by Charles, Eva
After a few minutes, he moves his legs enough for me to flip onto my back. I reach up and cup his jaw, easing my fingers over the stubble. His jaw is clenched. His skin sallow. But it’s the suffering in his eyes that reaches in and twists my soul. I don’t say anything. I’m just here—fully present, for whatever he needs.
“I trust you, Delilah,” he says, the words coming directly from his heart, “with the mission—with everything. You need to trust yourself.” He hoists my legs up, pushing my knees into my chest, and slides his cock into me. It’s not an easy slide—for either of us.
His thrusts are ruthless. His face contorts in agony, with droplets of sweat forming in clusters.
I reach up to smooth the sorrow, caressing his lips with my fingertips. He nips the tender pads, and jerks his head away, lowering his mouth to mine.
Gray devours me—taking and taking. And I let him, delivering the pieces he misses in benevolent offering. I want to give him everything. In this moment, I know nothing else.
Every kiss, every breath, every heartbeat brings us closer—not just to the edge, but to each other.
When I’m almost there again, he reaches between us, circling my clit until I come apart, clutching his shoulders as the turbulent waves crest and break, wrecking me.
But Gray doesn’t stop to let me catch my breath. He doesn’t stop for anything as he rolls his hips, driving blindly toward release.
With my legs quivering from the final savage thrusts, he follows me into his own anguished surrender. The control has evaporated and his grief escapes in a deafening primal roar, spilling into the cabin, and echoing in my soul long after he’s emptied himself inside me.
33
Gray
We climb aboard The Great Escape, Prince Ahmad’s luxury yacht. The Great Escape—pfft. It’s more pretentious than Lone Wolf, even.
Something changed between Delilah and me yesterday. Not a seismic shift, but an intimacy that develops not from carnal pursuits, but from sharing secrets that others don’t know.
I can’t explain why I confided in her about my mother—not exactly. I’ve been telling myself it was her reward for opening up to me. Something big and important to entice her into continuing to share more about her past. I’ve also told myself that it was to demonstrate my unwavering confidence in her. All these things are in part true, but they are eclipsed by a greater truth: I wanted to tell her. Five simple words, filled with complexities.
It’s not that I can’t explain why I confided in Delilah. It’s that the emotions are too thorny to parse through right now. My focus needs to be on the mission and on the safety of my team.
The crown prince is waiting to greet us, dressed casually in linen shorts and a button-down shirt rolled at the elbows. It’s similar to what I’m wearing. Unlike the palace, the atmosphere on the boat is always relaxed.
“Your Highness,” I say, polishing the exaggerated reverence with a mocking smirk that Ahmad has come to expect from me. “You look well-rested for someone with a new baby in the house.”
His eyes light up and his grin widens before he erupts in laughter. My relationship with the crown prince is complicated. It started, in earnest, as an easy friendship. We both come from powerful families with vast wealth, where cultivating genuine friends isn’t simple. Despite his selfish ways, which I originally attributed to cultural differences and royal lineage, I once enjoyed his company.
The prince doesn’t take my hand, but embraces me, instead. “It’s good to see that you’re still a sarcastic bastard. I need a bit of levity in my life.” He pats me on the back. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
When he pulls away, he turns to Delilah, who is dressed conservatively with a scarf covering her hair. But even with a modest neckline and her arms and legs hidden by billowy cream-colored fabric, she exudes an effortless sexiness. It’s impossible to hide, certainly from men like Ahmad, who are always on the prowl.
“What tender morsel have you brought with you?” The question is directed at me, but his eyes are all over Delilah.
The way he’s leering, I’d like to grab him by the neck and toss him overboard. But I can’t afford to be a jealous bastard right now, so I force a smile. “Crown Prince Ahmad bin Khalid, please meet Delilah Mae Porter.”
Delilah smiles, but doesn’t make eye contact with Ahmad. Instead, she places her hand over her heart with her head bowed slightly. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”
Pride washes over me—not because of anything I’ve done, but because she threw herself into the study, soaking up every detail she could get her hands on, or pry from Mira and me—all for this very moment. She’s perfect. I catch a whiff of the brackish water and feel myself relax.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Porter. I appreciate the show of respect, but on the boat, we dispense with all modesty and most formality. May I call you Delilah?”
“Of course.” She’s poised, but a bit nervous, which is good. It makes it more realistic.
“It’s not necessary for you to lower your eyes in my presence,” Ahmad continues, “as it makes it difficult for me to see their beauty. Yes?”
She looks up with a demure smile.
“Much better,” he says, with the cunning assurance of an animal with no natural predator. “At the palace it will be different, but while we’re on the sea, you needn’t cover yourself. After all, this is The Great Escape.”
Even after a century of secular rule, Amidane women are still required to wear the abaya and behave modestly, rules that Ahmad dispenses with any time it suits him. The laws are stricter for women, but men have onerous restrictions too. No one is permitted to practice religion of any kind inside the country. The king is the supreme ruler—not a demigod, but a god. In his absence, the crown prince has the last word on everything.
A man dressed in a pressed white uniform appears, and nods at the prince.
