“Anything, anything you need. I’ll make the limo ride feel like a boring Sunday joyride,” she said. “I just need you now, and then I’ll do so many naughty things to you, Zahir. I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” he said, easing his fingers out of her.
Then she felt something else, just the tip of his manhood as it probed at her hidden lips. Then he quickly thrust inside of her, and suddenly he was deep in her channel. It had been a while since she’d had sex, and he’d barely prepared her with his fingers, but this was part of what made this type of union so exciting. It wasn’t about the slow caresses and the foreplay. This was about raw, sensual need, about that animalistic drive to possess. Zahir was possessing her, making her hurt in all the right ways, and she couldn’t help but have the same needs.
If he went too slow, she was sure it would keep the energy pent up inside of her until she flat-out exploded.
He leaned up and kissed her lips and then her cheeks, even as she panted, her firm breasts heaving with each breath. “Are you okay…I…I just wanted it so badly. I should have teased you more, gotten you more ready.”
“No,” she said, her voice adamant. “It feels so good. Please.”
He responded to the desperation in her moan and began to move with a focused fury. She lifted her hips up as best she could, even in this awkward position against the wall. Every time he thrust forward, pounded into her, she moved with him, her pelvis coming forward to match the motions of his own. Reaching up with her hands, she dug her fingernails into his back, trying to find purchase to keep her tethered to the Earth as the pleasure flooded through her.
The ecstasy started from her core, from where their bodies were locked together. It was just a series of little sparks, easing up through the skin and through her muscles, electricity dancing and playing over her body and seeping in through her channel to her deepest core. It was overwhelming, and she slammed her eyes shut against the force of it all. Zahir was panting now with his own efforts as he slammed into her again and again. They were locked together in this battle, their bodies colliding with fury and force and frantic needs. He was swearing, at least she thought he was. Technically, he was screaming in Arabic, but it sounded from the tone like it was quite a blue streak.
She felt the same way, although the only word to escape her lips was Zahir. It had become her only refrain, her only prayer.
He thrust deeper inside of her, the head of his manhood hitting her G-spot in just the right way, sending more than just electrical sparks through her body. Her eyes were still shut tight when her orgasm hit her, and it felt as if fireworks had gone off. It wasn’t just that she could see them behind her eyelids. Oh no; it was far more than that. She could see the lights—the brilliant emeralds and violets—but she could feel it all too. The electricity swirled through her body, pounding into every bit of her.
He came soon after, and part of her wished that they weren’t separated by a layer of latex. She had no desire to be a mother now or even very soon, but she wanted to feel all of him inside of her. If they continued as a couple, she’d have to make a note to get on the pill.
He stumbled a bit but never let his grip on her loosen, eventually getting them to the bed. Zahir helped settle her under the comforter first, and then did the same for himself, drawing her to his chest and kissing the top of her head, even as he flexed his hips once more against hers. Teasing her with what they’d be doing later and all over again throughout the night.
“That was fantastic, Addy. Thank you.”
She snorted and tried to remember how to form coherent words in English. “I think I should be thanking you. You’re no slouch yourself, my sheikh.”
He chuckled and she felt his chest rumble with his laugh. “Thanks for the praise, my dear. Now get some rest, we have so much more to do.”
Boy, do we.
Chapter Seven
She was turning into one of those people, those hopelessly cheery people who loved Mondays, was always bouncy on the phone, and wanted to actually wake up before her alarm in the morning. Her brother had commented on it yesterday during her Skype call with him, and she couldn’t deny it. In the two weeks since they’d gotten back from the Al Ain, she’d been smiling broadly at work and enjoying dates and so much more with Zahir by night. She’d even caught herself humming in the shower. She’d never done that before. But it was hard not to be that hopelessly cheery, Mary Poppins-type when she was so happy. Like this evening, she was humming some old Rihanna song to herself—something silly from back in high school—and flat-ironing her hair. Zahir was going to pick her up shortly for a top-secret date.
It wasn’t that they were cuddly at work, neither of them found it appropriate, but they didn’t hide their relationship outside of the office. The date was top secret for another reason. He’d planned something special, and he had refused to tell her more than just to be ready by eight and to wear comfortable shoes.
If he’d said she needed jeans again, she’d have figured she was in for another camel ride. Whatever this was, she was completely unsure, but she continued to hum the next verse of “I’ve Been Everywhere” as she daydreamed about the next wonderful surprise that Zahir had readied for her.
***
Her eyes widened at the spectacle before her. As Zahir helped her out of the limo, Addison could barely process the sight that greeted her. There were dozens of vendors, all working out of tiny glass stalls (or boxes, really) and selling gold of all kinds. There were giant cuffs and bracers, rings of every shape and size, necklaces that were thick and ones made of the finest filigrees. All of it shone in the fluorescent lights overhead. It was Dubai, after all, and she was rapidly learning that for the right price, you could find any luxury and any big ticket item that you wanted.
Now there were stalls and stalls of gold, and she wasn’t sure what was going on. How could any of this be intended for her. She’d only been dating Zahir for two weeks. The gold here was real, and even a thin necklace had to be worth hundreds. It was all so much.
