Layla is set to study college courses abroad when she's abducted outside her hotel room and promptly sold to an obscenely wealthy sheik who has paid for the privilege of being the first man between her legs. Layla finds herself among a harem of pampered slaves but refuses to yield to the man who makes her shake and quiver, but more importantly, makes her question who she truly is and wants.
This 12,000 word story, formerly titled, SOLD TO THE SHEIK, is intended for mature readers only. All characters are 18 years or older.
Here's an excerpt:
To my great relief, he unbound my hands. I gasped a little as circulation flooded through my limbs, sending pinpricks of sensation through my hands. I flexed my fingers and rubbed at my chaffed wrists but before I could utter a word, I was on my back, Omar pressing down on me. My eyes widened and a ribbon of fear curled itself around my heart, not because Omar was on top of me, but because I liked the feel of his body against mine. He smelled of something sharp, possibly citrus, and undeniably male, and the scent of my juices. It was a strange, heady mix that only served to intensify the longing deep inside me for something I couldn’t define, wouldn’t face.
He stared into my eyes as if drinking in my soul. I couldn’t look away. The beauty of those dark, fathomless eyes were mesmerizing until I felt the insistent nudge of his straining erection pressing against my pubic bone. I gasped and stiffened but his mouth descended on my nipple, sucking the sensitive tip into his hot wetness of need and desire and I shuddered on a sigh. His tongue swirled the nipple, similar to how he’d teased my clitoris, and within moments I was crying out, writhing beneath him, offering him more. He obliged by sucking the entire areola into his mouth and drawing hard as if he were a suckling baby. I clutched at his head, loving and hating the feel of him at my breast as if it were natural and right. My body fought with my mind, contradicting everything I thought I knew with everything that I was feeling right that moment.
“Yield to me, my pet,” he murmured against my reddened and swollen nipple, my breasts tightening at his touch. “Your softness is mine. You were born for me and me alone. Say it, my love.”
I wanted to say the words. They were on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t. If I uttered those words, I’d be lost forever. My life would consist of what I saw of the other girls, a mindless sex slave who lived for this man’s pleasure until I was too old to appeal to him any longer. I seamed my mouth shut and turned my head, shuddering as he moved to the other breast with ruthless determination. I could feel his muscles bunching and straining, rippling beneath the smooth silk of his skin. He was as fine a specimen for the male species as I could imagine but still, I was more than a sex slave. I refused to be only what he wanted me to be!
“You refuse to yield,” he said, rising to stare down at me. His eyes blazed with raw lust and unrestrained need but something else lurked behind that gaze that made my breath catch. Danger lurked in that dark stare. Fear spiked my arousal and made my thighs damp.
“I can’t,” I whispered. I won’t.