Her Older Sheikh (Sheikh Breaks My Heart #9)

Chapter Eight

I 'm still pouting like a spoiled little brat as Rashad leads me inside Grandpa's favorite steakhouse, but I forget what I'm sulking about when I see the way other women have started ogling my man.

Grrr!

Rashad's steps come into an abrupt halt when I fall against his side. "Madeleine?" Concern makes his accent more pronounced, and I mentally file this under Top Adorable Things About Mr. Mine.

"Are you alright?"

I can practically hear the women around us grinding their teeth in envy at the way Rashad gently tips my chin up, and it's a real struggle not to succumb to the temptation of meeting all of their gazes just so I can say once and for all—-

Rashad is Mr. Mine because he's mine so hands off, girls!

Oh, if only.

But I obviously can't, and so I do the next best thing and gesture to my ankle with a pained look. "I think I twisted it." I look up at him with my lower lip out. "Can you carry me to Grandpa's table?"

Rashad swings me up in his arms, but just as I hide my smile in the crook of his neck, he then murmurs straight to my ear, "I know you're faking it."

A giggle escapes me, but I'm still determined to maintain my innocence. "No comment."

Everyone we walk past ends up looking at us, and most of the women appear vexed and envious. They obviously don't get why an ordinary girl like me has ended up with someone like Rashad, and while I don't get it either—-

There's at least one person in this place who thinks Rashad and I make a great pair, and obviously it's none other than the old man himself.

Grandpa Paco has the biggest grin on his face as he watches Rashad carefully lowering me to a chair. You'd think he's won the lottery or something, but—- oh!

I was wondering earlier why the old man was being so weirdly nice to Rashad, and my suspicion only grows when Grandpa Paco engages Rashad in shop talk as soon as he takes his seat.

"Ahem."

I wait until both men are looking at me before shaking my head at my grandfather.

"You can drop the act now, Grandpa."

The old man immediately starts blustering. "What act?"

"So not fooling anyone."

"Bah! I'm not trying to fool anyone—-"

But the way he's unable to meet my eyes says otherwise.

"You're usually rude to any guy I introduce you to—-"

"So?" Grandpa Paco's defensive tone only convinces me that I'm on to something. "It's simply my way of testing them and making sure they're no fortune hunter—-"

"Bingo!" I give my grandfather a smug look. "That's why you've been so unbelievably nice to Rashad, isn't it? Because you know he's super rich, and so you don't have to worry about him having any ulterior motives for dating me."

I wait for Grandpa Paco to admit that I've nailed it perfectly on the head, but my elation somewhat fades when I see that his expression has turned enigmatic once again.

"Grandpa?"

The old man glances at Rashad, and when I look at him as well, I'm stunned to see the rather grim set of his jaw.

"Rashad?"

Why do I have a feeling like I'm missing something?

"I have something to tell you."

And why does Mr. Mine sound so tense all of a sudden?

"The truth is—-"

Grandpa Paco cuts him off, saying in a grudging tone, "Alright, I admit it. You're right, you found me out. I do know who he is—-"

"Ha! Knew it."

"But I'm guessing you don't."

It's my turn to feel defensive. "Just because we haven't known each other for very long—-"

"Rashad, my dear Maddy, is one of the royal princes of Huzna."

Oh.

Okay.

Um.

Right.

Rashad takes my hand under the table, and I'm not sure what to think when his grip tightens around mine.

"Will you excuse us, Paco?" he asks my grandfather while still holding my hand like he thinks I mean to escape him. "I'd like to speak to Madeleine somewhere private."

I'm not sure how he manages it, but maybe this is just how royalty works, and the next thing I know it's the restaurant manager himself offering the use of his private office, and Rashad is gently guiding me to sit on a couch.

He waits until we're alone before crouching down in front of me.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

His voice is harsh, and he takes my hands into his in a grip that makes me feel I'm more like his captive than his date.

"Are you really a prince?"

"I'm a sheikh with royal blood, yes."

A sheikh.

It sounds very exotic, and very much him, but—-

"Aren't sheikhs supposed to marry...lady sheikhs?"

He chokes.

"Did I say it wrong? Is it sheikhess? Sheikhueen? Maybe Sheikhina like Shakira—-"

"Are you trying to make me laugh?"

I grin, and he groans.

"Damn you."

He's saying those words that way again, and the sound tugs painfully at my heartstrings.

"I thought the truth would make you..."

"Angry?"

"And hurt," he says grimly.

"Why should it?"

"Because I lied to you."

A rueful smile curves over my lips. "Let's put it this way. I'm just glad that you only lied about being a prince, rather than me finding out you're only with me because of my grandfather's money."

I'm hoping those words are enough to clear things up, but Rashad's expression remains strained.

"Stop being a worrywart," I chide him teasingly. "Can't we just kiss and make up, please?"

I only mean it as a joke, but when his gaze goes straight to my lips, sexual tension erupts in the room, and I can barely breathe as Rashad slowly lets go of my hands.

His gaze holds me captive, and all I can do is tremble and ache as he joins me in the couch.

This man can have any girl he wants, but for some reason, it's me that he craves, me that his tiger-gold eyes are now busily devouring.

It's that same look again in his eyes, and lust tickles down my spine as I find myself unable to resist asking—-

"Are you finally going to eat me?"