“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice an awed whisper even as Zahir took her by the hand and led her to the nearest stall.
This one specialized in necklaces but they weren’t thin by any means. They were what her mother always called statement pieces, collars almost more than necklaces, bedecked with jewels upon jewels. Even the filigree-style necklaces were stacked, with several layers twisting and curling together until one, intricate design would lay down over a whole throat and her chest as well. These were the types of necklaces worn by starlets on the red carpet or the wealthy at Monaco. She was neither of those things, and she’d done nothing to deserve it.
“You can. I want to do this for you, Addy. You’ve had so much sadness this year.”
“It’s been so much better since I met you,” she admitted. “It’s been everything I ever dreamed it could be.”
“Then pick one necklace and think nothing of it. Believe me when I say that I and my family have more money than I can spend in five lifetimes,” he said, his golden eyes brimming with honesty. “I want you to have something beautiful, something that is almost as beautiful as you are.”
“I…”
“Please. If you’re reluctant, then I’d like to tell you that in my culture, it’s considered rude to refuse a gift. It assuredly is.”
She nodded and felt her breath catch in her throat. It was almost as if she needed sunglasses to wade through all the brightness of the shimmering gold. She listened as the stall owner—a small, wizened man—and Zahir haggled a bit in Arabic. The stall owner then unlocked one necklace from his collection and brought it forth for her to try it on.
Golden teardrops.
The intricate loops of gold swirled around each other until they fell low against, but each teardrop wasn’t just made of gold. They fell into fat green stones, the emeralds dripping from it were stunning, and to be fair, would have looked amazing with the corset dres
s she’d worn the first time they’d ever met.
Somehow it had that Victorian feel to it. Perhaps it was the intricacy of the design overall.
“It’s perfect for you,” he said, even as he took the necklace from the shop owner and draped it over her neck. He clasped it shut, and she couldn’t help but blush at the wealth she displayed. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt like it should be, considering how much gold and how many precious stones hung around her neck. “You look like the sheikha you could be.”
She grinned, even at the hint that Zahir might one day make all of this permanent.
Her fingers seemed to reach up of their own accord and stroke the gold around her throat. “It’s exquisite.”
“It’s perfect. Take it, please. After all, what’s the point of having a sheikh for a boyfriend if he can’t spoil you?”
She stilled, unsure she’d actually heard him. “What?”
Zahir took the necklace back off and passed it to the merchant, barking orders to him in rapid-fire Arabic. The little man rushed off to pack the necklace away safely and, she assumed, prepare a receipt.
“What? I don’t know if I understand the question.”
“I just…did you really say boyfriend?” she asked, her heart beating as fast as a rabbit’s. There was no way she’d heard that—that so much good was happening to her finally. “It’s okay if you didn’t mean to. It’s really alright. I understand if you didn’t mean to say it and it just slipped out. I mean, just the other day I found myself humming this annoying Beiber song in front of my brother…well on Skype. It’s really—”
Soft lips were on her own, and when they finished kissing, those familiar and amused golden eyes were regarding her as well. “Trust me, Addy, I want this to be a full relationship. You’re the girlfriend of the sheikh of Dubai, and you deserve to be festooned like the queen I see you as.”
Well, damn, how can a girl argue with that?
***
“I still feel like I have to thank you about a billion more times so I don’t feel guilty about having more emeralds than I can probably count around my neck,” she said.
He watched as she gestured to her throat as if he’d be confused by what sartorial item she meant. They’d gone back to the palace that night, and then he’d spent what felt like years making love to her with that gorgeous set of jewels around her throat. Part of him found this guilt complex of her annoying, but another part of him was amused by it. Maybe it was some Bostonian family values thing. Seriously, it was merely a trinket’s cost to him. He wanted her to be happy, to feel and look as regal as he already viewed her. Maybe soon his lovely redhead could have the confidence to see herself the way he did.
“And it’s one of the best investments I’ve ever made.”
“I just can’t believe the month or so I’ve had. Everything was horrible with Mr. McDermott, and now it’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven. You’re a great boss at work and you’re a caring boyfriend,” she said, stretching out the word boyfriend and winking at him. “I think I won the lottery. It feels that lucky.”
Zahir leaned over and ran his finger over her bare shoulders, tracing an imaginary lattice work that only he knew the true pattern to. “Maybe you deserved it.”
“Well, at least I’m not kicked in the face all the time. The further I get from what happened, the more I realize what my twin was trying to tell me all along. Mr. McDermott really was an ass. He had the whole office terrified of him, everyone stressed and popping Tums and everything else to deal with the indigestion and ulcers he was giving people. You’re kind to everyone.”
“Some people think it’s better to be feared than loved. I think it’s better to show your employees the respect you wish to have from them.” He leaned lower and trailed a tongue over the soft curve of her neck, suckling eagerly at her pulse point. He loved when he was able to mark her, to draw up the small bruises and love bites on her skin. It was hard to maneuver a clear spot around her necklace, but Zahir was determined and he managed well enough. “There’s not finite amount of kindness, and I think there’s no problem with showing it first. Clayton doesn’t see it that way.”
