by Thorne, Gigi
That’s when he grabs my thighs and pulls me off the bathroom counter, only to turn me around and push me face down against it. Grunting, he hooks his fingers around my panties and tears them off. Within seconds, a packet is ripped, and I hear a zipper come undone. I gaze at him through the mirror as he grips my ass and positions himself behind me.
The moment his tip enters me, I gasp. He’s huge, and the farther he thrusts, the more I feel as though I’m about to explode. Fuck.
I’m being fucked by a stranger, and I’m loving it. There’s nothing more wrong, more illicit than this, yet I can’t bring myself to end it. It feels so good, making my eyes roll into the back of my head. That’s how hard he’s banging me against the counter.
I can feel myself come undone from the sheer force of his thrusts, and I moan out loud. His dick pulsates inside me, amplifying the pleasure as we both come at the same time, moaning like animals.
When my orgasm subsides, he pulls out and takes off the condom, tying it up and throwing it in the trash. Before I’ve even had a chance to look at him, he’s already zipped himself up again as if nothing ever happened.
As I get up, he takes ahold of my body again and pulls me in for a toe-curling kiss. One I won’t forget anytime soon.
“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice dark and sultry.
“Maya,” I reply, my throat clamping up.
“Maya …” He licks his top lip in a way that makes me feel as if he just laid claim to my name. “Amir.” He grabs my hand and presses a kiss on top. What a gentleman.
My brain is still trying to process what happened when someone suddenly enters the bathroom, and my entire face flushes.
“Ahh …” the woman mumbles, gazing at both of us.
I clear my throat and quickly pull down my dress. “Sorry, I was just … washing out my clothes,” I lie as I try to hide the panties underneath the sink.
She glances back and forth at both of us as a wicked smile appears on her lips. Of course, she caught us kissing. I just pray she didn’t see anything else.
“Excuse me,” she says as she tries to pass us both. However, she stops midway, and her eyes remain fixated on Amir. “Hey … you look like … aren’t you—”
“No, I’m not,” Amir interrupts with a strict tone, and he quickly pulls his scarf back over his lips.
The woman flinches and makes a face. Then she goes into a cubicle but not before throwing a final glare our way. Who was she? Or more importantly … why does she know him?
But before I can ask him, he’s already gone.
Disappeared through the door as though he never even existed.
3
Amir
I drop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, breathing out a sigh. Fuck me. That was insane. But worth it, nonetheless.
God, that girl … those lips … and that fuck.
Even though it’s been an hour since I last saw her, I can still taste her sweet lips and feel her pussy on my dick. I wish I could’ve kissed her a little longer. And maybe fingered her too. I would’ve brought her back to this hotel room for a second round if that woman hadn’t interrupted us.
Why did she have to recognize me?
I close my eyes and try not to think about it, but the image of that girl continues to spring into my mind. She was beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Not like the girls from here. I rarely see them with that kind of pearly white hair and almost translucent skin. It was mesmerizing. And the way she danced? Fuck me, it made me want to rip off her clothes and lick her body. So I did.
I normally never just randomly fuck them and especially not in a bathroom, for fuck’s sake. But I couldn’t stop myself. The moment my lips crashed into hers, I needed to have her, had to claim her for my own then and there.
I cover my face with both hands because just thinking about the way I fucked her against the bathroom counter causes my pants to tighten from my growing cock.
Why am I even thinking about this? I’ll probably never see her again. But why does that piss me off so much? Damn.
4
Maya
Even though it’s already morning, I can’t stop thinking about last night.
I can’t believe I had sex with a man and only learned his name afterward. God, this is so unlike me. I don’t usually kiss on the first date, let alone let a man screw me like that.
But he … he was something else, that’s for sure.
While I’m sipping coffee and enjoying breakfast here at the hotel, the memory of our kiss and fuck keeps a constant smile on my face. I’m normally never this easy, but this encounter has left me giddy. Maybe I should let go more often.
This trip has only been amazing so far. I’ve seen huge skyscrapers in the middle of the desert and rode camels to some unknown oasis. And the people here are so different from what I’m used to as well—very calm and collected unlike back home where everything’s so noisy. I’ve gotten so used to New York’s bustling sounds that I’ve forgotten what nice and quiet sounds like … and here in Dakai, I’m rediscovering that peace.
The place isn’t all progressive, though. We’re not technically allowed to go all bananas in public, wear skimpy clothes, or touch in public, let alone kiss. Or fuck.
Jesus, I really did break a couple of laws. I hope I won’t get thrown into jail. Here’s to hoping the woman couldn’t identify me.
Not that I’ve seen anyone get arrested yet, so I assume the authorities aren’t on it like hawks. Maybe they’re lenient. Besides, kissing and touching is allowed in the clubs, though what we did definitely broke all the rules.
Goddamn, I’m smirking to myself again just thinking about that stranger … Amir. His name alone makes the goose bumps appear on my skin again. He was too sexy to be true, and sometimes I still wonder if it all really happened.
