by Krista Lakes
Owen's speed increased, his hips bucking back and forth, putting his hands on my hips to guide me where he wanted. The heat of his hands, the motion of his hips, the breathless groans of delight were sending me toward climax. I could tell he was climbing with me, the two of us crashing into sweet oblivion at the same time.
His thrusting slowed, and my body trembled from pleasure rather than cold. I felt like I might never stop shaking and I was all right with that. Owen turned me toward him, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me deeply.
"You're still too cold," he said with a grin, gently pushing me toward the steaming glass shower. I stepped inside, letting the hot water sluice down my body. My feet burned a little as the lingering cold finally escaped my flesh. Owen closed the glass door behind him, looking me up and down with obvious approval.
"What?" I asked, catching the hot water in my hands and pouring it over my shoulders.
"You are just so damn beautiful," he said softly, the word beautiful echoing off the glass walls. "Turn around."
I turned so I was facing the shower head, a blush heating my face from the compliment. When Owen said I was beautiful, I believed him.
Owen placed one hand on my bicep, wrapping the other around to my front. I moaned softly as he explored my feminine folds, questing for my pleasure center. He found it quickly, letting out a raw sound of male appreciation at my wetness. Using soft circles, he began to massage and tease, coaxing me toward bliss. I leaned back into him, letting myself get lost in the moment.
"You are so incredibly sexy," he whispered, his lips brushing against my shoulder and adding to the fabulous sensations coursing through my body. "You turn me on so much. I love the way you taste."
My body started to tremble, his words and fingers sending me to the point of no return. He kept whispering in my ear, "You feel so tight and amazing. You feel so good. Come for me, Kaylee."
With a cry, my body shuddered, the lights swirling into a kaleidoscope of color and pleasure. My knees buckled, unable to support the sheer volume of bliss coursing through me. Owen held me up, his fingers still working their magic, making my body vibrate with bliss.
When he finally released me, my breaths came in ragged pants. His arms stayed strong around me, holding me so I wouldn't fall to my knees in happy surrender. He kissed my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine. I turned slowly to find him breathing almost as hard as I was.
The lights suddenly flickered as thunder boomed, shaking the windows outside. Owen and I exchanged a quick glance before promptly exiting the shower. I glanced at the mirror and started laughing, Owen joining in as he followed my gaze.
The mirror was littered with hand-prints. It was incredibly obvious exactly what we had been doing, the perfect mirror smudged with our escapades. Owen let out a hearty chuckle, pulling me into him for yet another mind-blowing kiss.
"Be right back," he finally whispered, letting me go. I stood there for a moment, dizzy from his kiss. Thunder boomed again, but the lights stayed bright. I had completely forgotten about the balcony doors until I heard Owen closing them. I smiled as I wrapped myself up in a towel, knowing he was making sure the room was warm for me.
Owen opened the door, the steam leaking out into the main room as he stepped inside wearing one of the hotel's voluminous robes. He handed me a second, the material soft and luxurious. I followed him out. The room dark. He hopped on the bed and motioned me to follow.
Lightning illuminated the sky through the windows. Owen had drawn the drapes back so we could watch the night sky light up. I cuddled into the nook of his shoulder, a delightful warm drowsy feeling washing over me. The sky lit up as thunder echoed through the city buildings, shaking windows and rattling doors. I wasn't scared, though. With Owen holding me, the world could end, and I would still be safe.
Chapter 17
The plane touched down and woke me from the blurry vestiges of a strange dream. As I opened my eyes sleepily, I saw Owen's smiling face. It had been a rough flight. The first four hours, Owen had managed to keep me relatively calm and distracted, but when we hit a patch of turbulence, I had lost it. Luckily, Owen had convinced me to take some medication to help me relax, and then had held me until I fell asleep. I was safe in his arms, and I managed to sleep through the rest of the flight, albeit with very strange dreams. Presently, the medication was still in my system, but at least this time I was going to get off the airplane and not have a wicked hangover.
