The Sheikh's Pregnant Fling (Azhar Sheikhs Book 2)

by Leslie North

  Her hands drifted to his belt, undoing it like she’d done it a million times before. She snapped it out of his belt loops and then dropped it to the ground unceremoniously. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it might damage the floor or his belt buckle, but then the true voice of reason emerged: to hell with it.

  Cassandra’s small fingers made quick work of his zipper and pushed his pants down until they bunched at his knees, their kiss never breaking. She palmed the ridge of his cock through his briefs. He moaned low. “Habibiii…”

  She looked up at him with a sexy smirk. “What did you say?”

  He blinked a few times as her fingers circled the head of his cock, squeezing it gently. It was so hard to think while she touched him. “I don’t know. What did I say?”

  She palmed his cock again and then dipped her hand beneath the elastic of his briefs. Her cool hand fisted him, thumb making swirls over the tip of his cockhead.

  “Mmmm…” The word came to him. “Habibi.”

  “There it is.” She shoved the briefs down, his cock springing free. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s Arabic. Loosely translated, it means ‘baby.’” More accurately, it meant “my love,” but he didn’t want to drop that on her; she’d flee for sure. He ran his hand over her shoulder, his eyes glued to her grip on his cock. She started a quick, tight rhythm that made his knees weak, right at the top of his shaft where he loved it. Like she fucking knew the quickest way to make him come.

  “Mmm.” He wet his lower lip, unable to look away. “It’s so sexy watching you do this.”

  She drew a low breath, her grip tightening. He’d blow his load if she kept that up, and it couldn’t happen so quickly.

  “It’s kinda hot being exposed, too,” she whispered, her voice sounding far away. “Like maybe we have an audience out there.”

  He chuckled, stilling her hand, feeling the tight prickle in his groin that warned him he was close. “If that’s the case, we better give them a show.”

  He tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, his own words ringing in his ears like someone else had said them. He tugged her bra down so her breasts spilled out over top. She gasped and arched toward him, legs spreading wider. He tutted, shaking his head.

  “These need to come off.” He unbuttoned her pants and guided her to slide off the table so he could push her pants off. He stepped out of his own trousers and removed his briefs for good measure. When Cassandra started to push her panties down, he stopped her and lifted her back onto the table.

  “I want to do it with them on,” he said softly, dragging his thumb over the crease of her pussy. She inhaled sharply, legs widening again. He slipped a finger beneath the damp fabric, pleased by how wet she was, the slickness reserved just for him. He moaned low, plunging a finger into her depths, eyes fluttering shut as he relished how tight she was.

  “You feel too good,” he said, bringing her hard against him. She hooked her ankles behind his back, leaning back on the dining room table as if proffering herself for his pleasure.

  “Take me, Nasir.”

  He took a small bite at her shoulder, pushing aside the scrap of fabric as his cockhead slipped against the folds of her pussy, seeking that familiar hot entrance. He groaned into her shoulder when he found it, stilling himself before he plunged deep, gathering her against him like she might drift away.

  And then he pressed himself inside her, lusciously slow, relishing each new inch as if it were his first time all over again. She whimpered, digging her fingernails into his back as he found the final inch. He gyrated in a slow circle against her, loving the way her hair fell across her face as she tilted her head away, mouth parted with pleasure, brows furrowed into a tight line.

  “Please,” she whispered, voice weak.

  His lips drifted over her forehead, mind cloudy from the feel of her velvety heat wrapped tight around him. “Please what, habibi?”

  She laughed low, eyes drifting shut. “God, it’s sexy when you call me that.”

  If that was sexy to her, he had a whole slew of things he could tell her in Arabic. Maybe that would make her stay, once the haze of sexual euphoria cleared and she threatened to run. Like he knew she would.

  “You’re my habibi.” He said it factually, gripping both ass cheeks in his hands as he started a slow, forceful rhythm against her. Pulling away until he almost slipped out, then easing back inside in a glorious rush.