Not that it’ll ever happen again. I don’t know where he lives or what his last name is, so I’ll probably never see him again. Still, a girl can hope, right?
But I have to remember I’m not here to hook up. I have business to attend to today. I was invited to this country to design clothing for the royal family, and when I found out they’d picked me for the job, I completely freaked out. I didn’t expect to actually get it, let alone be designing for royalty.
But here I am, and I’m making my parents as well as myself proud.
After finishing breakfast, I hurry out the hotel to go to my appointment. My contact isn’t directly with the royal family, of course; it’s with one of their many assistants, as expected. Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever even meet any of them. But it’s humbling to know they’re going to wear what I create. It’s not every day you get to work for royals, so I’ll do my utmost best.
I take a taxi to the square in front of the palace. I’m glued to the window because I can’t take my eyes off the beautiful architecture. Especially the palace … wow. It’s brilliant white with luscious plants growing on all sides, potted plants as huge as a one-story building, big black doors, and ancient looking statues.
The taxi guy drops me off right in front of the square as he’s not allowed to go any farther. Luckily, I know where to go.
After paying him, I walk through the middle of the square, passing all the tourists. A few big cars are parked out near the end of the street—probably some rich people showing off. I know for sure when I see a guy wearing a long white garment and a black headband around his head leaning back with his elbows against the hood of his car, flaunting two girls at his side. But my jaw drops the moment I realize who it is.
Amir.
I stop in my tracks and stare for a few seconds, wondering if I’m dreaming.
But then he laughs, and I can hear his voice. It’s definitely him.
He’s really here. What are the odds?
And at that moment, he suddenly turns his head and stares right back at me.
The moment seems to last forever, and I can’t look away.
I know he’s seen me, but does he recognize me? Does he
remember the girl he fucked in the bathroom of a dance club?
I swallow when I see one of the girls placing a peck on his cheeks, and my mood immediately sours. Of course, he’d be that kind of guy. Kissing random girls you’ve never met, banging them whenever he can. Why would I expect anything less? He probably doesn’t even remember my face, let alone my name. I should’ve known better than to just let myself go with the first guy who showed interest in me.
I shake my head and turn away, determined not to let this sway me from my goal. I’m not here to find a boyfriend or have casual sex. I’m here to do my job. To make kickass clothes and make a name for myself. To put my brand on the map and become a famous designer. That’s what’s important right now.
So I keep my head high and walk on ahead to the palace. The side entrance is where I’m supposed to enter. The assistant told me someone will open the door for me, so I’m assuming they know I’m coming.
When I get to the gate, I ring the doorbell and wait for an answer. “Business inquiries only,” a stern voice says.
“I’m here for an appointment with Mrs. Adallah. She said you knew I was coming.”
A few minutes pass before someone comes strolling to the gate to unlock it manually. Guess they really don’t like to let people in. Or maybe they wanna check if it’s really me.
“Passport please,” the man says before he allows me in.
I reluctantly pull it out and show it to him. His eyes scan the pages before he gives it back. “All right. C’mon.”
By the time I’ve put my passport back in my bag, the man’s already gone ahead. I have trouble keeping up with him without looking like I’m rushing, but I don’t want to make a fool out of myself because I’m about to meet someone who actually works for royalty.
When we’re close to the entrance, the man suddenly takes my bag and puts it under an X-ray machine, probably to check if I brought anything dangerous. I guess you can’t be too careful with royalty and stuff. Luckily, I pass the test.
My heart’s beating out of my chest when he opens a door and beckons for me to enter. My eyes are peeled as I marvel at the beauty inside. White marble slabs line the floors and walls, the décor extravagant because of the gold practically slathered on everything. Gold fountains, gold lining along the pillars in the middle, golden statues, and even flaky golden pots filled with plants and flowers.
“Last door on your left. Do not go anywhere else. It is forbidden,” the man barks.
Before I can reply, the door has already shut, and I feel as though I’ve been trapped in the most beautiful prison in the world. I’m not even sure I’d be mad if they forced me to stay.
I tiptoe around and try to gape at the massive halls, but every time someone passes, I feel like a peeping Tom crossing boundaries I shouldn’t cross. So I opt for the safe route and immediately go to my left.
When I’m at the last door, I clear my throat and knock on the door.
A woman in a few layers of colorful fabric opens the door, and I part my lips, a little unsure of what to say. “Hi. I’m the new designer. I’m supposed to meet with Mrs. Adallah today.”
“You’re Maya?” the woman says, her sparkling eyes lighting up. “It’s so nice to meet you.” She shakes my hand and opens the door even farther, pulling me inside as she begins to talk. “Come in, come in.”
We sit down in her office, where she offers me a cup of tea and explains to me what I’ll be doing. It’s standard practice, and nothing I’ve never heard before. The whole conversation takes an hour maybe, tops. When all is said and done, and the contract is signed, I know exactly what’s expected of me, including the fact I’m to remain silent about this to the press until after the clothing I’ve made has been worn. Any private business I witness is also not to be discussed, which is completely understandable. I mean, it’s the palace, after all, and I’m sure the media are as hungry for news and gossip here as they are back in the States.
