by Leslie North
“I’m a man of pleasure.” His tone turned sultry, his gaze darkening. “I like to try rare and exotic wines, and there is very much a new wine in town that I would love to taste.”
His words lit her skin on fire. On the one hand, the thought of a playboy was somehow unappealing. How many women had he been with? But on the other hand…he was a playboy for a reason. Smooth moves, smoother looks, and skills that he’d already proven to be at master level. The man should give classes.
It would just be a taste. If this whole thing was a ruse, if it was only for a week, then she should milk it for all it was worth.
Starting with the very luxurious “wine” tastings.
8
By the time Asim brought Elena to their final destination for the day, lust radiated off of her in powerful waves. It was all he could do to keep his head on straight beneath her sultry gaze. Just make it into the loft, and it’s game on.
The lush garden swept up a steep incline, strewn with steep staircases winding through heavy foliage, dappled with thick-trunked trees. Treehouses dappled the canopy, each one an intimate lookout over the city.
But with the way Elena had been eyeing him since lunch, it could be much more than simply a sightseeing excursion. And he’d be willing to take it there, the second she was ready.
They climbed a delicate spiral staircase leading up to the dark wood treehouse. Asim had arranged for a bottle of wine to be available upon arrival. It stood—already open—next to two wine glasses on a small table by the door.
“This is spectacular,” Elena breathed, easing onto the thickly padded floor. Cushions covered every square inch, topped with silky sheets. Throw pillows dotted the walls of the tree house. And before them, an immaculate window overlooked the ocean. The Sea glittered in the distance, slivers of the city sprawl visible at the side. Elena sighed as she arranged the pillow behind her, making herself comfortable.
“You sure know how to woo a girl,” she commented, narrowing her eyes. “First paragliding, then amazing food and wine.” She swallowed, meeting his gaze hesitantly. “Now this. How do you expect me to keep myself off of you?”
Her face flushed at the comment, and he knew it had to be the wine or some secret code that he’d unwittingly cracked somewhere between paragliding and now.
“I don’t expect you to,” he answered coolly, leaning beside her. He reached for her hand, locking eyes. “In fact, if you keep yourself off me, I’ll be disappointed.”
She laughed a little, but the smile fell quickly. She jerked at his hands, urging him closer without explicitly demanding it. He leaned in, capturing her chin between thumb and forefinger, bringing her lips close to his without touching them.
“Yeah?” He smirked, watching the desire crease her face. “You want it?”
She whimpered and nodded, and he dipped down, smashing his lips against hers, coaxing a desperate, hungry kiss from her. She made a small noise and clutched at him, pulling him down on top of her. He clambered to follow her lead, propping himself on either side of her, his hands sinking into the cushions. They kissed until need overcame him; he leaned back to unbutton his shirt, tossing it aside, and then made quick work of his belt buckle. Once he’d unzipped his pants, he pulled away, breathing heavily as he looked down at her.
“I want to see you.” He pulled her slouchy shirt over her head, followed by her tank top, tossing both aside. He tugged her leggings down to her ankles, slipped them off, and trailed kisses back up the creamy lengths of her legs. He tugged at her panty line with his teeth, which made her gasp. A thrill raced through him. He liked making her gasp like that—she was so responsive and sensitive to everything he did to her.
“Let’s take this off,” he whispered, slipping her bra straps down her arms. She reached behind and unclasped the bra, then shrugged it off. Two perky breasts greeted him, rosy nipples taut. His breath disappeared in his throat. He stared for what was probably too long—until she shifted and laughed nervously.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, lowering his mouth to a nipple. He took the perfect pink bud between his lips and suckled, then switched to the other one. She moaned low in response, fingers tangling in his hair. He trailed kisses into the valley of her breasts, over the soft roundness of her belly, to the sweet heat between her legs. He nipped at the dampness staining the crotch of her panties and she tensed, the grip on his hair tightening.