“Malik, please show Miss Porter to her suite.”
Malik is the crown prince’s eyes and ears on and off the boat.
“Once you’re settled, perhaps you’d like to catch some sun on the top deck,” Ahmad suggests before Delilah goes. “You’ll find the sunbathers there without swimsuits. You might choose to do the same. I understand it prevents tan lines.”
Delilah defers to me for guidance on her outfit, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s almost comical. “Wear a bathing suit.” I speak to her, but my message is for the prince. “I’m not adverse to tan lines.”
Ahmad watches the interaction carefully. Delilah is looking directly at my face, unlike how she behaved with him.
“If there’s anything you need, please tell Malik,” he says, dismissing her.
Delilah is not his to dismiss, but I hold my tongue. For now.
When she’s out of view, I follow Ahmad up the stairs to a private seating area on the middle deck.
He motions for me to sit. “What would you like to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having.” I roll up my sleeves while he turns to say something I can’t hear to a crew member, before taking a seat across from me.
“So you brought along a little plaything.” He’s not wasting any time, but this tells me everything I need to know about why the plans to go directly to the palace changed. He has concerns about Delilah.
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?”
“Is there something wrong with the women I normally provide? All you had to do was ask for something special.”
When I don’t bite, he keeps talking. “Unless she’s a plaything for me? A gift for your host, perhaps?”
Fuck you. The crewman brings us each a beer, pouring the contents of the bottles into tall glasses while we watch silently.
“I sent a gift. Did it arrive?”
“It did. Thank you. The port’s magnificent. I finished one of the bottles, but I saved the other for us to enjoy while you’re here. Tell me, is it as delicious as your blonde toy?” He raises his glass, touching mine in mida
ir, but not offering a good cheer. “You still eat pussy, I’m sure.”
“And you still don’t, I’m sure.”
Ahmad leans in closer, while I sip my beer. “What were you thinking, bringing a CIA agent to the palace?” He’s visibly agitated.
I would be too.
“Former CIA agent,” I explain carefully. Although, by now, his goons have told him everything there is to know about Delilah. “She spent virtually no time doing covert work before she was ousted. You were provided with all the appropriate documentation and paperwork. Don’t act like I’m trying to pull a fast one on you.”
“What’s your relationship with her?” he asks. His stare is icy, but his tone is less hostile, maybe even a bit curious.
I never let my guard down around Ahmad, not for a nanosecond, and this visit won’t be any different.
“I’m not sure.” It’s mostly honest, not that he deserves honesty. “I’ve known her for a few years. She worked security at Wildflower—undercover.” I don’t tell him that she was Smith’s plant. “We got involved. In the US, fucking your employees is still a big no-no. We’ve been sneaking around—I’m tired of it. I told her she needed to leave her job with Sinclair Industries if we were going to make it work.”
He sits back in the chair, crossing his legs. I’ve known Ahmad a long time. He’s not buying it yet. “Make it work?”
“I want to keep her—at least I think I do. But first I need to see how she fits into my life. In the meantime, she’s off-limits. Even to you.”
Ahmad begins to laugh. “Tradition requires that I take a wife. But I can’t believe you’re willing to settle down.” He shakes his head.
“Whoa!” I raise my hands. “I never said anything about getting married. Let’s not get carried away. There’s a world of difference between let’s see where this goes and a ring choking my finger.”
Ahmad’s aware that I don’t do relationships—even agreements with the submissives I train are for set, and limited, amounts of time. And they’re never exclusive agreements—that’s not what it’s about for me. Submissives are part of my job at the club, an enjoyable part, but that’s it. And other kinds of relationships don’t comport well with either of my jobs.
“She’s worked hard to understand the nuances of the Amadi culture, and I don’t see any problem with her at the palace. Otherwise I would have left her behind. But ultimately, it’s your decision.” Although I’m pretty much screwed if you send us packing.
I didn’t bring my cards with me, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve memorized every face and their names. I take another drink, eyeing him carefully over the glass.
He nods. “She seems meek for a covert operative.”
My lips twitch, because, describing Delilah as meek is—funny as hell. “Meek, no. She’s a hellion. But she wants to please me. I’ve decided I like a woman with a little life in her. They’re more fun to train.”
A thin smile spreads across his face, and his eyes grow dangerously dark. “I love a woman who fights back. In bed. It gives me every excuse to subdue her as I please.”
Fucker. The bastard needs no excuse to act brutally. It’s not that I’m opposed to rough play. I’m not a stranger to the crack of a whip, or the scrape of a sharp knife if the situation warrants, but for me to indulge, it has to be consensual.
“How about if you share her with your host? We can make a trade.”
I’d like to break him in half for even suggesting it.
“A trade? That’s mighty generous of you. I didn’t realize Noura was on the boat.”
He gulps his beer, emptying half the glass. When he glares at me, the venom in his eyes is something to see. “Princess Noura, my wife, is not on the boat. Nor is she available for trade.” His chest is heaving. “I’ve ordered men killed for less.”
