When he began to move down her torso, pressing openmouthed kisses along the path to the juncture of her legs, she cried out. “Oh! God, please, Kamal.”
He looked up at her, placing two fingers against her lips. “Shh, love. We don’t want your men interrupting us. You have to be patient. You’ll get exactly what you need.”
She wiggled beneath him and made tiny gasping noises, biting her lip to keep from screaming the way she wanted to.
When he was finally settled between her thighs, his broad shoulders holding her legs apart, she opened her eyes and looked down to find him watching her, his eyes so dark and filled with desire, it took her remaining breath away. And as his fingers spread her open and he dipped his head and delicately touched the tip of his tongue to her clit, she felt tears spring to her eyes. But then he was everywhere, lips, tongue, fingers. Sliding, stroking, sucking with the perfect amount of pressure. Jessica was so overcome, she pulled against the leather that bound her wrists, feeling the edges dig into her delicate skin. The sting kept her focused, helped her bring some order to the chaos of sensations that were rolling through her.
“So delicious,” Kamal murmured as he licked up her center, his fingers sliding in and out of her in a perfectly timed rhythm.
“Oh, oh,” she gasped. “So close…”
He flicked her clit with his tongue at the same time he stroked that magical spot inside her, and she bucked, her entire body going rigid as she floated on that crest, and then she came, hard and fast, and so long. Kamal stroked every last moment out of her, finally covering her body with his, digging his fingers through her thick hair to hold her head steady as he gazed into her blue eyes.
“God,” she whispered.
“No, just us,” he answered, grinning.
She smiled at him, already feeling the ache return as his rock-hard cock pressed against her pubic bone. She swiveled her hips, and he moaned, his eyes fluttering closed briefly.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered. “Please.”
Wordlessly, he reached up and unbuckled the belt that held her hands to the headboard. Settling himself in the cradle of her thighs, he rested his weight on his forearms and watched, waiting to see what she would do. She skated her palms down his back, relishing the feel of his hot, smooth skin.
“Your suits don’t do you justice,” she purred as she felt the many muscles of his back and arms. “You should be on a billboard somewhere in your BVDs.”
He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. “I’m glad you approve. It’s worth the punches I have to take to look like this if you enjoy it.”
She pulled back, one eyebrow raised. “Punches?”
“Mm. I work out by boxing at Spar. It’s a popular gym with politicians and diplomats. Derek Ambrose is my usual opponent.”
“You and he are close, aren’t you?”
“Yes. But I definitely don’t want to talk about him when I’m in bed with a beautiful woman.” He chuckled.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked coquettishly, sliding her hand in between their bodies and down his abs at the same time.
“Talking is…fuuuck,” he swore as she wrapped her fingers around his considerable erection and gave a small squeeze.
“What was that?” she teased, sliding her hand up and down his shaft, pride surging through her when his hips rocked against her in response.
“Ah, no more talking,” he gasped before kissing her long and deep and hard. When he finally stopped to breathe, Jessica was boiling with want, wrapping one leg around his hips as she pressed hot kisses along his collarbone, and then took his earring and the lobe that wore it into her mouth, sucking gently.
She slid his cock along the wet slickness of her core, eliciting a groan and a shudder from him. When she placed the tip at her opening, his eyes popped open. “Don’t you want me to get protection?” he asked.
She looked at him for a moment, debating whether she should tell him the whole truth or not. Her heart contracted briefly, and then her stomach followed. “I haven’t been with anyone since my husband,” she confessed, deciding that partial truths would have to do for now. “And I have contraception covered.”
He looked at her as if he were trying to puzzle out the rest of the story. Finally, he nodded, tenderly kissing her on the corner of her mouth. “My liaisons are always safe,” he said. “I would never put you at risk.”
“You said I could trust you.”
“Yes. I very much want you to.”
“Then fuck me, Mr. Ambassador. Please.”
Kamal complied by thrusting forward and burying himself to the hilt inside her.
Six years was a hell of a long time to go without sex, and Jessica decided that the idea of being a born-again virgin wasn’t entirely fantasy. Something that big in someplace so long neglected wasn’t entirely comfortable. She held her breath for a moment, gritting her teeth, willing her body to relax and enjoy this—because she knew it would be amazingly enjoyable—eventually.
Kamal kissed her softly on her cheeks, her jaw, her eyelids. “Shh, love. Relax. Let me make you feel good again.”
But she had to commend the man, he held perfectly still, giving her the moments she needed to calm down and begin to feel the sensations of him inside her. And what sensations they were. Tingling, sizzling, aching sensations. And urges. Such as the one that said she needed to grind and circle her hips to get more of whatever it was that he’d set off in her—like a tidal wave.
“That’s it,” he whispered, beginning to pump, small thrusts in, pulling back out in equally small increments. She met him each time, trying desperately to get closer, press harder, take more. “My God, you feel good,” he groaned.
“More, Kamal. More.”
