She fights the inevitable

In the book, the Harlequin heroine pretty much lets the desert king have his way with her without a fight. She protests and squirms a little but that's the extent of her attempts to fend off the Emir. Alison apparently decides that she is going to make me take what I want. Instead of joining me on the bed she backs away still clutching the last scrap of silk to cover herself.

“Never your Majesty!” My sexy tenant makes it clear that she's not just going to submissively lie down and spread her legs for me. “I'm not one of your concubines who lives to serve you! I'm an American.”

“An American whore.” I get to my feet and take a step towards her. Alison actually takes a swing at me, but I just laugh as I catch her wrist with one hand and tear away the last veil with the other. “You Western women really think you can fight a man when he knows what he wants.” I swing her onto the bed and strip out of the last of my clothes as she tries to cover her nakedness with her arms. “Go ahead and fight as much as you like. It just makes it sweeter in the end.”

“You're a chauvinistic throwback to medieval times.”

“Not that long in my culture, Miss Miller.” I smile cruelly, “My father always kept a few proud Westerners in his harem. When the oil companies first started trying to get oil rights, he made it clear to the visiting dignitaries that he liked blondes and red heads.”

“What!?” I don't know if this is Alison or the Harlequin character that is expressing surprise, but it doesn't really matter.

“Oh yes, there were a good number of hopeful Hollywood starlets lured with promises of fame only to end up as gifts for the ruling families of these oil-rich lands.” Alison kicked at me as I climbed onto the bed, but it did not take long before she was pinned down with her legs spread wide and her pretty feet waving in the air. “I never bothered with all that, but now that I have you, I think I may revive the tradition.”

“The American government will never allow that!” Alison protested after another round of futile squirming. “You do not dare take the chance!”

“Your President Trump needs our oil far more than he needs a few pretty young college students who disappear without a trace.” I usually try to keep politics out of our conversations, but not even my MAGA loyal tenant is naïve enough to believe that Trump would start a diplomatic crisis over a single woman. I think she may have been trying to protest again, but I cut off her words with a long satisfying kiss.

It should probably be a concern that I found this kiss was made better by the way her small hands pushed at my chest and her legs kicked wildly at my backside. I had to hold her head firmly to keep her from turning her mouth away, but once I got my tongue past her teeth, her resistance became almost perfunctory.

It wasn't until she felt me positioning the head of my cock against her sex that her struggles returned to full intensity. By that time she was tiring anyways, and I was able to hold down both her wrists with just one hand as I guided myself into her tight sex with the other. I know that Alison was as into this fantasy as I was, but with the way she wiggled and her **** pleas made this fantasy of **** real enough that I felt a primal surge of triumph when I plunged deep into her pussy and heard her cry out and arch her back.

“Allah be praised!” I gasped as her struggles finally came to an end and I could turn my attention to really fucking her, “You feel tight enough to be a virgin, you little slut!”

“I tried to tell you your majesty ... now it's too late.”

Based on the number of Harlequin heroines whose first time is with the dominant Alpha males in the book, I know that this is a trope that many people (both men and women) find exciting, but this scenario in particular has me revved up. I spend the next three minutes fucking that poor teen with almost no regard for her comfort imagining what it would be like to be that desert king who thinks he is punishing a promiscuous slut and instead gets to open up this virtuous American teen. Luckily, this is not actually Alison's first time and her pussy is not chafed raw by the hard pounding of my cock. She tried to let out a few plaintive protests and whimpers, but for the most part she was as excited by this little fantasy as I was.

“Wait, Sire!” She tried to stop me as she sensed the end was close, “I'm not on the pill!” If anything the thought of this slender blonde swelling with a baby **** upon her only added to my excitement and caught her wrists in my hands once again and held her down as I filled her womb.

I don't know if it was the idea of being impregnated against her will, or just the natural culmination of this intense coupling, but no sooner that the first jets of hot jizz bathed her insides, I felt Alison convulse in her own climax.