“He doesn’t respect anything but himself,” she said. “I…I think I helped him do some very bad things. I mean, not just me. I think that most of the secretarial pool knew that when we were taking calls and noting down orders, especially in the overseas deals, that the numbers didn’t add up.”
Zahir’s heart sped up. This was it, and it was coming at the worst time. He wanted to know and needed to get those details, but he’d hoped to coax it out of her at work in a meeting as slyly as possible. Fairuza wasn’t wrong. There was everything exploitative and dirty about doing it this way, about letting her finish the truth with her naked and exposed in his arms.
“We don’t need to talk about anything that disturbs you now, Addy,” he said, hoping she’d just drop it. Then again, protesting too much would also be suspicious.
“But it’s true. I think he was cooking the books for overseas a lot, quoting them way too high prices and then getting cheaper materials to compensate. He was especially ruthless in other deals throughout the UAE. I heard him brag about it more than once over the phone. I just…every bit of him was a real asshole, and I’m so glad that I’m not there anymore,” she said, cuddling up against his chest. “I’m glad I found you.”
Zahir stilled but finally kissed the top of her forehead. He had the answer he wanted, but he wished to Allah and all the prophets that she hadn’t told him that here, in what he wanted to keep separate from his corporate espionage. Maybe that was impossible when he’d mixed business and his heart’s desires so thoroughly. So he just renewed his promise, what he’d made both to himself and to Fairuza, but now one he was vowing most of all for his beloved Addison’s sake.
“I’m glad you found me too, Addy, and I care about you so very much.”
“Me too, Zahir, me too.”
***
“Zahir, I know you’ve been busy but I need to talk to you. You rush into my room at midnight and tell me all these details I need to look into about McDermott’s United Arab Emirates deals, but then you hole back up in your room until noon. Seriously, brother, what am I supposed to do with that?” a shrill voice called.
Addison sat up instantly and clutched the overstuffed comforter to her chest. “Who are you?”
The woman stilled and her complexion went pale. “You’re not Zahir.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Where is he?” the strange woman demanded.
Addison instinctively reached out with her left hand and found that side of the bed both empty and cold. Wherever Zahir was, he’d snuck off on both of them.
“I don’t know, and who are you?”
“I’m Fairuza Amun. I’m Zahir’s sister, and I’m so very sorry.”
“Why are you sorry and why the hell are you researching things about Mr. McDermott’s company?”
“I…” Fairuza floundered and the other woman looked like she wished she could be anywhere but right here before Addison “I can’t explain this. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Addison shook her head and wished she’d slipped back on her pajamas. She’d feel better if she could pace and scream. But right now, she was completely naked, didn’t even have on that stupid necklace.
No, it wasn’t a gift…it was a bribe. He used me this whole time.
“Zahir was sleeping with me to get secrets about McDermott’s business dealings. The dinners, the trips, and even the necklace…all of it was like some sick down payment on the information he needed. I…has it all been a lie?” she asked, her voice seeming to crack into a thousand fractured pieces.
“I think you need to speak with my brother. I warned him not to do this, and I don’t think he meant to.”
“You knew?”
Fairuza nodded. “I told him he could have you as an employee to try and learn more about Clayton and his weakness
es or that he could date you and forget his grievances, but that he could never do both, that it would tear you apart.”
“Well, congratulations, Miss Amun, because you’re right. Now where is he?”
***
She slipped on her clothes and stormed all over the palace. That was not the best plan. The rooms seemed to be endless, and she remembered what he said about having thirty guest rooms. That was just the guest quarters. Who knew what else was out there, but she had no interest in staying with Fairuza. She and Zahir seemed to have planned all of this out extremely thoroughly no matter what the other woman had said. But as she stampeded through the endless, labyrinthine halls, she overheard a loud conversation in Arabic between Zahir and someone else. The second voice sounded flat and tinny, and she figured it had to be a conference call of some sort.
Fueled by her anger, Addison made a beeline for the door. It was shut, but if Zahir thought that a piece of wood would save him from her anger and frustration, then Zahir didn’t know her at all. She stormed into the room and shook her head at him.
“Zahir, we need to talk.”
His face visibly paled and he said something quickly in Arabic over the phone and clicked it off. Standing, he tried to walk over to her and calm her down, but she wasn’t about to have it. This wasn’t a time to be placated, not when he’d used her from the start. Everything that had happened last night hurt the most, as if the necklace were the price for her. Addison was many things, including foolish and currently very impulsive, but she was no one’s whore, and she wasn’t going to be given trinkets for stool-pigeon information either.
She was confused and in debt and definitely in a tailspin, but she knew her worth. Addison knew she was better than what both Zahir and his sister had dismissed her as.
“What’s going on?” he asked, concern seeming to color his words.
She had to hold back all her anger then because it would come out as a torrent of tears, hot and fresh on her cheeks. “You know what’s wrong. I was sleeping, and your sister comes storming in. She clearly couldn’t be happier, and can you guess what she was buzzing about.”
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