His control seemed to break then, and he thrust hard, pulling back all the way, then plunging back in, over and over, his big body held over hers, his brow furrowed in concentration.
She clung to his shoulders, her long legs wrapped tightly around his hips. Her neck was arched as she groaned from the very depths of her soul.
His pace became more rapid, and she could feel her own release so close but just out of reach.
“Touch yourself,” he growled, dipping his head to nip at the tendon between her neck and shoulder.
She reached between their bodies and rubbed her clit. Once, twice, and then she fell apart, spinning out into blinding light where everything sparkled and shone like a million tiny diamonds. When the blood stopped rushing in her ears, the stars cleared from her eyes, and Kamal was above her crying out her name, before he collapsed onto her, his breath coming in huffs, his silky hair soft against her cheek.
He rolled off her in a moment, pulling her along until she was draped on top of him, her head on his chest, where she could listen to his strong heart beating in rhythm with her own. And something inside her clicked into place. Something that had been out of alignment for so very long slid into its rightful slot, and just like that, Jessica’s entire world changed.
Kamal ran strands of Jessica’s hair through his fingers, relishing the feeling of her delicate frame on top of him, her silky skin and perfect, soft tits against his torso. His cock was already semi-hard again from the weight of her hips, and his mind was so bright, it was as though someone had illuminated it with starlight.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
“Mmm.”
He chuckled before flipping her over and looking into her eyes. “This is officially the single best date I’ve ever had.”
She laughed. “Yeah? You don’t get lucky on all your first dates? You have some pretty impressive moves, Mr. Ambassador.”
“Jessica,” he said seriously, even though he knew he ran the risk of scaring her off if he was too honest too soon. “I’ve never gotten this lucky ever. First date, tenth date, none of it. Right now, I am truly the luckiest man on the planet.”
She froze, her eyes searching his for something, what he wasn’t sure.
“Because
of who I am?” she asked, her voice small.
“Because of who you are—Jessica,” he asserted. “Not because of what you are—the president.”
Breath left her lungs in a rush, and she bit down on her lip to stop it from trembling. She cleared her throat before she responded.
“It has been a very long time since anyone but Fiona has cared about Jessica,” she told him.
He stroked her hair, his heart tender, a new rawness there that he’d never experienced before. “I told you, I am here for Jessica. The president has more than enough people looking after her. Let me make Jessica my job.”
She gave him the tiniest of nods, her beautiful blue eyes blinking rapidly.
“I want to see you again,” he rasped, her heightened emotions making his own throat feel thick and raw.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “But it won’t be easy. We can’t let anyone know. You can’t tell a soul.”
“Of course.” He kissed her on the lips. “I don’t ever want to put you at risk.”
“The agent who brought you up will be the only one who knows. The guards at the gate are simply given a list of cars to admit. They don’t know any details. But to get you into the building, we must always do it the way we did tonight.”
He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“I’d understand,” she rushed the words. “If you didn’t want to be treated like a dirty secret. If I could think of a way to do this without incurring the wrath of half the country—”
“It’s okay.”
And he meant it. The only thing he hated was that she had to sneak around, have her life controlled by things and people who didn’t really care about her except for how she related to them. America loved an image of Jessica Hampton, not the real woman, and that made him angry on her behalf. He turned and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Of course you can’t date someone publicly, especially not a foreign official. I don’t mind. If I did, I wouldn’t have come here tonight.”
“If you’re sure…”
“I’m very sure.” He smiled, charmed by her concern.
“Okay, then.” She blushed, and his heart flipped over. He was in deep trouble, he knew it, but he didn’t even care. She made his soul fly, and it had been a very long time since he’d felt light enough to leave the ground.
“Now,” he said as he wrapped his hands around her waist and squeezed, causing her to giggle delightfully. “I think we might need a little more Jessica time before I have to sneak out into the cold night.”
And then the ambassador made slow sweet love to the president, while America slept, certain that their favorite daughter was locked away in her castle, safe from foreign invasions.
Chapter 11
Kamal was sexting. Well, flirting outrageously, and over text, no less. It was undignified, out of character, and absolutely delightful, just like the woman he was doing it with.
Lady Liberty: I’ve put you on the list for the White House press dinner tomorrow night. I told Vanessa it was because we wanted to give the media a good impression of you so that they’ll cover the accord positively.
King Tut—yes, that was what she’d named him in her contacts list, and she thought it was terribly entertaining: I’ll cover your accord positively.
Lady Liberty: Sir, I believe you’re trying to talk dirty to me.
King Tut: Oh, the things I’ll whisper in your ear tomorrow night, madam. Starting with the way I’m going to suck your perkier parts and ending with the way I’m going to lick your wetter parts.
Lady Liberty: I know that there’s a blushing emoji, but I don’t know how to find it. My nieces always show those things to me.
King Tut: I adore making you blush, m’lady.
Lady Liberty: Well, you can do as much of it as you want after the dinner tomorrow.