But I don’t mind. The pay is great, and I get to do what I love. They’re giving me free rein on the fabrics and anything else I need. Nothing is too expensive, which is like a designer’s dream come true.
By the time we’ve gone through it all, I’m giddy to get started. When we get up, she says, “Okay then. Let me introduce you to your client.”
Mrs. Adallah walks me through the corridors and up a flight of stairs. Then through what feels like endless halls alongside beautiful gardens until we stop at a huge door with a guard standing on each side.
I clutch my bag close to my body and bite the inside of my cheek, wondering who’s going to be wearing the clothes I make. If it’s a man or a woman, what their status is, their size … all of it changes what clothes I need to make.
“Is he ready?” Mrs. Adallah asks the guards.
One of them knocks on the door, and yells, “Your visitors have arrived.”
There’s a voice that echoes behind it. “Come in.”
The guards step aside, and Mrs. Adallah opens the door, hesitantly stepping inside. I follow her, but I can’t see a thing other than her back while she speaks up.
“Your Highness? Are you ready?”
Your Highness? What?
I’m stunned, and even though I open my mouth, nothing rolls off my tongue except soft mumbles. I’m going to actually design clothes for a royal?
“It’s time for your appointment with the designer,” Mrs. Adallah says. “She’s here to take your measurements and talk through a couple of ideas.”
She grabs my arm and pulls me forward into the room.
My eyes are immediately drawn toward a man sitting in a giant square bath, naked.
Females around him pour water on him, washing him.
And when he turns his head, all the blood drains from my face.
Amir.
5
Amir
The moment our eyes lock, my whole body goes cold, despite the fact I’m in a scorching hot bath. It’s her. The girl from the club. And from the looks of it, she’s noticed it’s me too.
Fuck.
What is she doing here?
One of the women tries to rub my skin with a washcloth, but I push her away. “Not now.”
“Sorry, Your Highness,” she says, backing away.
“Bath time is over,” I tell the women, who immediately leave, still wearing their bikinis. They’ll dress somewhere else, as always.
I wasn’t expecting Mrs. Adallah to come in with company. And that it’d be … Maya.
“Maya?” I mumble, still shocked about seeing her in the flesh.
Her eyes widen, and her face turns strawberry red, so I’m guessing it really is her. Wow. What a coincidence. And here I thought I wouldn’t ever see her again.
“Your Highness?” Mrs. Adallah says, raising her brow. “It’s time for your appointment with the designer, remember?”
“She’s the designer?” I ask, my brows drawing together. When neither of them responds, I burst out into laughter. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence.”
“Do you two … know each other?” Mrs. Adallah asks, her eyes shifting back and forth between me and Maya.
“Oh, yes,” I say, biting my lip, thinking about all the kisses we shared … and the way I banged her against the bathroom counter.
God, I was planning to do so much more to that beautiful girl. I wanted to take her back to my hotel room and lick her entire body before claiming it again and again. Too bad someone recognized me, forcing me to leave before anyone else found out.
When the silence becomes awkward, Mrs. Adallah places a few documents on my desk and smiles. “Well … I’ll leave you two to it then,” Mrs. Adallah says, then she turns around and leaves.
Maya stays put right in front of the door, her body practically frozen to the ground.
I don’t blame her. Discovering the guy you fucked at a local club is the actual prince must be hard to swallow. Not as hard as something else I would’ve made her swallow … if I’d had the chance.
I
rub my chin. I might still get that chance after all.
I step out of the floor bathtub, and her eyes immediately follow down toward my V-line, and probably beyond.
“Towel,” she mutters, shutting her eyes.
I look down and laugh. Crap. I completely forgot I’m naked.
I quickly grab a towel, and say, “Sorry.”
“Jesus …” she adds, making me laugh even more.
It’s not like she hasn’t had it inside her before. She just hadn’t seen me yet because I fucked her so fast and immediately zipped up afterward. I smirk. Well, she has now.
With my towel curled around my waist, I dry myself off with another one and then saunter off toward my closet. “It’s safe to look now,” I say, wondering if she’s thinking about my cock.
“Right,” she says sarcastically. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”
She sure has sass. “I promise I won’t moon you.”
“But you couldn’t wait to show me your dick,” she scoffs. As if she’s actually mad.
“Hey now,” I say, putting on some underwear and pants. “That was a mistake.”
“Really? You forgot you were naked? In bath? With a bunch of … girls?”
I laugh again. “For the record, those are professional washing ladies.”
She cringes. “TMI, Amir. TMI.”
“What? Jealous?” I raise a brow. Maybe she has thought about me.
Her face scrunches up. “You wish.”
Oh, so feisty. I love it. Still, I get that she may have been offended by what she saw. Finding out the random guy you fucked is a prince, and then discovering him in the tub with his washing ladies probably isn’t a great memory to add to the collection.
“I apologize for the way this introduction has gone,” I say. “But let me make it up to you.”
