by Shayla Black
The sheikh paused for a long moment, and Rory thought the man would simply walk away. Finally, Talib skewered him with a dark stare. “I have not been forced to watch my brothers struggle, but I have been where Oliver is. I know my own brothers worried for my life and they prayed Piper could be the one to save me. She did, but if I had not had their support and encouragement, I would never have touched her. Your heart is in the right place, Rory. You are simply approaching Tori in the wrong way. I was a brutal man before my Piper. The violence and betrayal I lived through exposed me to a side of the world most men are never forced to see. Afterward, I was a wounded animal, much like Oliver. I was dangerous to Piper then, but my brothers were there to ensure I could not hurt her. Well, not too much. I still hang my head in shame at some of the ways I pushed our wife away. Without my brothers, I would be alone in the world. If you love Tori, you will find a way to compromise with your brothers and work together to make her whole.”
“We don’t live in Bezakistan. Our world would never accept such a relationship.”
Talib put a hand on his shoulder. “If you aren’t ready to be the one to define what is and what isn’t acceptable to your world, then you are not ready to love Tori. I wish you all well, but we will be collecting our sister. I require some time with my queen now.”
He watched as the sheikh crossed the ballroom floor to stand with his brothers and their beautiful wife. They all welcomed him with open arms. Rafe moved to one side, ceding his place by Piper as though he understood his brother’s need. Talib kissed his wife, their hands tangling together. She squeezed his hand, and though Rory could see him shaking his head as if to say he was fine, Piper’s little frown said that she didn’t believe him. She leaned in, as though she could give him her strength.
What would having that sort of love feel like, with a woman who knew him well enough to see through well-meaning lies? And what would it feel like to know that no matter what happened to him, his wife would always have his brothers to lean on, to share her life with?
Talib al Mussad was a lucky man and not simply because of his birth.
“That is one lucky woman.” Claire threaded her arm through his as Callum headed toward the stage, notes in one hand, his public smile firmly in place.
“Funny. I was thinking the sheikh was a lucky man.” He glanced at his sister. She was always so reasonable, so intellectual. “You don’t think it would be hard to live in a way the rest of the world thinks is wrong?”
“Who cares what the world thinks, Rory? The world doesn’t hold you at night. The world doesn’t take care of you. So no, if I had the chance, I wouldn’t give a damn what the world thought. I would choose love.” She nodded to the stage. “Good. After Callum’s speech, we can start closing this thing down. I’m rather tired after all the dancing. Say, have you seen Oliver?”
Yes. He’d seen Oliver stalking after Tori like a lion about to tear apart a luscious little antelope. “No,” he lied. “I’m certain he’s around here somewhere.”
He had to hope Oliver wasn’t ruining the future for all of them.
* * * *
Oliver pressed Tori against the door, his cock shooting to life. Months—years, really—it seemed as if the damn thing had been completely apathetic. Oh, it functioned for the most part, but only in an obligatory capacity.
Now, fire rained down and passion pelted him. His cock pulsed with life, strictly because of her.
He covered her body with his, pressing his chest against the softness of her breasts, dying to be inside her. He wanted tonight to last because it was all he would ever allow himself to have of her.
“I’m not going to play the gentleman like my brother.”
“I don’t want you to.” The last thing she wanted now was gentle.
“Good, because I’m going to get inside you and I’m going to stay there for a good, long while.” He would take her again and again. When he was fully sated, maybe this terrible longing to be near her would dissipate and he could get back to his real life.
And she would move on with hers. Away from him because after tonight, Callum would have to see the sort of woman she really was.
But he didn’t care now. All he could think about was how soft she felt and how fucking sweet she seemed. He didn’t care if all that was an illusion he no longer believed. Right now, all that mattered was sinking into her for a few hours and forgetting anything else existed.
“Take it off. Now.”
“My dress?” Her breath caught. “I can’t reach the zipper.”