Kamal smiled as he looked down at the phone.
“What’s got you so cheery?” Teague asked, walking into the office as if he owned the place.
Kamal set the phone facedown on his desk and schooled his expression. “Whatever it was has been extinguished in the face of you walking into my office without so much as a word of warning from my secretary. You brought her candy again, didn’t you?”
“Possibly,” Teague answered, sitting down in one of the leather armchairs facing Kamal’s desk.
“It doesn’t say much for my authority over my staff.” Kamal huffed in feigned indignation.
“No, but it says heaps about my sway with the ladies.” Teague winked and chuckled.
Kamal leaned back in his chair and toyed with a fountain pen. “So, what brings you by?”
“I have everything ready. All I need is your go-ahead to push the button.”
“Explain how it will all work?”
Teague leaned forward, drawing with his finger on the top of Kamal’s cherrywood desk as he explained. “I’ve set up offshore accounts, one for investments, one for savings, and one for immediate spending. Because of your diplomatic immunity, I don’t need to worry about specific citizenship requirements, and I was able to open the accounts per the requirements of the host country. The Swiss taxes aren’t going to be fun, but your money will be free of Egypt.”
“And what happens now?”
“Now we implement a three-phase plan. The first step is to have everything in your trust fund transferred because that money is yours, free and clear. The next step is to move everything in the joint accounts you have with your father. Because you’re not a minor, we don’t need his agreement to empty those accounts, but he will get a notification that it’s happened. My hope is that he won’t notice for a few days—not because of those accounts, they’ll already be emptied by the time he hears, but because of phase three, which involves the investments.
“Since you told me you’ve been the custodian of those investment accounts for the last several years, legally, if you take the interest and income that those have earned during your tenure as custodian, you’ve only taken what you yourself earned. If there are any investigations into your father’s financial dealings, the principle in those accounts could be scrutinized, but the interest that you caused to be earned as the money manager is at least cleaner if not clean.”
Kamal nodded, realizing for the first time since he’d begun the discussions with Teague that he was going to do this—separate from his father in an irrevocable way.
“The old man’s going to be livid,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“I think you’re doing the right thing—the sensible thing—if that’s any consolation,” Teague added.
“So, why are we worried he might find out about the investment accounts too early?”
“Because it takes three days for those monies to transfer. Investment companies aren’t in the business of making quick transfers the way banks are. So, even if we do it the same day as the banking transfers, it will take longer, and if the banking moves tip him off, he might stop the investments before they’re finalized.”
“But we can’t do the investments first because…?”
“If he finds out about them before we’ve hit the bank, he could stop the investment transfer and freeze all your ready cash.”
Kamal nodded. Realizing that for the first time in his entire life, he was going to have to consider how he paid for things—whether he could afford to do certain things. The money that Teague was going to rearrange for him was substantial—enough to last him a lifetime, but it was only one small portion of what his father had and what had always been at Kamal’s fingertips. His father had never put limitations on Kamal’s spending, only on his behavior, his occupations, his friendships, and his future.
“So the bottom line is we have to do all this in a specified order and as quickly as possible?”
“In a word, yes.”
“Okay,” Kamal said, taking a deep breath. “Do it.”
Teague nodded, pulled his phone from his pocket, and dialed a number. “It’s me,” he said. “Please commence maki
ng the transfers.” He listened for a moment, then said, “Thanks,” and disconnected, replacing the phone in his breast pocket.
“The trust fund has just been switched. My guy will have the bank accounts completed before end of business today, and we’ll hit the investments at six a.m. eastern time tomorrow when the servers open for business.”
“Thank you,” Kamal said, feeling somewhat numb inside.
Teague watched him for a moment. “What will he do—your father? You’ve never talked much about that part.”
Kamal leaned back in his chair, his face to the ceiling as he closed his eyes for just a second before turning his gaze to his friend. “He’ll disown me,” he said calmly. “Remove me from the will and refuse to allow anyone else in the family to see me or speak to me.”
“Jesus,” Teague breathed out. “Your sisters? Your brother, Amir?”
“They’ll still talk to me, but they’ll have to hide it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I, but if I’m honest, it’s been a long time coming. And maybe he’ll get over it, although I doubt it.”
Teague stood, walking to the bar in the corner and pouring himself a club soda. He also put a splash of scotch in a tumbler and walked back, handing it to Kamal without asking.
“If your mother were still alive, is that how it would play out?”
Kamal took a healthy slug of his drink. “My father is an Egyptian man. He’s the head of the family, but no, it wouldn’t have been the same. My mother would have made sure she and my sisters visited me twice a year and talked to me once a month as they always had, and my father would have turned a blind eye to it so that he didn’t have to try to force my mother to comply.”
Teague shook his head. “I remember when your mother and sisters would come for those visits. I’ve never seen the Oriental Mandarin in such a flurry as when the Masri women came for their biannual shopping trips.” He chuckled at the memory, and Kamal felt his heart squeeze.
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