He stretched out over the cushion to get the best angle for enjoying the view between her legs, his hard cock pressing into the soft pillows beneath him. He grinned up at her, and she spread her legs further. He pushed aside the damp piece of fabric, revealing the delicious folds of her pussy, and he swallowed a groan. Everything about this woman was sexy, and already he knew that one time with her wouldn’t be enough.
“Touch me.” Her voice came out a desperate whisper. He dragged his fingertips up and down the cleft of her pussy, every twitch and noise from her shivering through his own body. He pinched at her clit, rolling his fingers back and forth, and then slipped a finger inside her, surprised by how wet she was, how much she wanted this.
He sucked at his teeth and sat up a little. Her gaze raked across him, and she looked so sexy he thought he’d burst—topless and leaning against the wall of the treehouse, legs spread, panties pulled aside to reveal prickles of dark pubic hair. He leaned back and pushed his boxer briefs down, tossing them aside. Grinning, he eased between her legs again, skipping kisses up her thighs.
“I want you on top of me,” he whispered as he kissed his way up her belly. He hooked his hands behind her ass cheeks, tugging her toward him. He sat up, hoisting her onto his lap, and her legs locked behind him, her pussy settling on top of his eager cock.
“Mmm,” she said, rotating her hips in a slow circle. “I like this.”
“Me, too.” He dragged his lips over her shoulder, loving the way her breasts smashed into his chest. He clutched at the soft flesh of her hips, his cockhead finding the slick folds easily. She laughed throatily, rocking in a circle, sending his mind into the stratosphere.
“This is gonna feel so good,” she murmured, her hair tickling the sides of his arms. She dug her fingernails into the tops of his shoulders, pushing herself up, aligning their parts. He reached between them to help guide, inhaling sharply when the sensitive head found the slickest, hottest part of her body.
“There it is,” he said, his voice weak as she eased down on top of him, her eyes closed, a soft expression drifting across her face. He moaned low as she sank down, down, wrapping all of him inside her velvety heat, his cock disappearing entirely inside her. He drew a taut breath, eyes riveted to the V of her legs around him, the friction of their mons as she rocked against him, the jiggle of her breasts as she started a languorous rhythm on top of him.
“Fuck,” was all he could say. She had her way with him, rolling slow and wide, eyes fluttering open and shut as she rode him at her own pace. And all he could do was enjoy the ride, let her do whatever she wanted and take in the show. Her head lolled back and he gobbled up the kinky view of her, her mouth parted in ecstasy, nipples tight, legs bent behind her as she bucked and rocked on top of him.
Within minutes he felt the low crackle of pleasure building inside him—a warning sign. Elena rocked harder against him, tiny gasps punctuating the quiet of the treehouse. His fingertips dug into the flesh of her ass; he should switch positions if he wanted to last much longer, but he couldn’t for the life of him interrupt this heavenly rhythm. He caught a nipple in his mouth as she rode him, then cinched his arms around her waist, bringing her closer, sealing their bodies together. She moved faster, bucking wildly.
“I’m close, Elena.” His voice came out strained, fighting through the dense fog of pleasure that had filled him. His chest heaved as the buildup coiled dense between his legs, quivering on the brink. Elena moaned low, hooking her elbow around his neck, burying his face in her breasts. He growled into the soft flesh of a breast and tensed, thigh rigid as his c
ock spasmed inside her. She whimpered, her rhythm growing jerky, the flex and flinch of her pussy milking every last drop from him as he came.
He groaned, tilting his head back, her gaze searing through him.
“Wow,” she whispered, dragging her lips feather-light over his.
He gulped, nodding, unable to look away from her. The weight of her was a welcome pressure, one that soothed him. With other women, he just wanted to hurry them out the door.
Not Elena. Something in her gaze asked him to stay awhile, and with her he was happy to sit under her spell for as long as he could.
“That was intense,” he said, squeezing her hips. “You should probably just stay right where you are. So we’re ready for the next round.”
She bit her lip, gaze turning sultry. “I don’t think I’d mind that at all.”