“I meant the ring. I’m not making love to you with that bloody thing on your finger.”
“I’m sorry.” She gripped it with her right thumb and forefinger and tossed it away as if it meant nothing. He heard it ping on the hardwood floor as it rolled away. “I shouldn’t have even tried it. I was very foolish. It’s nothing, Oliver. It was a stupid idea.”
Yes, marriage was a very stupid idea, especially with her. She was dangerous to his peace of mind, and he wouldn’t marry again. His brothers and sister could do all the heir making for the family. He was through with silly notions of faithful love.
He pressed his hand up her body and cupped her pert breast. Even through the material of her gown, he could sense how soft that skin was going to be. Touching her was what mattered. Sex with her right now mattered. He could scratch his itch, then send her back to the idiot who planned to marry her. And if she thought she’d traded up… Well, he would make sure she understood the way of the world come morning.
He slammed his mouth over hers, taking possession with a slow grind of his hips timed to his moving tongue. She opened to him, softened under him, throwing her arms around his neck and clutching him close. Those pretty lips flowered open under his sensual assault and her tongue came out to shyly brush his.
Pure fire whipped through his system. He craved her, needed her—and that rankled him. He’d nearly lost her to a thug who’d meant to gut her with that knife. Now, he needed to drag her skirt up and shove his cock deep in order to remind himself she was still warm and alive.
He fumbled for the zipper at her back and jerked it down. He lacked all his usual grace and nearly ripped the designer gown off in his haste to touch her skin. Now that he was kissing her, giving in to his desire, he wouldn’t tolerate anything between them.
She gasped as he tugged at the bodice of the dress, freeing her breasts. She raised her hands, covering the plump mounds.
He stepped back with an arched brow. Was she going to play innocent? “No games, Tori. You either want me or you don’t. If you do, I want to see what you’re offering me. Show me your breasts.”
She hesitated, biting her lip and breathing hard. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders. Her blue eyes clung to him, almost pleading. But he’d told her what he needed from her—his stare on her body now.
When she didn’t obey, he almost turned away. His cock practically howled at the notion, but he wouldn’t get on his knees and beg and pledge his devotion. This wasn’t about love. It was about possession. Obsession. He needed to take her once and purge the emotion forever.
“All right.” Her voice shook. “But if you laugh at me, I’ll kick you in the groin, and right now that looks like it could hurt.”
Slowly, Tori lowered her hands, revealing her breasts. They weren’t huge, just two perfect handfuls. Creamy ivory skin with pink-tipped nipples teased him. Those hard tips looked like they longed to be sucked and tormented with his teeth and tongue.
“Why would I laugh?” He sidled closer again. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
A confused little frown flitted across her face. “Earlier, I got the idea that you don’t like me anymore, Oliver. I thought you only wanted me for revenge, though I don’t understand why. I know I shouldn’t have let Callum kiss me any more than I should let you.”
Let? He wanted to growl at her to try to stop him, but that would make him no better than the bastard who had held a knife to her. “Why are you letting
me then? I’m going to do a hell of a lot more than kiss you, Tori.”
“I want to know how it feels to make love to a man I want. Maybe it’s not smart, but it’s honest.”
He had to hand it to her. She knew exactly how to manipulate him. Everything about her—from the way her lip trembled to the innocent bat of her lashes—called to his long dormant protective streak. “This isn’t love. It’s sex. If you want love, you should call my brother. I’m sure he’ll play to your fantasy.”
“Oliver, I know you don’t love me, but please, just promise me one thing.”
Ah, here it was, the bargaining. He could have her in bed if he would just buy her this or that. He hoped she wouldn’t go too far. He was willing to pay for his pleasure, but he wasn’t going to promise her devotion or shackle himself to her for life. “What?”
“Be kind to me. I’m leaving anyway, so I’m just asking that you be kind to me for one night. You don’t have to pretend to love me, but can you make believe you like me? The way you did before?”
