"I love you, habibi," she said softly. He smiled wider.
"You speak Arabic?"
"Only a little bit, what I learned on the plane."
"You'll learn more over time, but that was good!"
Rachel blushed at the compliment. She was sure that she hadn't been particularly impressive, but to hear the praise coming from her husband meant more than she could explain.
"How much longer until we can... go home?" Rachel hoped the question didn't sound indiscreet, but she had to admit that it was, and she didn't care if it was. She wanted to spend the night with her husband, to be shown all that she'd been missing.
"You're excited for the night to come?" His voice was low enough that nobody could hear, and held an edge of teasing and something else--a growl of arousal.
"You don't think less of me for it, I hope?"
He sucked in a deep breath. "Not in the least, my darling."
"I've... never... you know."
He kissed her forehead softly, as if to say that he understood her concerns, and then sat back in his chair. Rachel wasn't sure, but she was fairly certain that she could see something stirring in his pants.
When it was over, she was as exhausted as she had been any day that week. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pass out and sleep for the rest of the week. Anticipation kept her awake, kept her mind racing, fueled her through the evening.
The hotel he stayed in was the finest in the city, she thought. She'd seen the rates trying to find accommodations for her stay, and her eyes had nearly popped out of her head in surprise. Sticker shock was one thing, but this was something else. What she hadn't realized when they'd walked in was where he was staying exactly. His thumb jabbed a large "P" at the top of the grid of buttons.
Rachel realized, all of a sudden, that she hadn't even for a moment understood how wealthy her new husband was. He was staying in the most expensive room she'd ever heard of, and almost certainly had been the length of his stay.
"Are you nervous?" His voice was tender, and she could feel his hand resting on the small of her back. It sent electric jolts through her body every time he made the slightest move, pulling all of her concentration.
She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. She tried to do the next best thing and nodded, but it came out nearly imperceptible.
"You don't need to be, darling. I won't hurt you. I promise you that."
"I know," she whispered. "I trust you. I'm worried that I won't be able to... please you."
"Just being with my wife would please me, habibati. But I understand your nerves."
Rachel looked up at him, and he looked back. He looked happy, happier than she could have hoped for. They'd been married nearly without seeing each other, but now both of them wanted nothing more than to make their marriage work.
"Will you kiss me again?"
He leaned down, the elevator still counting up, and pressed his soft lips on hers. Rachel's heart pounded in her chest, drowning out the noise of the elevator doors chiming open. She opened her eyes and let her husband guide her out of the elevator and into his suite.
Rachel looked around. She'd never seen such a lavish hotel. She had been in more than one house smaller than this place, she thought. What was life like for someone who was used to this kind of treatment? And what kind of perks would his new bride get, she wondered.
"Do you like it?"
"Like it? Are you kidding?" Rachel turned and leveled a half-serious gaze on her new husband. "I've never been in a hotel so nice, and I'm in the finest room in the entire establishment. I don't think 'like' is what I would call it."
Her husband draped his jacket over the back of a chair and crossed the room in a few long strides, pulling her in tight. "Then what would you call it?"
"I don't want to talk about the room any more," Rachel whispered. "I want to do something else."
Nazir turned to her, the warmth between them searing against Rachel's body.
"I told you," he said softly, running a finger across her lips, "that I wanted children, before we began this entire thing, yes?"
Rachel shivered. "I think you might have mentioned it."
"That hasn't changed. That's not a problem, is it?"
She closed her eyes and felt the electricity shooting through her body as his fingertips moved across her skin, pulling her scarf back. "No."
"Good." He dipped his head and pressed a kiss against her neck. A shock of pleasure shot through her body, sending her head back and forcing her to gasp. Suddenly she couldn't take off all the clothing that she'd been bundled into fast enough. She moved her hands to the buttons on her jacket, but Nazir's hand came up and stopped her.
"No, habibati, we'll take this at my pace." Rachel shuddered again, but nodded silently.
His hands moved across her body slowly, even sending ripples of pleasure across her skin through the thick layers of fabric between them. His lips kissed along the line of her chin, then moved to her own. She could smell his cologne, sweet and powerful and overwhelming.
Rachel let him explore, and then let him start to work the buttons on her coat, undoing them with a painstaking care that drove his wife mad. Couldn't he just furiously rip it off her? The delay, though, only sharpened the edge of arousal in her mind, more and more, until she was balanced on a razor's edge. And then he pushed the jacket back, off her shoulders, and she let it drop to the floor.
He didn't start working on her dress, not right away, but pulled her in close for another kiss, his powerful arms wrapping around her. Rachel felt strangely safe here, with her new husband. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting from him, but now that she had it she wanted more of it, wanted a lifetime's worth of these embraces in a few short hours if she could get them. She smiled at the thought.
He turned her around and she could feel him working the zip on the back of her dress, pulling it slowly down her back. She thought that she could count the seconds between the teeth that he pulled apart, only serving to further sharpen the arousal that now had carved a pit in her stomach.