“As have I. I’m not sharing Delilah. When I’m finished with her, if I’m finished, you can have first dibs. But until then, she’s off-limits, just like Princess Noura.”
He lifts his chin, but he’s decidedly calmer. “Gray, one of the things I’ve always liked about you is that underneath your playboy exterior, you’re a smart, tough sonofabitch. We’re cut from the same cloth.”
Not a chance, you prick. “Why did you want me to make this trip now?”
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Cut the bullshit.”
Ahmad snickers. “Before your father died, he and your brother, JD, visited the palace to discuss the wholesale purchase of a vaccine and some other pharmaceuticals. My father would like to pursue the negotiation, and he asked me to reach out to you because of our friendship.”
So this is how the king planted the idea of the visit with Ahmad. Clever. “I could have saved you the trouble. I have nothing to do with Sayle Pharmaceuticals. JD is in charge. But I can put you in touch with him.”
Ahmad shakes his head. “I met with him during the visit. It’s hard to tell that the two of you are related. He was such a dreary bore.”
I chuckle. “That’s what he said about you too.” Actually, JD said he was an entitled, pampered prick, and he doubted the prince wiped his own ass.
Ahmad laughs, and shrugs. “I suppose your brother and I have different interests.” He contemplates me, soberly, for a long minute. “I also needed some cheering up.”
“The women sunbathing naked on the starboard deck don’t provide sufficient cheer?”
He scoffs. “If only it were as simple as a tight cunt.” He sighs, and pauses for a beat before continuing. “Noura is on the Riviera, recuperating from childbirth and ruminating, I’m sure, over whether I’ll divorce her before she has another chance to produce a male heir.”
“I hate to be a drag by involving science, but it’s the father’s sperm that determines the sex of a child.”
“Fuck you, Gray. I took biology, too. But it doesn’t work like that in my world.”
“I take it you don’t want to divorce her?”
Ahmad waves me off. “She’s easy. Does all that’s required of her—aside from providing me sons.” He scratches his head. “Noura has the right pedigree. She’ll make a perfect queen. Those kinds of women aren’t a plentiful resource, especially as Amidane becomes more modern.”
“I understand the importance of a male heir to succession. But by the time your daughters are of age, maybe things will have changed enough to allow the crown to pass through women.”
He looks me directly in the eye. “That’s never happening.”
“What if you don’t divorce her? Aren’t you permitted to have more than one wife at a time? Maybe you can find someone who can produce a male heir.” I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation with a straight face. Aside from the archaic custom, this bastard is weeks away from being removed from the line of succession—although he doesn’t know his father plans on bypassing him and giving the title to his younger brother. That’s why Saher needs to leave the country. She’s her father’s favorite child, his only daughter, and that makes her a perfect pawn in a succession battle. Ahmad will barter with his sister’s life and her son’s, to persuade his father to keep him in the line of succession. He won’t hesitate to kill them to get his way.
“I’ve promised reform for women. That’s how I’ve been getting the West to warm up to me. I need their support in order for the kingdom to continue to thrive. I can’t take another wife—now is not the right time.”
I’m so done with this conversation.
“I don’t know what to tell you, buddy. But I’m happy to engage in a little fun and games to cheer you up.”
“I plan on taking full advantage of your generosity. But there is one last thing I can use your help with.”
“Jesus, you packed my schedule pretty full. I thought this was a vacation.” I press my shoulders into the back of the chair. “What do you need?”
“In that same vein of making the kingdom more modern, I want to install a sex club in the lower level of the palace. Not a place for big
parties, but a place with some fantasy rooms, where the younger princes can work off a little energy. Something along the lines of Wildflower.”
“Isn’t that why you send them abroad?”
He nods. “Except when the pandemic was out of control, and they couldn’t travel and started playing with the local girls. It was a fucking nightmare. I’m hoping you’ll spend a little time with me and a designer. What you have at Wildflower would be ideal here.”
It’s the perfect way to keep him occupied without having to dirty my hands too much. With Delilah here, I’d like to keep Ahmad’s girls as far away from me as possible. “Filthy fantasies are my specialty.”
“I’ve missed you, Gray,” he says sincerely. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
“Enough about my problems. Why don’t you change, and take a swim? I instructed Malik to put you in the same part of the boat as Miss Porter, but I also reserved you a room downstairs in the event you see something you’d like to sample.” He raises his brow. “I assume she demands discretion, at the least.”
I’m not exactly sure what Delilah expects. This is a mission and she knows it could get messy. But I have no interest in sampling any of the local wares.
“I think she’d be pretty pissed if I dragged her halfway around the world and left her alone for long periods of time—to fuck someone else. But I suppose a small, discreet taste wouldn’t hurt.”
34
Delilah
I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s after two in the morning, and I’m in bed reading. Despite our efforts to make the time adjustment easier, I can’t sleep, and I don’t want to take a sleeping pill. Not in the middle of the ocean with these shady fuckers.
Gray is with Prince Ahmad, who is charming in the same way the devil is charming. He stashed away his little harem during dinner for my benefit, I’m sure. But I’m just as sure they’re all decked out and ready to play now.
