by Leslie North
Their steps fell quietly against the pavement as they meandered back to the hotel, more like a couple that had been together for twenty years than new work colleagues. People bustled by them. When they got to her hotel, he walked her to the elevators, not letting go of her arm.
He pressed her to the wall, out of view of the lobby. She inhaled sharply, looking up at him with the sexiest look he’d ever seen in his life. Her pink lips were a breath away, but he stilled himself. His heartbeat echoed wildly between his ears.
“Marian.” He dragged a hand down the side of her shirt, his fingertips desperate for more contact. “May I kiss you?”
“What happened to keeping it professional?” She murmured, brushing her lips against his. “I mean, yes.”
He smashed his mouth against hers, a warm, fragrant kiss emerging, something so tender and sweet that his belly hurt. They kissed again and again, their tongues mingling out of curiosity, and then out of passion. He pushed his hand into the mess of her curls, made a small noise as they kissed.
“Holy shit,” Marian breathed once they parted. “That was a hell of a kiss.”
His chest heaved as he looked down at her, his mind swirling with lust. He needed more than that. Way more than that. And from the looks of it, she did too.
“Want to go up to your room?”
7
Marian and Omar stumbled into her suite, their lips forming a vacuum seal that even the most arduous navigation couldn’t break. The door clicked shut behind them as they maneuvered inside, toward her bedroom, and finally onto her bed.
Marian struggled to remove clothing as they kissed but had to break the seal once to get her shirt over her head. They quickly resumed their sloppy, desperate kisses, barely missing a beat, kissing like two teens who had just discovered their lips as sensual organs.
“Marian,” Omar breathed through a kiss, his hands smoothing over the exposed skin of her belly. “You are so beautiful.”
“So are you.” She tugged at his shirt, and he leaned back to unbutton it. She addressed his belt while he worked, eager to get to the main attraction. Screw slowness and foreplay. She wanted him inside her.
Omar shrugged his shirt off a moment later, revealing washboard abs and a glistening, bare chest. His skin was the color of caramel candy, one that she wouldn’t mind licking from head to toe.
“You’re so smooth,” she murmured, running her fingers over his chest.
“I wax,” he admitted with a laugh.
“You’re so vain, too,” she cracked, pulling him down for more kisses.
“I’m Middle Eastern,” he protested, as if this had something to do with it. Marian laughed, running her hands over the ridge of his shoulders, delighting in the arcs of his shoulder blades, the hills of his biceps. The man emanated heat, and his scent awakened a primal response in her, as if his pheromones unlocked something buried in her DNA.
She tugged at his pants, and he leaned back again, unzipping without taking his eyes off her. His pants crumpled to the floor, revealing navy blue boxer briefs with a salacious bulge. He tugged her slacks down to her ankles and then slid them off, his gaze riveted to the pink scrap of underwear covering her pussy. It clenched in response, as if it knew he was gazing at it, and she fidgeted, waiting for him to get on top of her.
“Take your boxers off,” she said, her voice coming out husky. He did as he was told, sliding them down over the ridge of his cock. His dick sprang free, bobbing slightly in the air. Her mouth parted as she looked at it, the thick shaft framed by tight tufts of black hair.
“Okay. Yeah. Let’s do this.” She tugged at him again, but he stood solidly, grinning down at her.
“Hang on.” He slid her panties down, revealing her messy patch of pubic hair. Why hadn’t she shaved the second she met Omar? Just in case. She was about to apologize but suddenly his face was between her legs, nuzzling for entry, and she gaped, legs splaying open as she welcomed his warm, exploring lips.
Her breath caught in her throat as he licked at her clit, suckling it slowly, dragging a finger up and down the folds. Her body tensed with the unexpected attention, and her head rolled back on the bed, eyes fluttering shut as she relished this god of a man servicing her in the most intimate way possible.
He slipped a finger inside her, probing her depths. His voice came out like a growl. “You’re so wet.”
“I’ve been looking at you all night,” she gasped, grabbing a fistful of his hair. She had to open her eyes, see him, not just feel.
He moaned appreciatively, slurping one more time at her clit before pushing on top of her. He stilled, the hot tip of his cockhead slipping between the folds of her pussy. His face clouded over with something unknown.
“Omar,” she whispered, trailing her fingers over the ridge of his collarbone. “Why do I feel like I’ve known you for years already?”
He blinked a few times, clarity returning to his face, like he’d rejoined the real world. “I feel the same way.”
Her hands made invisible patterns over his smooth chest, where there wasn’t even a hint of stubble. He rolled his hips, his cock nudging the tight nub of her clit.
“Do you have…?” He let the question hang in the air.
“I don’t.” Her heart hammered in her chest. “But I’m on birth control. If that helps.”
He nodded, leaning down to kiss her again. And then his strong hands slid underneath her, hoisting her up. He flipped her upright and she came to rest on top of him, straddling his cock, legs bent behind her.
“Wow,” she said, hooking her arms around his neck. Grinning like he’d won a prize, he nipped at her cleavage. “You show surprising dexterity.”