9
Asim leapt out of bed extra early the next day with one goal in mind: spend as much time with Elena as possible. Their romantic reverie from the day before left him craving more, which seemed silly to even think about considering they’d spent nearly the entire day together. How could that much of her make him want even more? It was unsettling, but in a good way. Made him curious to see how much he could learn about her before this all came to an end.
The memory of her rattled around behind his eyes, coloring nearly everything he did that morning as he got ready. Every cell craved her company, that sweet heat crashing around him again, the soft scent of her hair. Her lilting laugh wafting through the air. He rushed through brushing his teeth and styling his hair, buttoning up his shirt on his way out of the bedroom.
Crossing the threshold into the main foyer of the house, the scurrying of maids made him straighten. There wasn’t usually so much activity this early in the day. And when his mother was gone, the house staff slouched, like taking a furtive smoke break when the boss wasn’t looking.
All this commotion could mean only one thing.
His mother breezed through the foyer, sunglasses on her face, a flowery dress flowing around her. He froze in his tracks. He hadn’t expected her to be arriving so early today. Definitely not before nine a.m. She must have cut that US trip very short.
Safiya raised her glasses to look at him, narrowing her eyes. “Good morning, Asim. Where is your fiancée?”
So she’d cut straight to the chase. He swallowed hard, looking around like he’d left his response misplaced somewhere in the foyer. “Uh…she…”
“You must take me to her.”
“Mother, I’m sure she’s still sleeping.”
“We should help her greet the day, don’t you think?” A plasticized smiled crossed her face, one that made his inside solidify. He was confident around any woman in the world—except for his mother. She was the one lady who could crumble his façade.
“Well, I…” He shoved his hands into his pockets. What a horrid way to start the day—not just for him, but for Elena. He couldn’t spring this surprise on her. Not like his mother wished it. “She’s not been feeling well.”
“Hm.” His mother’s nostrils flared. “We should make her tea. Chamomile and sage.” She clapped her hands sharply, summoning a maid. She directed her to make the tea and bring it immediately. “When it’s ready, we’ll take it to her. Together.”
Asim forced a smile but it felt more like a grimace. The woman was relentless. The quality made her an asset to the family business. After their father’s death five years ago, Safiya had stepped up to the plate in a huge way, not content ceding operation to her sons. The ways in which she remained involved after his father’s death told him that she had been pulling far more strings in the background than his parents had ever let on. It was no wonder she was obsessed with him finding a business-minded wife. She wanted him to execute the exact same plan she and his father had followed. Which meant she was probably fiercely committed to seeing the Dahoud girl become his wife instead of Elena.
Asim summoned a passing servant, tersely instructing him to warn Elena that he’d be showing up at her room soon. He paced the foyer, waiting for his mother to return from freshening up in her bedroom. When she showed up, smiling sardonically with a steaming cup of tea in her hands, the two walked silently to Elena’s room.
Here goes nothing.
Elena cracked open an eyelid, squinting against the sunlight streaming through her window. She’d forgotten to shut the room-darkening curtains again, which meant the brilliant light of day woke her up far earlier than she liked.
She groaned, shifting in the bed, soreness evident between her legs. You knew this would happen. After no sex for so long, a free-for-all like their wild treehouse evening was sure to leave her battered and bruised. They’d fucked in every square inch of that space; and in some of those inches, multiple times. A grin drifted across her face, and she launched an arm over her eyes to block the sun. Those sexy memories would haunt her. Long after this ruse was over, which maybe would prove to be a bad thing down the road.
What if you never stop fantasizing about him? To say he was skilled in bed—or rather, the treehouse—would be an understatement. The man had fingers and lips that could bring an angel to orgasm. His gaze alone was enough to push her over the edge. Hell, she’d gotten off just by locking eyes with him at least once.
She still wasn’t sure if this whole thing was a mistake or not. But one thing was certain: the sex, at least, was worth it.