"Please," she said softly, and she heard a soft laugh from behind. If it were possible, he slowed down, waiting to turn her around to face him when he reached the bottom. When she heard the sound of clothing hitting the floor, she turned on her own to find Nazir bare-chested, his shirt and undershirt discarded behind him.
Rachel shimmied out of her dress and stepped out of it. She'd never let a man see her in her underwear before, and it was the most natural thing in the world to cover herself. Nazir's hands came up to her wrists and pulled gently.
"Let me see," he whispered between soft kisses.
"I can't."
"Are you embarrassed?"
"Yes." Rachel was embarrassed by all of it, but by her insecurity the most. "I'm not that pretty, I know, and I'm sure that you're used to, you know, the most beautiful women in the world. I don't want to--"
He silenced her with a kiss and pulled her hands away more insistently.
"You couldn't possibly disappoint me, Rachel. You are my wife, and there is nothing you could do that would disappoint me, certainly not tonight."
Rachel's lip quivered. "Are you sure?"
Nazir pressed his thumb into her lips and she kissed it unconsciously. "Of course I am sure, darling."
Rachel let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and let him pull her hands away. She had small breasts, she knew, not like her sister's. They weren't anything to be proud of, that was certain.
"May I see?" Nazir's voice, so certain and dominant a moment ago, now sounded unsure, as if he were handling a teacup of fine china.
Rachel nodded and turned away. It would be easier, if he... She reached around behind her back and opened the clasp in an easy motion, letting the garment slip down her shoulders until it fell away. Her hands came up automatically again to cover herself. They filled her hands nicely, but she was sure that they weren't big enough for a man, especially not an important man like
her husband. She spoke without thinking.
"Maybe this is a mistake."
His strong hands came down on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. "You could not possibly disappoint me, darling, but if you are afraid..."
"No." The words came out too harsh, too strong, from the anxiety that she'd already built up in herself. "I want to do this, I'm just... nervous, is all."
"I understand completely," came her husband's response.
She turned sharply and pressed herself against him, her arms around his chest. They just reached comfortably, as if they'd been made for each other. Rachel smiled at the thought. Nazir pressed a kiss onto the top of her head.
"If I didn't know better," he teased, "I would think you'd rather make children in a burqa."
Rachel looked up, hoping that she looked interested for as long as she could before she laughed, pulling away from her husband's arms to try to steady herself. The joke broke the anxiety that had been holding her back, and as she stood, she forced her hands to fall away.
Nazir's sharp intake of breath was unusual for him. The idea that he might be nervous... Rachel hadn't even considered it. Hadn't he done this many times before? With all his wealth and power, he could have any woman he wanted. She heard him whisper something under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing," he started. "I just... you're very beautiful."
Rachel's mind took a moment to catch up with her ears, and then her face went beet red.
"You don't have to lie, you know."
"I wouldn't. Don't be silly." He pulled her in for a kiss again, and then dipped his head lower, to capture the sensitive bud that tipped her breasts. A jolt went through her, like a light behind her eyes.
Nazir looked into his wife's eyes for a long moment, and then reached down and scooped her into his arms and lifted her off the ground.
"Are you ready?"
Rachel stretched her neck forward and captured a kiss. "Of course."
Nazir carried her into the bedroom, laying her down gently. The stress and anxiety of the past week seemed to all ball up inside her belly, and mixed with the arousal that had built up through the kissing and the anticipation, and suddenly everything felt right and wrong at the same instant.
"Are you going to put a baby in me?" Rachel hoped that she sounded sexy, and the way that Nazir stiffened against her told her that she had succeeded, even if in her own ears she sounded uncertain and nervous.
She could hear him moving between her knees, and then gently spread her legs, and felt his hardness rubbing against her moist folds. She had heard stories, so many stories, about it hurting, but when he pushed inside her... The feeling was foreign and strange, but it shot a jolt of pleasure through her. This didn't hurt at all, she thought before it all went dark.
He moved inside her, his movements hard but measured, swift but with a slow, measured rhythm. She could feel it becoming more and more erratic as he moved, his hands coming up to pinch her nipples and play across her skin. Then he breathed out "I love you," and she felt him stiffen inside her and the twitching of his cock inside her signaled the warmth that filled her inside.
Rachel laid her head back and felt his seed spreading through her. She was at her most fertile now, she knew. If she wasn't pregnant already, she thought, then they were certainly going to make sure that didn't last. It didn't matter how tired they were, how long the week had been; now, in the moment, nothing else mattered.
Nazir leaned down and placed a surprisingly gentle kiss on his new bride's lips. "I love you, habibi."
Pregnant In Monaco
Impregnated By Her Boss
Selena Savage
When she'd gotten a job offer in Monaco, Julia Sommers wasn't ecstatic—she didn't believe it. She called twice, visited twice, and then still had to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a hoax or a dream. She had to get an apartment in France to spare expenses, but for an American in Europe…It was like being invited to work on Mount Olympus.
The only problem, she thought bitterly, was the Grand Prix. When it was on TV, it was all well and good. When traffic jams became the norm, and the sidewalks thronged with people there to run, there to watch, the event, it was a bitch to get around.