  She grinned, draping her head against his shoulder. “Say more.”

  “Baladay almalak aljamil,” he whispered into her ear, tensing his butt cheeks as he thrust into her again.

  “Mmmm.” She hooked her arms around his neck, tilting her head back to look at him. “What does that mean?”

  “My beautiful angel.” He ground his pelvis against her, starting a slow roll. She gasped, thighs tightening around him like a vice.

  “Don’t stop,” she breathed, arching, holding herself against him in a particular spot.

  He grabbed big handfuls of her ass, squeezing her hips, angling his head to commit this view of her to memory. He rolled against her until desperation took over, and then he pumped fast, in and out, long hot thrusts that made pleasure churn deep in his belly. Sweat prickled at his temples as he fucked her, the wet slaps of their skin a mesmerizing rhythm.

  She squealed and clutched at him, her pussy contracting in waves around him, signaling her release. He grunted and pumped harder, gathering her against him as the pleasure gathered and then broke, cascading into a million tendrils through every cell in his body. He groaned, hugging her tight, chest heaving as he pressed his lips into her hair.

  She drew a shaky breath, fingernails biting into the sides of his waist. “Oh, my God. That was intense, Nasir.”

  Intense didn’t cover it. He never wanted her to get off this table. He dragged his lips over her forehead, throat tightening. “Among other things.”

  She laughed a little, silent for a few moments before she shifted, straightening. He could sense her pulling away—not just physically, but closing the doorway he’d managed to break through. She’d seal it up tight again, just like he’d feared.

  She pressed against his chest and he stepped away, his cock slipping out of her, a draft of air coming between them that felt as cold and thick as a glacier. He watched helplessly as she reached for her clothes, tugging them on with her back turned to him. Tension hung in the air, bloated and awkward.

  Nasir pulled his briefs on and then his pants. As he fastened them, the silence between them became deafening.

  “Cassandra, why don’t you spend the—”

  “I should go.”

  They both spoke at the same time. Nasir sighed tersely. “Why do you want to leave?”

  “This was inappropriate.” She shook her head, nostrils flaring. “I’m a little upset with myself, so I should go.”

  “Upset with yourself?” He reached for her, but she dodged him. “Cassandra, this was both of us. I wish you wouldn’t feel badly about what happened. It’s natural…and inevitable.”

  “Exactly. Which is why I shouldn’t be working with you anymore.” She tucked her shirt into her work pants, her mouth a thin line. “If this gets out, it will ruin my career. And apparently I can’t help myself, so something needs to change.”

  Nasir wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or concerned. “This won’t get out. I promise. I have no interest in ruining your career.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Thank you. I believe that.”

  “Why don’t you stay the night?”

  Her gaze swung to meet his, prickly and intense. “Are you serious?”

  Nasir straightened. “Of course. We were having a lovely evening.”

  “Yes, a lovely work evening.” She sighed, gathering her papers from the table. “What do you want from me?”

  The question landed like a spear in the gut. It wasn’t a simple question, but rather rimmed with barbed wire. If he told her what he really wanted from her, she’
d shoot out the door faster than a bullet. I want to be with you. It feels right. He had to answer carefully—to strategize. What was the simplest, the most honest-yet-soothing? “I’d like to spend more time with you.”

  “That’s the one thing I shouldn’t do.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, her tone sawing at his patience. “Well, what do you want from me?”

  She cleared her throat as she packed up her briefcase. “I want you to respect my career.”

  Silence settled between them, heavy like a dense fog. He had nowhere to go from here. If that was how she wanted things, then he had to respect that. He’d barely found the time to go on an arranged date due to his own commitment to his career. If Cassandra was cut from that same cloth, he had to respect it.

  “I would never do anything to ruin it,” he said in a soft voice, turning away from her.

  But what about us? The question hung in the back of his throat, bulky and foreign, with no way to speak the words.

