Sold to the Sheikh Read Online Free PDF Page A

now, trotting dumbly behind him, her mind was running out that slack at about a hundred miles an hour.
    First of all, a Sheikh? Really? She wasn’t over that, not by a long shot. Stella had a whole bunch of questions, obviously, mostly having to do with her own immediate assumptions, which she was pretty sure were shamefully ignorant, but kind of bugged her at the back of her mind anyway. For example: harems. She cringed at the word, but couldn’t help but wonder if they really existed. Or if Sheikh Bashir had one. She didn’t love the idea of that.
    But of course all of that paled in comparison to whatever had just come over her in that room.
    If you’d asked Stella Spencer, not twenty minutes ago, if she would ever agree to essentially sell herself to a strange man, to a Dominant, a Sheikh from some foreign country she’d never heard of, for any amount of money, and then would just… obey when he ordered her to take her clothes off…that she’d just allow him to put his fingers inside her, that she’d accept the idea of discipline …
    Well, not in a million years.
    Except, obviously, it had happened.
    She had never been more turned on. She’d never felt so desirable. This gorgeous, rich, obviously intelligent man had demanded that he pay an exorbitant amount of money for her. He wanted her. That in and of itself was just mind-blowing, but what really got to her was how she’d reacted when he’d told her his rules.
    She was not to come, except at his command. She was his. He said he would train her.
    And what Stella had felt was relief. Not fear, not anger, and she hadn’t even taken offense. It was a sudden relief that let her know that she hadn’t even been aware of how scared she was, of how anxious she felt all the time. The idea of ceding responsibility for her pleasure was somehow… Even now, it made her hot. Stella wasn’t sure how she felt about that fact, but she couldn’t deny it was true, and so she’d taken the leap.
    Now she was maybe regretting it. The Black Room was one of the BDSM rooms. One of the first things Lola had explained to her was that Club Volare NY was the New York presence of the Qui Volare Society, a secretive, international group committed to pursuing excellence, and even enlightenment, through sexual exploration. It had seemed a little silly, but Stella quite liked what it stood for. Qui Volare: those who fly. And it wasn’t just about BDSM, though that figured into it prominently.
    Like in the Black Room.
    Stella hadn’t spent too much time in the Black Room. Typically, they wanted people there who were really into the lifestyle, not outsiders, even if they were club employees. And now she was tagging along on the heels of this towering Arab Adonis— Sheikh Arab Adonis, she reminded herself—to the Black Room, where she was to be evaluated.
    Just the word made her cringe. Evaluation. What did that even mean? For some reason the first memory that forced its way into her scattered brain was of a horrible gym class in third grade, when they’d been graded on their ability to do various exercises. The winners had gotten Presidential merit badges, while the losers just got to feel crappy about themselves.
    And what if she failed? If it was an evaluation, there must be some way to fail. What if she wasn’t good enough for this, either? The old fear and anxiety were crawling back up her spine, looking for a way to take root in her mind. Stella didn’t think she could take another rejection. She’d only just begun to get through most days without crying about the last time she’d been rejected.
    Don’t think about that , she thought, and clamped down. Shut it down, Stella.
    She wouldn’t have the luxury of any more angst. They’d arrived.
    Sheikh Bashir put one massive hand on an onyx door handle, which was set in a large, carved door of painted black wood, and turned to look her up and down. His lips curled in an appreciative smile.
    “Uncross your arms, Stella,” he