He had liked her. Tori was smart and funny, and he felt alive when she entered a room. They’d spent hours going over strategy to fix the company image. She likely didn’t know it, but he’d drawn those meetings out simply because he enjoyed being in a room with her. He’d liked her quite a bit until she’d proven herself to be just another faithless cheat.
Not all relationships were as bad as his, Oliver knew. Sometimes things didn’t work out, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault. She’d been away from her fiancé for half a year and the bugger had never visited her. Could she be blamed for craving someone’s touch?
Why was she asking him for the one thing she should always expect from a lover? How had the men in her past treated her? “I do like you. I simply cannot love you, and that’s a very good reason for me to walk away.”
She released the dress and let it drop to the floor. His breath caught.
“I don’t need love,” Tori murmured. “I just want to feel something I’ve never felt before. I realized that if that attacker in the lobby killed me, I wouldn’t have left this earth with very many precious memories. I would have lived all these years and experienced nothing joyful that really made me feel alive. I might regret this choice but… Make me feel, Oliver.”
He needed to feel, too. It had been so long since he’d had a woman soft and giving against him, and after no more than a few kisses with Tori, he had to wonder if he’d ever experienced anything truly real before. Sliding her lush curves against him and delving into her sweet mouth was more visceral than anything he’d ever imagined.
At the realization, Oliver hesitated. He had the feeling that if he went through with this, if he lost himself in her now, he might never be found again.
She touched his cheek, fingertips gossamer soft. “Please…”
He couldn’t refuse her.
Oliver wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to his body. She was completely naked, utterly vulnerable to him. He kissed her, tongue sweeping deep inside her mouth while he explored the smooth skin of her back with eager palms. He brushed his fingers down the graceful length of her spine, nearly down to that glorious round arse he’d dreamed about.
His cock nudged her belly, desperate to be free and to feel her. He was dying for her touch.
He sank his hand into her hair and gently pulled her head back. In the moonlight, her lips looked sweetly bruised by his rough kisses. For a night, he could pretend she was his to do with as he pleased. He intended to indulge to the fullest. “Tori, undress me.”
With a jerky nod, she raised trembling hands to his tuxedo coat and eased it off his shoulders. The second she touched him, Oliver’s entire body jolted with electric desire. Patience. He forced himself to stand still as she hung the jacket on a nearby rack, then while her pink-tipped fingers worked his tie and unfastened each button down his shirt. She blinked shyly at him as she pushed the shirt off his torso.
His patience fled. He toed out of his loafers and reached for his belt. The minute his trousers were off he was going to start teaching her exactly how he liked to be pleasured.
With that thought, Oliver realized this was precisely what he needed. Why should he spend his time alone? Life was about negotiating the best terms of payment, and he could afford Tori Glen. He could train her to cater to his physical needs. In return, he could set her up in a much better flat. Her only job would be to satisfy him sexually.
He didn’t have to love her. He could put her in a nice, sumptuously appointed box and they would both have what they wanted.
With unsteady fingers, she pushed aside his hands and unfastened his belt, and an unwanted compassion flitted through him. She’d had a hell of a night. If she needed to slow down and take a breath, he would make sure she did. “Do you need more time, darling? I won’t force you to do anything before you’re ready, but I will ask for what I want. And I want your mouth on me.”
She tilted her chin up, her eyes widening. “You want a blow job.”
He chuckled a bit because she whispered the words like a teenager afraid her mother would overhear. “Yes. I want that sweet mouth on my cock. I want your tongue to lick every inch of me.”
Tori straightened her shoulders. “Maybe I want that, too. Except for you to put your mouth on my…down there.” She frowned, looking like a curious little kitten. “On my...I believe you Brits call it a fanny, though that’s not what it means in America, so I wish you would all stop laughing at me when I talk about a fanny pack.”
