Madeline is the most complex woman I’ve ever met. Last night, after dinner, I gave her a set of diamond earrings and a necklace made by the royal jeweler, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. She wore them at my request while we made love, but this morning the jewels were back in the box, which means she took them off during the night.
When I asked if she didn’t like the gift, she replied that she did but that she liked even more what happened while she was wearing them.
The car jolts as we cross over a high dune, and she smiles. “I’ve never been in a jeep before. This is the first time.”
“There’s no other option to reach the oasis. It’s either this or a camel,” I joke. I would never put my pregnant wife on a camel’s back for such a long distance.
“Camels are so tall.”
“Don’t worry, Madeline, I won’t make you ride them.”
“I want to, but not today,” she says, masking her fear. “What will your family think about us being away?”
“They know me well enough to know I value privacy.”
“Oh!”
“You’re carrying my child, Madeline. Why are you being so coy?”
“I’m not. It’s just that we were discreet in London, in Turkey and Ibiza. It feels strange to make our relationship public.”
“In a few days, the whole world will know that you are my chosen wife.”
Half an hour later, we finally arrive, and she lets out a cry of excitement like a little girl.
I go around the car to help her out, aware that my team of bodyguards has followed us in five other jeeps.
“There are trees. And a natural pool. And tents.” She jumps and wraps her arms around my neck, oblivious to the fact that we have an audience. “I’m never leaving. I’m staying here forever,” she says, laughing. “Take me on a tour.”
I try to see the hideaway my father built for my mother through Madeline’s eyes.
Yes, it’s a piece of paradise in the scorching sands of Sintarah, a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. Despite the tents, there are stone buildings. But after witnessing her reaction, I have no doubt where she will want to sleep.
“I think we should go inside,” I say after we walk around the entire compound. “It’s getting really hot out here, and you’re not used to this kind of heat.”
She looks down at my chest, and I hold her chin because I like those beautiful eyes on me.
“What’s wrong?”
“You look incredibly sexy in traditional clothes.”
For the first time I can remember, I feel shy. Whenever I’m in Sintarah, I wear our traditional attire: kandoora and ghutrah. “And without them?”
“Are you fishing for compliments, my Sheikh?”
“No, you cheeky girl. I’m just thinking about how much I want to lay you on the cushions inside that tent and spend the whole day sucking on that pussy.” I pull her into a kiss, and justthe feeling of her hard nipples against me makes my arousal blow up.
I pick her up and carry her into the tent.
“I’d like clothes like that too. Like your sisters’,” she says, her arms around my neck.
I smile because I like her request. “I arranged for my mother to order a trousseau for you. Just the basics, but there will be a stylist at your disposal when we return to the palace. Actually, two stylists: one for Western clothes and another specialist in traditional attire from my country. You should wear them here in Sintarah or at official ceremonies in other Emirates.”
“Bossy. Deciding everything without asking me.”
“You’ve always known that, Madeline. Are you going to fight everything I do for you?”
“No. I like that you’re cocky. As long as you know that, stylist or no stylist, I will have the final say on what clothes I’ll wear. I spent my whole life following what my parents said, but now I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions. As for your controlling tendencies, yes, I knew about them, but I was serious when I said our marriage won’t be a dictatorship.”