  “I’ll send you the information about the lunch dates,” Cassandra said a few moments later, her voice quiet and calm. She headed toward the door and he slunk down the hall behind her, his limbs a confusing mess of post-coital body buzz and disappointment.

  Nasir didn’t say anything, just held the door open as she slipped into her heels and then strode out of the penthouse. He watched her get on the elevator, hoping she might glance at him, waiting for even a scorching millisecond of recognition or doubt or regret.

  Cassandra kept her lips pursed and eyes on the ground, the elevator doors sliding shut, removing her from his life.

  13

  Cassandra sighed, tugging the waistband of her leggings up over her belly bulge for the hundredth time that morning. She’d been working from home almost exclusively the past couple weeks, once she realized her belly had bulged into “definitely baby” and was no longer “questionable bloating.” She wasn’t ready to tell coworkers, not even Laura. As far as she could see, she had two options available to her: the truth, which would jeopardize her career and involve a lot of explanation she wasn’t ready to give; or acting like she had no idea, which somehow seemed worse, like maybe she participated in some sort of secret sexual underworld nobody knew about.

  So remote work it was. Until she could muster the courage to ask for Laura’s advice. She, at least, would keep her secret long enough to help her figure out the smart career move. Keeping this information from her boss was key, though. This slip-up couldn’t follow her, if she needed to switch agencies.

  As if she could sense her thoughts, Laura sent a message using their work messaging client. “Hey girl. You around? I need some advice.”

  Cassandra clucked her tongue. Funny, I was thinking the same about you. She typed back a quick response. “I’m here and ready. What is it?”

  “The file you passed me a few months ago…do you remember? The Middle Eastern guy, Nasir? He’s ten matches deep and still no dice.”

  Cassandra’s hand went to her belly as she read the message. She couldn’t fight the smile that crossed her face. Was it wrong to feel a little bit happy about that, even though they would have never worked out? She hadn’t even seen him for months. “Man. Some guys are just impossible to please.”

  “You’re telling me. But get this—threw me a curveball earlier this week. He updated his profile, but it’s completely different. It’s like a whole new guy, I swear to God.”

  Cassandra furrowed a brow, re-reading her words a few times. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she wrote back. “Seriously? That’s so odd…just out of curiosity, could I see it? For informational purposes, of course. I’ve never had something like this happen, would like to see what he changed.”

  She nibbled on a nail, awaiting Laura’s response. Peeking at other agents’ profiles was a big no-no, but maybe it would slide since Nasir had technically been her client for a while.

  “Totally. You worked with him before, so maybe you can explain this change. I certainly don’t get it. Would love any insight. I feel like I should charge him double. LOL”

  Her e-mail client dinged with a new arrival, and she flipped over to the program, mouse hovering over the message. What would be in there? People never changed their profiles to the extent Laura alluded to. It just didn’t make sense.

  Her cell phone rang, short annoying beeps that meant her alarm was going off. She grabbed it, a reminder waiting on the screen: “Appt w/gyno.”

  She inhaled sharply, springing up from the couch. She’d forgotten entirely, and she still had to get across town. If she called a rideshare immediately, she’d probably make it, but only by the skin of her teeth. This was an important appointment, too, one she’d rescheduled twice now simply due to anxiety: the first ultrasound.

  After she’d called for the ride, Cassandra rushed to gather her purse and a novel and bolted out of the apartment. The taxi showed up within minutes, one of the pluses of big city life immediately tempered by the half-hour drive to make it only two and a half miles. Fueled by nervous energy and the need for distraction, she finished three chapters of her book before the taxi pulled up at the doctor’s office. She hurried toward the front door, tugging her leggings up over her belly yet again.

  Inside the doctor’s office, she sat on the edge of the examining table, swinging her legs as she waited for the nurse to finish her preparations. The room was quiet and dim, a hushed reverence making her feel a bit like she had in church as a young girl. The nurse didn’t speak as she pulled over the ultrasound machine and readied various tubes at the bedside. Finally, she said in a brusque voice, “Lie back.”