He grinned, drawing her back to him, and he couldn’t remember a woman who pleased him more. “I promise not to laugh at your fanny. Why don’t we call it your pussy, darling? We’ll make a deal. You learn how I want you to suck my cock, and I’ll eat your sweet pussy.”
She swallowed hard and nodded, her fingers back to untangling his belt. “I want to know how both of those feel.”
Oliver had to hand it to her. Clever manipulation, intimating that he was the only man in the world she could possibly want and that sex with him would be so different. Of course it wasn’t true since he’d caught her on the verge of fucking his younger brother, but he couldn’t bring himself to call her on it. If he did, then he had to leave the fantasy, too, and there would be time enough for that in the morning. Now, he wanted to forget his earlier jealousy and pretend a bit. He liked the world she wove around him. As long as he remembered it wasn’t real, it was safe to indulge.
Finally, she slipped his belt free, and he could feel his unruly cock nearly thumping against his trousers, desperate to get out. “Be careful with the zip.”
It would be easier to do it himself, but he liked the idea of her preparing him before she got to her knees and served him.
With careful fingers, she lowered the zip and shoved his knickers aside. His cock bobbed between them, and the little sound she made soothed his ego.
Impatiently, he shoved everything off his hips and kicked it aside. “Touch me, Tori.”
She stared at his cock and petted him softly, reverently. He couldn’t take that.
Oliver gripped her hand and clamped it around his stalk. “Don’t be gentle. I like it rough. Hold it tight and stroke it like this.”
He had no idea why she was playing the innocent. From the doorway of the conference room at the hotel earlier, he’d watched her with her legs spread, luxuriating in his brother’s touch and moaning. But suddenly she behaved as if she was so damn inexperienced that he had to explain how to stroke a cock? If this was another ploy of hers, Oliver would give her credit. She was a master.
Her hands trembled as he demonstrated exactly how he wanted her to handle his erection. She cast her gaze down, watching as he guided her to pump his cock in long passes that had his whole body tightening in anticipation.
Over and over, he guided her hand over his dick. How long had it been since he’d felt this good? This right? He should be thanking Callum for forcing the issue earlier in the evening. Now he didn’t have to play the gentleman. He coul
d take what he wanted and they could come to a proper arrangement—one that didn’t involve either of his brothers.
Oliver wasn’t an idiot. He knew Rory fancied himself in love with Tori and had been willing to sacrifice because he’d thought she would bring his oldest brother back to life. How would Rory feel about giving up the woman he loved when he learned Oliver wanted her as a mistress and nothing more? Would that finally break his youngest brother?
He shoved the guilt aside. After everything he’d been through, the universe owed him and he intended to take it from her. Of course he’d also make certain to drench her in pleasure, but he refused to sit around feeling guilty another second. She’d agreed to be his lover tonight. She’d tossed her ring aside like a piece of garbage.
She was fair game.
“Get on your knees. I want your mouth on me.” He helped her to the floor. Seeing her beneath him, her hair flowing around her shoulders, he had to catch his breath. She was so beautiful he could almost buy what she was selling, likely would have had Yasmin not given him such a horrifically useful life lesson. His late wife had actually done him a favor. If not for her, he might have loved Tori with everything he had, and her eventual betrayal would have been worse than Yasmin’s. He’d always kept a tiny part of himself from Yasmin that he doubted he could have managed with Tori. Now he could enjoy her properly, without surrendering his heart.
“Should I use my hands, too? Or just my mouth?” The husky but sweet sound of her voice made his cock tighten painfully.
He liked this game of hers. He could pretend she was new to all of this, that she’d saved herself for him. “Grip it like I taught you and lick the head as if it’s something sweet you want to devour.”
Her soft fingers encased his cock just before her tongue darted out for a taste. A sizzle slid down his spine. He groaned. God, it would be so easy for her to undo him. She swiped her tongue across the head tentatively, as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do but was willing to try. He thrust his hands into her hair to steady himself while he fought the urge to shove his way deep inside her mouth.