"Good morning, gorgeous. Welcome to Dubai." He kissed me gently and pushed open one of the window shades. Bright white sunshine poured into the dimly lit cabin, making me blink. I fumbled in my bag for a brush, ran it through my hair, then quickly gathered my things to get off the plane.
As the door opened, I felt a blast of heat, like I had just stepped into an oven. Nothing could have prepared me for how hot it was. Not even when I had gone to the Caribbean had I ever been this hot. There was no moisture in the air here, no clouds. No wonder it was a desert, I thought. I was used to summers in Iowa, where the humidity and the heat make the corn grow sweet, but this was a different kind of heat. Sand and blue skies were all I could see, and everything seemed to be reflecting the gleaming sunlight back upon itself.
The airport where we had landed was small and obviously for wealthy clients with private jets. I felt like a movie star as I walked down the stairs and onto a red carpeted walkway.
A private car was waiting to take us to our hotel. I wondered what a city would look like in this part of the world. As someone who never expected to travel, and never had the desire to either, I hadn't paid much attention to the places I could go. Even when Owen had told me where we were going, my knowledge was limited and scattered.
I had began to watch a brief “Cultural Awareness“ video while we were on the airplane, but I hadn't lasted long. All I knew about Dubai was that it was known for its oil and that the world's tallest building, the Burj Khalifa, was located there.
I looked out the window as the city came into view and gasped. It was quite possibly the most unique city I could have imagined. The pictures online didn't do it justice. Skyscrapers soared into the atmosphere, their shapes almost whimsical. I could see part of the Burj Khalifa as we drove closer, its spire threading into the sky past where I could follow it. The thought of going to the top made my stomach feel a little queasy.
The car drove us through the city, whose buildings were all beautiful and unique. I had expected it to look like New York City, or maybe Chicago, but this was beyond anything I could have imagined. I smiled as I gazed at the structure. I didn't know that it was possible to make skyscrapers that looked like sailboats.
The car slowly worked it's way toward the base of the massive tower of the Burj Khalifa. At 2,722 feet and 162 floors: it dominated the skyline. My neck ached as I craned it backward to see the top, but we were too close and the tower was too tall. The car dropped us off, and Owen and I headed inside the main lobby.
Everything inside was sleek and modern, made for a worldwide stage. Businessmen in western attire mingled with men wearing the traditional long white dishdasha. A woman in a hijab stood next to a Russian woman in jeans and a tank-top, both of them waiting for their husbands. I tried my best not to stare at the non-Western clothing, but it was just something that I had never seen before. It was exotic and very, very foreign.
Owen didn't stop to check in at the desk, he just headed straight for the elevators. The shiny doors closed and shot us up fast enough to make my ears pop. Owen led me confidently out of the elevator and down a hallway, apparently very used to the layout of the place as he spent so much time here for his business trips,. A man was waiting for us outside of a dark wooden door. I smiled as I recognized who it was. At least not everything was foreign here.
Dean grinned as soon as he saw us, quickly sliding a keycard into the door and opening it. As I walked past, he touched my shoulder and whispered, "I'm glad you made it." I couldn't help but flash him a grin, glad to have another fa
miliar face in a sea of new ones.
"How did you get here? Aren't you supposed to be watching Emma?" I asked him.
Dean shrugged. "She asked if I could switch with Mr. Parker's usual bodyguard for the trip. Mr. Saunders was all too happy to agree. Besides,“ he said with a quick grin. “I thought you could use the friendly face."
"You know me too well," I said softly as I stepped through the door. I sent Emma a silent thank you. Knowing I had Dean looking out for me, someone I already trusted, made the idea of being somewhere so foreign easier.
Owen sat down on a white, beautifully upholstered sofa, kicking his shoes off and relaxing for a moment. He watched me as I explored the room like a little kid, grinning at my shock at the size and lavishness of it all. There was a study with a giant TV, a huge and inviting bedroom with a massive bathroom, and a living room bigger than my apartment. The bar and pantry were better stocked than my own, but I forgot it all when I saw the view. From the windows, I could see the city, the desert, and even a sliver of the Gulf glimmering in the distance. It was absolutely breathtaking.
