely.
Mahindar glanced at her again, admiring her smooth brow, passionate, full lips and the delicate length of her nose she’d inherited from her western mother. His eyes narrowed as he noted the elegant line of her throat, where her pulse beat furiously.
Was she that frightened of him? He might have a fierce reputation, but he wasn’t unfair. He understood much of what his gorgeous bride railed against. Life for many Middle East women wasn’t easy. But it didn’t have to be a battleground, either. If she allowed him in, her life could be the fairytale most girls dreamed about.
That she wouldn’t just surrender to any man kept his dick hard and his interest absolute. It would take a strong, powerful and yet restrained touch to break down her resistance. And he was just the man to do it.
She glowered at him, her striking blue-green eyes—another trait handed down to her from her gorgeous mother—holding his. “What is it you intend to do with me?”
He stifled a groan. If his dick was a steel pike earlier, it was a concrete pillar now. Just imagining all the sex positions he’d introduce to her kept his seed boiling like a pressure cooker in his nuts. He had no reason to believe she was a virgin. But he also doubted her lovers had shown her much in the way of passion and technique.