She sighed and checked her watch. She knew this was going to happen. That's why she had set aside an extra hour to get to the restaurant where she worked. But even still, the clock ticked ahead. She couldn't help feeling nervous. She'd only been there three months, she couldn't afford to be late.
"Come on," she muttered, looking for a chance to cross safely. Cars inched menacingly forward, daring her to go. Then, like it always seemed to go, the crowd started to move without her. An arm wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her forward across the line, into the street.
Julia looked up to see who had grabbed her. He wore a white shirt, rolled up to the elbow, and sunglasses. His hair was pushed back. He had an attractive face with a wide jaw. He looked like the sort of person who she dealt with every day. Wealthy, very wealthy, the sort of person who belongs in Monte Carlo. But she'd never seen him before.
And then she was on the other side of the street, and his hand slipped off her shoulder. Expecting him to continue, Julia put her head down and continued on her way. A voice stopped her.
"You shouldn't wait like that, you know," he said in a voice bitter and deep like dark chocolate. He had a hint of an accent, possibly Italian. "You have to be more" He made a fist and made a show of pushing it forward "assertive."
"Thank you," Julia said softly, ducking her head.
Who was this guy? And what did he want with her? She was just an American student who'd ended up with a work visa after she graduated. Whoever he was, he had money written all over him. Guys like that ignored girls like her.
"Wait. Where are you headed?"
"I have to get to work," Julia called over her shoulder.
To her surprise, Julia saw him start to follow her, catching up in only a few long, powerful steps.
"Yes, but where? Perhaps I can help you make your way."
"Gambino's," she said shortly. "On Rue Suffron Raymond."
"Ah! I know the place. But you're going the wrong way."
"I take this route every day, Mr…"
He smiled and ignored the implied question. "You can get there, certainly. But if you go through there…" He pointed to an alley they'd passed a few yards back. "Then it cuts your trip by four minutes."
Julia's eyebrow shot up. A back alley, with a young woman and some stranger? It was Monaco—there wasn't much crime here. But that didn't mean she should be a fool, did it?
"I'll just stick to my normal route, I think."
"You are worried about going in a secluded area with a man, yes?" Julia didn't respond. "Smart girl. But if you'll not go, then this is where we part ways."
"Have a good day," Julia offered, dropping her head again and slipping her headphones back onto her ears. The man turned and walked back to the alley and without waiting to see if she followed, he turned down it.
What the hell was up with that, she wondered. But she still had a ways to go. She hurried, and half an hour later, she was standing in front of Gambino's. She looked down the street.
A few hundred yards down, she could see an alley. It might have been where it would have come through, she thought. That wasn't four minutes off the trip. That cut it in half, she thought.
But the risk wasn't worth it. Not with some guy she'd never met, no matter how clean-cut he looked. She'd seen too many movies about girls being kidnapped and sold as sex slaves on trips to Europe.
She went in the front and ducked into the lockerroom to change. As she came out in her uniform, she noticed a familiar face standing behind the counter, beside her boss.
"Ah! Julia! So good to see you." Mona gestured for her to come over. "This is the owner, Mr. Claudio Gambino. He's in the city for a few days. I don't believe you've met yet. Mr. Gambino, Julia Sommers. Our new American."
"We have
, actually," Mr. Gambino said, extending his arm for a handshake. "Just now, Miss Sommers was worried I might be some sort of brigand after I told her about the shortcut. Quite wisely so," he added as an afterthought.
"No, Julia, not a brigand. But perhaps a scoundrel," Mona teased, looking up at Claudio. "So maybe it was smart of you not to go with him. Stay away from this one, he's dangerous. For a woman's heart."
"I'll keep that in mind," Julia answered, taking the offered hand. His grip was strong, without being painfully tight. The confident handshake of a man who didn't need to prove himself.
Work went quickly, for the most part. Customers in and out, nonstop. With the Grand Prix weekend only a few days away, and their location less than a kilometer from it, more than a few people stopped by with the intention of getting a look at the track before the television crews took over.
The only thing that stopped her wonderous, distracting rush of work was the feeling of eyes watching her. She didn't need to look around to know whose they were, but she could feel them on her. The whole time, always. Claudio Gambino.
He was a poor bartender, she thought, but he had a way with the guests. He spoke their language, so to speak, even if his French wasn't any better than hers or Mona's, in a way that neither of them did. So even though he poured slowly, overfilled glasses, and was easily distracted…somehow, he seemed to fit. The way that he interacted with the patrons, it was a surprise that he didn't stay around the shop. Whatever was back in Italy must have been important.
He waited until they closed up shop to speak to Julia again. "Are you staying in the city?"
She laughed, giving him a smile that she hoped was appealing. "No! The rent here…must be absurd."
"Well," he aggreed, "it's not cheap. But it must be a hassle having to take the train out every day, mustn't it?"
"It's not like I have a choice, though."
"Well, there is a choice, actually." He pointed up. "I keep an apartment in town, for when I'm here. Sadly, due to some business trouble back in Milan I'm not around much anymore. You could stay there. I'll take the couch until I'm finished with business."
A Billionaire's Heart (Erotic Romance Bundle) Page 8