"What do you think?" Owen asked with a grin as I found my way back to the living room. He lounged comfortably on the couch as though he had always lived there. Unable to find the words I needed, my mouth opened and closed like a fish.
"This room is nicer than my parents' house. I can't wrap my head around how big this place is. I didn't know this level of niceness even existed. I don't think this even qualifies as a hotel anymore. I'm in awe."
Owen laughed and stood. He walked over to me and kissed me affectionately on the nose.
"I'm glad you like it. Make yourself comfortable.“ He began to throw on his suit jacket again. “I need to get some work done in the office, but come in if you need anything. I'd suggest something simple for dinner tonight, but we already have plans. I know you must be jet-lagged, but I need you to be ready to go to the sheik's palace tonight for dinner. I'm sorry."
I nodded, accepting the apology, and Owen smiled at me. He turned and entered the study, closing the door gently behind him. In my mind's eye, I could see him opening his laptop and setting up his phone, placing everything he needed just so on the desk before getting to work. It made me smile as I headed toward the bedroom to unpack and settle in.
***
Rachel and Emma had done well at their job of picking out my clothes. Owen's eyes practically popped out of his head when he saw me in the formal dinner dress they had chosen. It was a deep hue of blue that reminded me of twilight, right as stars start to appear but before the moon rises. The sweetheart cut would have been out of place for a conservative dinner, but with a skin-tight long-sleeve lace overlay the length of the dress, only discrete windows of my skin were exposed. I felt like something out of a fashion magazine. As we walked into the sheik's mansion, I knew that that was the point. I was here as Owen's arm candy tonight.
Sheik Mohammad al-Saffar greeted us warmly as we entered a large open room in the center of what I could only call a palace. Marble archways and lavish gardens made his home exactly what I had imagined the castle from Aladdin to look like in real life.
The older gentleman wore the traditional white dishdasha that I was already associating with the Middle East. He looked exactly like what I thought a sheik would look like. "Mr. Parker, what a pleasure," the sheik greeted Owen with perfect, though slightly accented, English. I wasn't quite sure what I had been expecting, but it wasn't that.
Owen had warned me that as a woman, and not party to the negotiations going on through DS Oil and Gas, I would largely be ignored. I chose not to be slighted as the sheik only nodded, but never spoke to me. As the two men conversed, I followed them into a large dining area. A table big enough to feed a small city dominated the center of the room, and delicious smells were wafting off of covered plates waiting to be devoured.
As the three of us entered the airy room, a young man stood and gracefully padded over to greet us. He wore a western outfit of gray slacks and a white short-sleeved shirt with a collar. He couldn't have been more than a year or two older than I was, with perfect olive skin, dark eyes, and eyelashes that seemed to go on into infinity. He broke into a bright smile as he held out his hand to greet us.
"This is my son, Rashid." The sheik introduced the young man, a proud smile lighting his creased face. It was easy to see that Rashid was his father's pride and joy. Owen shook the younger man's hand, and then followed the father toward the dinner table.
"Please, call me Roger. It's so much easier that way," the young man said without a trace of his father's accent. He reached out his hand to shake mine. I took his hand, surprised at the strength and heat in his fingers. He stared into my eyes, making my cheeks flush when he didn't release my hand. The blush only seemed to amuse him, and he gave me a crooked smirk, knowing that he had flustered me.
I withdrew my hand and hurried to the table. I sat down next to Owen, and Roger took his place across the table from me with his father. The two business men jumped into a conversation regarding their oil dealings almost immediately, using the dinner as a sort of informal business meeting. Roger and I sat quietly as they spoke, his eyes catching mine as often as he could. I shifted in my seat. I was unable to put my finger on it, but something about him made me anxious.
Roger grinned at me, making sure he had my attention as he licked his lips suggestively. I felt the blush start again, but I tried to ignore the flustered feeling rising in my stomach.