  Cassandra did as she was told, the paper crinkling beneath her as she relaxed onto the examining table. The nurse pushed her shirt up, and the machine flickered to life. Cassandra watched every movement from the nurse as if she were at a bar and suspected someone of tampering with her drink. She swallowed hard. Calm down. Nothing is afoot here. She’s just doing her job.

  Cassandra’s right hand twitched, and she desperately wanted to squeeze someone’s hand. Even more than that, she wanted it to be Nasir’s. She pinched her eyes shut, bringing a hand to cover them. A tear escaped, which seemed like it was probably pregnancy hormones, but also, she’d missed him something fierce in the months since she ingloriously exited his life. No amount of rationality or logic could really explain this longing anymore.

  Someone rapped on the door, and then her doctor peeked her head in, a shock of frizzy brown hair surprising her as it always did. The obstetrician stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind her.

  “Cassandra.” She offered a hand as she approached. “So it’s time for the ultrasound.”

  “Looks like it.” Cassandra managed to laugh a little, but it was forced. The ultrasound meant there were a whole lot of other things coming down the pipeline, and she wasn’t ready to face a single damn one of them.

  “It’s about time,” the doctor said, easing onto a rolling stool. She picked up a small wand, squeezing gel onto it. “You shouldn’t have waited so long.”

  Cassandra sighed, eyes on the screen, like maybe it would show something before the wand even touched her. “I know, I know. I just got busy with work.” The doctor seared her with a look. “But I’m here now. So let’s just see what’s happening in there.”

  Dr. Berna pressed the wand to Cassandra’s lower belly, the cool gel making her suck in a sharp breath. She rubbed it around in a few sweeping circles, squinting at the screen.

  “Do you have a partner, or are you with the father?” Dr. Berna asked it like it was the most casual thing in the world.

  Cassandra grimaced as the cool gel traveled lower. She had no good answer to that question. Hell, even her fibs sounded pathetic.

  “He was busy today, unfortunately,” Cassandra said, deciding at the last minute that both “two-night stand gone wrong” and “fatally mismatched sex god” were inappropriate for the quiet sternness of this appointment.

  Dr. Berna nodded, clucking
her tongue. “There we go. Gotcha.”

  Cassandra watched the screen, trying to make sense of the whirls of white against the black background. Maybe she could tell people she’d been artificially inseminated. Like she’d gone to a clinic, and this was an implant. That way, she had no spouse to account for—she was simply a goal-oriented young woman who got what she wanted, no partner required. She made enough money—maybe it would pass as truth.

  “Here we are.” Dr. Berna smiled, pointing to the screen where a couple strange blobs floated. It looked like a newt or maybe a collection of snails. Cassandra’s mouth hung open, unsure what to say, feeling guilty that she couldn’t identify her baby on the screen.

  “What is it? A boy or a girl?”

  Dr. Berna smiled wider, moving the wand a little bit lower. And then she pointed again at the screen, pointing out a few distinct areas so that finally, Cassandra could see.

  She gasped, understanding the precious outlines, the collection of whirls, the ways in which the final pieces came together to create something very undeniably real.

  14

  Nasir stepped out of his car, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he strode toward an upscale café in the business district for his lunch date.

  As soon as he stepped inside, a familiar voice called for him.

  “Nasir! Yoo-hoo! Over here!”

  Veeda wiggled her fingers at him from over a few heads, her bright smile hooking him. He went toward her, catching her in a hug, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

  “So good to see you again, Veeda.” He squeezed her shoulder, refreshing his memory of her features. They saw each other so infrequently, he always seemed to notice something new about her that he hadn’t caught the previous time. And today, she had a certain glow. Something that vibrated in a quiet field around her.

  “Let’s go to our table.” She tugged at his wrist, guiding him to a small round table set for two, pressed up against a large bay window. Two glasses of water already waited for them.