A soft knock sounded on her door, and she sat up a little, bunching the silky sheets around her naked body. “Who is it?”
A soft voice replied, in uncertain English. “Madam, Sheikh Asim is on his way to see you.”
She lifted a brow. Perfect. So now she could prepare. “Thank you.” She waited to see if the messenger would add anything; when nothing came, she tossed the covers back, revealing her naked body. Yes, this would be a fine way to greet the day. She flipped onto her stomach, trying out a few sexy postures—resting her head in a hand, twirling hair, mischievously bending a leg. When the next knock came, she was ready.
“Darling, it’s me.”
Asim’s voice soothed her, made the mischief come to a boil inside her veins. Just his voice could affect her like that. This is dangerous. She flipped onto her back, splaying out like a kinky goddess. This would do. “Come in, you sexy man.”
There was a pause, and then the door creaked open a bit. Asim’s voice floated through the opening, still slightly muffled. “Darling, my mother has returned from her trip, and she wishes to tend to your poor health.”
His words crashed together like a head-on collision and she scrambled to grab the sheets and pull them around herself. His mom is back? She lay back for a moment, then pushed the sheets off again. She needed clothes, at least, in the presence of the matriarch. She couldn’t lounge like a lazy concubine in front of that terrifying woman. My poor health? She scrounged for some panties, and then a tank top.
“Did you hear me? Or have you fallen asleep from the illness?”
Elena coughed loudly, looking over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Asim, I drifted off. One moment.” So now she had to play sick. With so little time to prepare, who knew what he expected of her? What had he already told his mother? She leapt into bed, bunching the sheets and covers around her, making a sick nest. She fluffed the pillows, mussed her hair. “Please come in.”
The door creaked open again, and Elena feigned grogginess. She turned to look toward the door, opening her eyes to slits.
“Is that you?” She reached feebly toward the door, then pulled her hand back. That was too much. She wasn’t dying here. This wasn’t an Oscar-worthy performance of passing into the afterlife.
“Oh, my darling.” Asim rushed toward her, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. He stroked her hair back, and then his mother came into view, gaze slicing into her. Elena pushed up a little bit, coughing feebly, avoiding Safiya’s gaze.
“You’ll have to excuse me.” She sniffed, smoothing her hair down. “I haven’t been feeling well.”
/> “So Asim told me. I’m very sorry to hear it.” She sat on the edge of the bed as well, offering a steaming cup to her. “I’ve brought you some tea. Chamomile and sage. Drink it; you will feel better.”
“Oh, thank you.” She mustered a smile, taking the hot cup between her hands.
“This air does not always treat foreigners very well,” Safiya said, but she couldn’t tell if that was a criticism somehow. Are you calling me weak? “Asim, you should go check on your other guest. I’ll help Elena with her tea.”
Fear sliced through her as Asim stood. Don’t leave me alone in here. Asim made a face that said “I’m sorry” before he left the room, leaving them in a tense silence.
“Now that we have some alone time,” Safiya said, her voice hard as the edge of a diamond, “I want to know you better. If you’re supposedly marrying my son, I must know as much as I can.”
Elena nodded, taking a hesitant sip of the bitter tea. Maybe it was laced with poison, and this was the end. His mother had won. “Of course.”
“Where are you from?”
“California.”
“There’s so much scandal and drama in Los Angeles,” Safiya said, eyes narrowing. “You’re not from LA, are you?”
God help me if I were. “No, I’m from the more northern part.”
“Good.” Safiya sniffed, adjusting her position. “What do you do?”
“I just graduated from college,” she said, sipping again at the tea. “I majored in art. I’m a painter.”
“Do you find it difficult to make a living? Or are you hoping to simply live off my son?”
Elena nearly choked on the tea. “No, ma’am. I…I don’t want to simply live off him. I plan to start my own business and an art gallery in a few years. I work on commission for now, and have for a couple years. The money isn’t great, but it’s growing. I have full confidence this will be my career.”