“I know how to get what I want,” he said, grabbing a big handful of her ass. “And I want you on top.”
His words made her dizzy for a moment. No problem with that request. She rose up as he aligned their parts and then eased down slowly, ever so slowly. Her breath dissipated once his cockhead slipped in, starting a slow stretch that felt as divine as it did challenging. He was a big boy, or she was a small girl. Either way, she sank down slowly, carefully, never breaking the intense gaze between them.
He gripped her ass cheeks with both hands, his breath coming out in pants. “Marian.”
She nodded. It felt too fucking good to describe. “I know.”
Once he was buried inside her, all the way to the base of his cock, he gave a low groan and she rocked slowly, delicately, trying to acclimate to his girth. After just a few moments her pussy was primed, and she moved with confidence, starting a slow roll on top of him.
Omar breathed heavily, his eyes the color of sin. “You feel too damn good. I won’t last long.”
“Oh, honey,” she purred in his ear, feeling the same prickle of pleasure beginning a warning churn in her core. “That doesn’t matter.”
She rocked and rolled, loving the way he filled her completely, all the way to her core and then some. Her clit knocked against the base of his cock as she rode him, and it wasn’t long before she felt herself at the edge of the precipice.
“I’m close,” she whispered. Omar groaned, rolling his hips against hers, taking one of her large breasts in his hand. He tweaked a nipple just as she crashed down around him again, and the dam broke. Pleasure spilled in waves throughout her body, a raging churn that filled every pore and cell of her being. She cried out, tensing against him as she came, wave after wave of bliss.
Omar groaned and stilled beneath her, his fingers leaving deep indents in her hips, and after a few moments their groans receded, and they were left panting together, her head on his shoulder, his fingers tracing invisible patterns over her back.
When clarity returned, she looked up at him, planted a kiss on his lips.
“That was lovely,” she whispered, nibbling at his ear lobe. “And approximately a thousand times better than I imagined it would be.”
“Really?” He smiled boyishly. “I knew it would be that good.” He bit his bottom li
p as she climbed off of him, his gaze following her ass as she plopped onto the bed. “I knew it from the second I met you.”
She laughed, swatting at his arm. “Stop it.” So he had been attracted to her. She hadn’t been imagining it.
“It’s true.” He lay down on the bed beside her, smoothing a hand through her hair. “There’s just something about you, Marian.”
“Something about Marian. Almost the movie they made,” she cracked, wondering as soon as the words left her lips if he’d get the American movie reference.
“Except this time the white stuff didn’t end up in your hair,” he joked back.
She nuzzled up to his chest, eager to hear the rhythm of his heart, at least for a little bit. Until he decided it was too much, or too long, or whatever excuse he might use to disappear from her room.
She had to enjoy this man while she could. Because something told her this would be the only chance she got.
8
Omar awoke with a start in the middle of the night. He lay under a sheet, different sheets than his own, in some bed that was…
He blinked, focusing on the sleeping figure beside him. Marian. Guilt crashed through him, and he jolted upright. What a blissful dream he’d been in. One where he’d taken a beautiful woman to bed and faced absolutely no repercussions.
But now, in his waking life, that guilt he’d tried to sidestep via martini rushed back to claim its rightful place in his mind. And it was two a.m., according to the bedside clock. He had to get back to his own place, into his own bed, into his own right mind.
Omar rustled through the darkness trying to find his discarded clothing. His body still buzzed from the epic sex, which hadn’t happened once or even twice, but a total of three times in rapid succession. Apparently the both of them had been starving for it, which made him feel like a twenty-year-old again.
He grinned lazily as he dressed, recalling their bedroom romp. Marian was easily his favorite lover; things just felt natural with her. Easy.
A little bit too easy, actually. He felt his way toward the door once he was dressed, leaving as quietly as he could. He winced as he hurried down the hallway, heading for the side door. This was sure to look bad, especially if a night receptionist spotted him. Marian was well-worth it, though.
Back in his apartment, Omar struggled to fall asleep. Instead, he tossed and turned, tortured by images of the amazing sex with Marian and feeling as if he’d let himself down somehow.
After his wife’s death, he’d made himself a promise: nothing serious for a long, long time. He could have one-night stands when he needed, just for simple physical purposes, but anything beyond that would be inappropriate. The bond that he and his late wife had created during her illness forged a new moral code in him, one that he still struggled to understand. They’d loved each other deeply in the final days, and seeing her rapid loss of health sometimes felt like they’d lived fifty years together in the span of only one. He still grappled with that sense of loss, that intense closeness forged in grief. Two years felt like nothing—and yet an eternity.
The pact had worked—until Marian. She’d only been here for a few days, would only be here for a few more, but the time they’d spent together felt cataclysmic; she’d shaken the foundations of everything he believed in.
And he couldn’t figure out if that was good or bad.
When his alarm finally went off, he rolled out of bed with a groan, his head somewhere between bleary and amped up. He readied for work with a strange pep in his step, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. Maybe the impromptu romp the night before would be good luck for their meeting with National Oil.
