Sold to the Sheikh by Chloe Cox

inevitability that would certainly come sooner rather than later, if he could not convince Creighton that it was in his interest to ally with Ras al Manas. His family’s patience for his proclivities was always in direct proportion to his usefulness.
    “Stella,” he said, frowning. She seemed distracted, peering down below at the mass of well dressed, powerful people milling about the large, well appointed hall. He needed her to remember why she was here. He needed her to be present.
    “Yes, Sheikh?”
    “Display your breasts for me.”
    She jerked her head back, and then turned toward him, obviously not certain if she had heard correctly.
    “Here?” she said, and looked down again at the party below. They were alone on the landing, but, of course, anyone might look up at any time. Which was the point. Bashir glowered.
    “If I have to repeat myself, Stella,” he said, “you’ll spend the rest of the night that way.”
    She looked up and blanched. She could tell he was serious.
    Bashir saw her hands shake slightly as she raised them to her breasts, and knew it meant that she was experiencing a spike in adrenaline, in focus, in sensation. She hesitated, only momentarily, and when he frowned she moved quickly, as though plunging ahead, and pulled her dress down over her nipples.
    “Do not close your eyes, Stella,” he said, and reached out to brush her cheek. “Be aware, in this moment. Be fully in this moment, or you will have failed to serve me.”
    Tension colored her face at the mention of failure. Another interesting tidbit.
    Obediently, she opened her eyes, her pupils full and black, pushing the blue of her irises into a fine, bright ring. So open to the world. So brave, in her way. Bashir let his hand trail lightly down her neck to tweak one sensitive nipple, and smiled when she jumped.
    “Remember that I own you, Stella,” he said. “Remember that you are mine, that you are here to serve me, that you will feel what I tell you to feel, when I tell you to feel it. We begin tonight.”
    She swayed slightly, beneath his touch, and once again Bashir had to fight the urge to simply ravish her. “Clothe yourself,” he said. “I have business to attend to. And then I will attend to you.”
     

 
     
     
    C HAPTER 8
     
    Stella did not like Cecil Creighton. She didn’t like how he kept throwing back those scotch and sodas, she didn’t like the way his fleshy face ruddied the more he drank, she didn’t like the way he wore his sense of entitlement like a suit of impenetrable armor, and she didn’t like the way he didn’t even bother to hide the way he looked her at her.
    Which made it all the more confusing that she was somehow very excited to be sitting on the Sheikh’s lap while the two of them talked. The Sheikh had found them a private room off the main hall, full of books and what looked like actual illuminated manuscripts hidden away under protective glass. It wasn’t technically “in public,” but Stella was very aware of Creighton’s eyes upon her. And she was very aware that Creighton knew she belonged, in the very literal sense, to Sheikh Bashir.
    She shook her head slightly, biting her lip to keep from smiling. Belonged to Sheikh Bashir . How easily she’d thought that. How easily it had made her wet. This is nuts .
    But as long as Sheikh Bashir held her, it felt as though no one else really mattered. Creighton didn’t matter, except as a spectacle. It was like Sheikh Bashir had provided her with a tiny audience, just to excite her. And it did.
    “Where’d you find her?” Creighton asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. His red-rimmed eyes were covetous. Again, Stella was torn between disgust and arousal. They spoke of her as if she really were just a possession.
    Sheikh Bashir tightened his arm about her waist, and lifted the other hand to absently fondle her breast. Oh my God, he’s really doing that. Stella felt her nipples harden, and knew they would be visible through her