The desire in his eyes turns hotter and wilder, and it's all I can do not to moan as he traces my lips with his thumb.

His touch is fire, and I'm burning with need.

"You don't know how badly I want to kiss you."

He's growling like some beast in heat, and it has me begging him shamelessly.

"Then kiss me. Please ."

"I can't."

Frustration fills me, and I don't bother hiding it. "Why?"

"Because when I do, it will leave your lips so damn swollen, and everyone who sees you will know exactly why that is...your grandfather included."

Oh.

He raises a brow. "But if that's okay with you—-"

I quickly shake my head. "It's not."

Another one of his sexy little almost-smirks forms over his lips. "I thought you'd say that...which is why I'll need you to choose something else."

My forehead creases. "Choose what?"

"A secret part of your body," he says lazily, "that you want me to claim first."

Holy, holy, holy Mother of Debauchery!

Rashad once said he's bad in every unimaginable way there is, and I so believe him now.

"Are you serious?" I ask breathlessly.

"Tick tock, my sweet," he says mockingly. "Choose now or I'll make the choice—-"

I actually feel a little nervous, and I say in a rush, "I choose my boobs!"

His lips twitch, and I realize I might've actually screamed the words out?

"Excellent."

And now he's purring, and I feel excited, scared, and pressured all at once.

"Don't expect much . Like literally." I know I've started babbling, but I can't help it. "They're not that big—-"

"They're perfect ."

"No, they're not—-"

"And I'll make you feel just how perfect they are."

Forget about swooning.

Because this time, I. IS. DROWNING.

"Raise your arms, my sweet."

The words remind me of how my favorite 2D heroes enjoy ordering their own women around, and I. IS. LOVING. IT.

Up my arms go, and Rashad gently pulls my blouse over my head.

My arms lower back down, and I see him staring at my breasts like they're a feast for his eyes.

"Perfect," he whispers, and I can only moan and writhe when he finally reaches for my tits.

His fingers slowly trace their roundness, and my boobs swell at the teasing gentleness of his touch. He promised to make me feel how perfect they are, and I definitely feel it now.

I never thought a man could ever look at my boobs this way, and sweet, sweet, sweeeet fantasy, baaaaaaaby—-

Rashad suddenly claims my waist to haul me up, and just as I find myself kneeling on the couch, and my legs are straddling his strong, hard thighs, he's also yanking my bra down, and now he's cupping my tits—-

Oh...yeeees.

Perfection is exactly how he makes me feel as he nuzzles the valley between my boobs while his hands start kneading my swollen pair of globes.

He kneads them slowly and gently, then roughly and forcefully, and just as I cry out at how perfect it all feels, Rashad makes it more so when he finally takes one nipple into his mouth and starts suckling.

Oh yes, oh please, oh gosh.

He sucks and sucks and sucks, and all I can do is clutch the back of the couch as he claims this secret part of me like he promised.

My nipples are now on fire, and a cry spills past my lips as he moves to claim my other tit and the whole tortuously perfect cycle begins anew.

Don't stop, please.

And he doesn't.

He just sucks and sucks and sucks, and the way he does it, oh gosh—-

It's just so violently, agonizingly perfect -—

That all I can do is moan the truth as I start to cum.

I love you.

The words tumble past my lips, and I can't seem to stop moaning them over and over and over.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

My orgasm feels endless, but the final tremors eventually fade, and that's when sanity slaps me in the face.

Have you lost your mind, self?

I try to scramble off his lap, but Rashad pulls me back down, and my throat tightens in fear.

"What did you say?" he asks hoarsely.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

"Just forget what I said," I cry out.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I want to say it back."

I stare at him in shock. "D-Don't toy with me like this."

"I'm not."

My heart bangs against my chest, and I want to pinch myself just to make sure this isn't all a dream.

"Say it," Rashad urges. "Say it, Madeleine."

Fear makes me want to refuse him, but when I see the way he's looking at me, the words simply spill out—-

"I love you."

Rashad cups my face, and my heart feels like it's about to burst.

Is this truly happening, self?

"I love you, Madeleine."

A teary laugh escapes me, and then I feel like I'm about to pass out in sheer happiness when Rashad starts showering kisses all over my face.

He loves me! He loves me! He loves me!

I'm still on cloud nine when we finally walk out of the office, and it thrills me to no end that Rashad doesn't let go of my hand even when we're already back at our table. It's silly, I know, but I guess this means I have another thing to add under Top Adorable Things About Mr. Mine.

I'm still mentally pinching myself when dinner finally ends, and Rashad is asking my grandfather if he can take me out for a nightcap.

"I promise to have her back with you by midnight," Rashad says.

"Or you can just keep me all night," I counter mischievously.

"Maddy," my grandfather growls.

"Madeleine," my boyfriend (he is that now, isn't he?) groans at the same time.

But this only has me blinking innocently. "What?"

"Definitely by midnight," Rashad stresses when my grandfather looks like he's about to have an aneurysm.

"But—-"

Rashad glances at me, and the glint in his tiger-gold eyes has me biting back the rest of my words.

Oh, fine.

We do have the rest of our lives anyway, so if he wants to send me back by midnight, fine.

But as for the few hours that we have to ourselves—-