I was with Owen. I thought it was fairly clear that I was taken, but Roger didn't seem to care, flirting openly with me across the table, even with Owen right there. I didn't want to do anything that could jeopardize Owen's business dealings, and making the sheik's son unhappy would not indenture any good will, so I sat quietly and focused on the food in front of me, avoiding his smiles.
It wasn't hard to concentrate on the food, though as I had never experienced anything quite like this. There were roasted scallops with black truffles, pan-fried sea bass in a zesty lemon caper sauce, freshly sauteed dandelion root with onion salad, and for dessert something called la sfera. It was a beautiful creation of vanilla cream, violet crème brulee, and cassis sorbet that resembled an edible Faberge egg.
We ate until I was sure I couldn't eat another bite. As a waiter quietly picked up the empty dessert trays, Sheik al-Saffar leaned back in his chair, musing over something Owen had said. He and Owen had spent the entire meal debating various points of the contract that Owen was attempting to secure for Jack's company. This dinner was never meant for me, so I didn't mind the two of them talking shop the entire time. From what little I could understand of their oil jargon, it seemed to be going well.
I was slightly unnerved, however, by Roger's constant attention. He hadn't said a word over dinner, but his eyes had never left me. I felt like he wanted to have me for dinner instead of the sea bass, and he was just waiting to find the opportune moment to catch me. I shivered slightly, but not from cold.
The sheik and Owen stood as soon as the last plates were cleared away, and they walked somewhat sedately toward an attached room with a large TV screen. They wanted to look at one of the advertising campaigns Owen had created for selling al-Saffar's oil to new markets. I smiled for a moment as I knew that meant Owen's task was going well, but then frowned as I realized it meant that Roger and I were left alone at the table.
"Have you ever been to Paris?" Roger asked, playing with a water glass. There was something to the motion that made me uncomfortable. I pushed aside my feelings of discomfort, determined to do my best to help Owen out. If I was going to be traveling with him, I would have to get good at being a well-behaved guest.
"No. This is actually the first time I've been out of the country. Well, other than to the Caribbean, but that almost doesn't count." I gave him my most diplomatic smile and hoped he wouldn't see right through it. I didn't really want to talk to him.
"Would you like to?" He dipped his finger into the glass.
"Um, mayb
e someday. I've never really had the opportunity to travel, so I've never really thought about it." I gave myself a mental pat on the back for the smooth answer.
"I meant, would you like to go there with me?" He raised his wet finger to his lips, sucking the moisture from his fingertip. I swallowed hard.
"As long as Owen gets to come too," I answered. I hoped that reminding him that I was here with Owen would make him back off. I didn't like how this conversation was going.
"I was thinking just the two of us. It is the city of love, after all." He smiled suggestively at me. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My brain was scrambling for a diplomatic answer, one that wouldn't make the situation more awkward. Something that would help Owen land this contract.
He laughed, delighting in my discomfort. I played with my water glass, biting the inside of my cheek. If I had been back home I would have told him off. I would have walked out or found someone else to talk to, but I couldn't here. I had to be polite and not do those things for Owen's sake. I couldn't let him down.
"That's a kind offer, but I'm afraid I'm not interested." I finally managed to get out the words, even punctuating them with a smile. His eyes narrowed on me and I felt like a bug caught under a magnifying glass.
"What would you like to do tomorrow, then?"
Nothing with you, I wanted to scream. I glanced over to where I had seen Owen last, glad to see him heading back my direction.
"I'm afraid I have a very busy schedule." That sounded diplomatic enough to me.
"You and I are going to see each other. I'll see to it. I think we could do some amazing things together." The way he said it almost sounded like a threat.
"You'll have to clear that with Owen. He is the one in charge of where I go and who I see." Owen and the sheik paused in a doorway, talking like old friends. I hoped Owen would come back to the table soon. This conversation was making me very uncomfortable, and I wanted it to stop. I didn't want to be diplomatic to Roger anymore.