Omar returned to the hotel at nine a.m. on the dot, finding Marian already downstairs, lingering by the doors. She wore a simple skirt with a conservative button-up blouse, hiding those beautiful breasts he’d held in his hands the night before. A grin filled his face. He couldn’t fight it for the world.
“Hey there.” She swayed a little as she approached him. “Sleep well?”
“Sort of.” He squeezed her shoulder, an automatic response he couldn’t control. He just had to touch her. “I left early so it wouldn’t be scandalous this morning.” He nodded toward the reception desk behind them. “People talk about my family.”
Her brow shot up. “Oh? That’s unfortunate.”
He guided her toward the car, pressing his hand to the small of her back. He caught a whiff of her perfume again.
“Are you ready to win this deal?” he asked as she slid into the backseat of the car.
“I was born ready.”
He stepped to the other side of the car, taking his place next to her. Their knees knocked, and they shared a private smile.
On the ride to National Oil, he fought the urge to hold her hand. It seemed natural, as if maybe she wanted to do the same. Instead of reaching for each other, they covered some of the points of their new presentation again, rehearsing them just to be safe.
When they arrived at the boxy office building, Omar was bursting with confidence. He hadn’t felt this good about the deal ever, and it came strictly from the fact that Marian was at the helm alongside him. They strolled into the building, an assistant leading them back to the same conference room where the blowout had occurred days before. Inside, the same twenty pairs of eyes greeted them. Marian passed out packets of information to each person before sitting down next to Omar.
“Hello again, gentlemen,” Omar began, using the clearest voice he could muster. “We’re here to present our proposed deal on behalf of Almasi-Thomas.”
He went over the bones of the original deal and expounded upon the areas that had been modified since their first meeting. Marian added the data about the poorly performing equipment, gracefully mentioning the business links of both companies that would cause the original deal offered to be a bad deal for all involved.
Omar rounded up the presentation with some strong selling points, reiterating Marian’s links to the outside companies, and when they were done, silence fell over the room.
A few men nodded as they looked around at each other.
“We appreciate your presentation,” one said. “Including the absence of the other man.”
“We appreciate it as well,” Marian said.
“We’ll take some time to look over the information here and have our decision by the end of the day.”
Omar nodded respectfully and then waited for Marian to lead the way out of the room. Once the door shut behind them, they looked to each other with hopeful grins.
“I think we nailed it,” she whispered as they stepped into the elevator. “It went off without a hitch.”
“You’re right. They’ve got to accept it,” Omar said.
“I can feel it in my bones,” Marian said, her heels clicking over the tiled lobby floor.
While they awaited Omar’s driver, a thought occurred to him. “If we won’t get the decision until the end of the day, how about taking a little trip?”
“And skip work?” She feigned incredulity then smiled. “I think that’s a great idea. I’m the foreign dignitary, after all.”
He laughed, slipping an arm around her, bringing her close to him. The move made her inhale sharply, and clarity slapped him in the face. What had gotten into him?
“Sorry,” he said, loosening his grip. “You’re hard to stay away from.”
“That’s what they all say,” she said wryly, pushing at his shoulder. “But you should know I don’t mind one bit.”
“Then it’s decided. We will go on a sightseeing mission. Absolutely part of today’s work itinerary.” The car pulled up, and he helped her into the backseat then joined her. “In fact, I know just the place we’ll go.”
He reached for his phone, excitement thrumming through him. He had a brilliant idea, one that would serve as an early celebration of either success or failure.
“Hopefully we’ll get good news at the end of our field trip,” Marian said.
“I bet we wi
ll,” he said, scrolling through his phone for a friend’s number. “This feels like the best day ever.”
9
Marian blinked up at the massive balloon before her, unable to fully register what the plan was.
“So, you’re saying…” She looked around, double-checking their surroundings. They’d left the city and stopped in an open park area. “You’re saying we’re going up in this thing?”
Omar nodded like a kid eager to show off his science project. “Yes. I know how to fly it.”
“You’re a hot air balloon pilot?”
He grinned. “Of course.”
The assistant at the hot air balloon port, or whatever it was called, readied some weights near the basket as Omar opened the flimsy swinging door, beckoning her to join him. “Come on. You’re going to love it.”
She eyed the woven basket, trying to judge its safety without actually setting foot inside it. “What if it goes up and never comes down?”
“Impossible. Because of science.”
She hesitated. “What if the balloon pops?”
“Won’t happen, because today is the best day ever,” Omar responded.
“It could very quickly turn into the worst day ever,” she said, pressing a foot inside the bottom of the basket. It seemed sturdy enough. “Sometimes fate likes to play ironic jokes like that. You think it’s the best day ever because you nailed the deal, but then the hot air balloon gets stuck in the desert and the oil tech firm calls to tell you they hated the deal and suddenly, somehow, we also owe them a million dollars.”
“Wow.” Omar urged her inside the basket, basically bucking her with his hips. “Is that how your mind works?”
“I’m a natural-born pessimist.” She gripped the edges of the basket, avoiding the center for some reason. It just seemed to make sense. “Or maybe I’m just a Murphy’s Law adherent.”
