Sheikh's Fake Fiancee (8 page)

His little minx said nothing but reached out and unzipped his pants. Then her hand deftly maneuvered through the hole in his boxers and found his erection. It was already more than hard. She had that effect on him just by her mere presence. Factoring in her eager expression as she sat on the bed and the way she licked those delicate, pink lips…well he was like fucking granite down there.

Her hand started slowly, a bit tentatively. She shouldn’t have. He already knew that he loved whatever she did to him. If his bride were worried that she couldn’t please him, then it was one of the biggest mistakes that Jennifer could make. Her very presence thrilled him. Then she started to quicken her pace and he helped her along a bit, stripping down to his boxers so that she had the best access to him. As much as it pained him, he stepped away long enough to let the boxers fall to his ankles.

It left his erection springing completely free, and he loved the way her eyes grew huge and hungry as she stared at his length.

“My, my,” she cooed. “What a big
present
you have for me.”

“Indeed I do, my wild one.”

She slipped off the bed and onto her knees, clearly no longer in the mood to settle for just stroking his hardness. Jennifer started by giving his member just a few teasing licks. It was as if electricity was prickling through his skin every time she flicked her tongue against his manhood. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, even as he grabbed her long, golden locks.

“Yes, baby, please don’t stop,” he said, and then Bahan slid into an incoherent mix of moans, English, and Arabic, his brain no longer caring to differentiate between the two. Not when his goddess’s tongue was such a revelation and the electricity was flowing freely through his body, heightening every sense he had. “Fucking yes!”

Her mouth was wrapped fully around his shaft now, no longer just licking him. Jennifer was giving everything she had to him, sucking him with the right amount of pressure, letting his manhood slide over her tongue and between those soft, pillowy lips of hers. As she did so, her right hand was massaging his testicles, giving him the best damn bit of fellatio he’d ever had.

Finally, when he felt he could hold it in no more, when the prickles and now the current of electricity spiraling through him had increased until he felt like he’d been struck by lightning, Bahan came, shooting his seed deep inside his lover’s mouth. Jennifer swallowed it all up neatly and wiped at the corners of her mouth, her grin belying that she’d enjoyed herself too, taken pleasure in driving his own.

“So, I take it you liked it?” she said, laughing as she settled herself back onto the bed.

“I think you could say that,” he said, stepping into the side bathroom. It was tiny as hell but he was able to clean off a bit. When he slipped into bed beside his wife, he handed her a small towel. She accepted it readily and dabbed at her mouth. “You were excellent.”

“I’m glad I could serve my sheikh then,” she said, rolling her eyes a bit. “I wasn’t trying to win a contest, Bahan. I just…we only have seventy-two hours before we go back to New York and our crazy lives. I’ll probably now have real-life paparazzi trying to snap pictures of me or some huge news outlet wanting to interview me as an up-and-coming royal.”

“I like the emphasis on the word
coming
, myself,” he said, chuckling and then kissing her temple. “I know, and that’s why I’m glad we can have some time to ourselves. Some pleasure…”

“Exactly! I feel like you deserve it. I mean, I know you’re getting to keep the throne out of the deal, but any woman could have helped you.”

His nostrils flared and Bahan pushed some of his frustration and temper away. It was mostly at his mother, who had most likely sneaked in harsh words for his bride before their big day. “I did not want just any warm body to fill this slot. Even if it’s for a couple of years.” He worked hard to keep his voice from coming out too mournful.

 Bahan knew exactly who he wanted to be the sheikha by his side, now or a decade from now. There was hardly any woman he’d ever met with more strength, compassion, or familial loyalty. But he didn’t know if Jennifer could ever feel the same way. The last thing he wanted was to put any more pressure on her when her life was already so chaotic.

“I know, but the sheikh—”

“Is now you,” he said, steadying her chin with his fingers. “Do you understand that part, my wild one? Whatever Mother blathered on about, however you feel about your coming role, fleeting as it may be, you
are
the sheikha now. You don’t have to answer to anyone at all.”

Her blue eyes lit up and she bit her lip, the playfulness seeming to come back into her words. “So if I don’t answer to anyone, does that mean I don’t have to listen to you either, Bahan?”

“I never said anything quite like that,” he replied, winking at her. “After all, you are my wife and you serve me.”

“Well, it is the twenty-first century now, and I’ve always been an equal-opportunity woman. I think that if I give you a mind-numbing orgasm, then I’m due one too, and soon.”

“I suppose that it could be arranged, sheikha,” he said, stroking her cheek. “We’ll get through Sydney’s operation together. And Mother’s controlling ways and whatever the press or even other countries might want.”

“Wait? So I’d go to a state dinner?”

“I’d try and avoid that or any duties for you outside of what you need or want until Sydney’s better. Right now, we just focus on your family doing what it needs to to thrive right now. I think the world and the press can wait. It grieves me a bit because I would like you to see Yemen, but it’s not time yet.”

She frowned back at him. “That’s kind of good in a way. I was worried that we were going to be sneaking a trip to the Middle East in. I didn’t want to leave the country.”

He laughed, letting it grow to a low rumble in his chest, even as he buried his nose in her hair, reveling in the scent of her, that sweet hint of freesia. “I didn’t say that, my love.”

Her eyes grew wide. “I…where are we going?”

“The City of Lights, or Paris, whichever moniker you prefer. We’ll be home by Tuesday morning and you know the best doctors in the world plus your mother are there. Sydney will be fine for a few days without you, I promise.”

She sighed and snuggled into him, her earlier lust seemingly burned out. “I hope so. I just…I’m not sure how I can really let myself go, knowing my baby sister is in some hospital an ocean away.”

“We’ll talk about that in the morning,” he said, sensing that his bride needed rest. The day’s events—all of them—had been too much for her. “Now,” he said, kissing those soft lips once more. “Get rest, Jennifer, and I’ll show you the city as you’ve never seen it before.”

Chapter Eight

Jennifer felt if she were on autopilot at the hotel. She’d slept well, which surprised her. Since the revelation of Sydney’s diagnosis, it felt like she’d only caught cat naps here and there. Getting through the day on coffee and the occasional energy drink, as well as through bleary eyes, had become her new normal. So to be fully comfortable and content while curled up in Bahan’s strong arms had been a revelation. They’d been intimate in small ways before but had never hit a home run, as Rose might have put it with her Jersey leanings.

He’d also never spent the night with her. She felt like with her sister’s health teetering, she couldn’t afford to be away from her apartment or the hospital for too long. She just hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of sleeping a full night with her lover.

Husband
.

That word struck her across the center of her chest as surely as if she’d been hit by a two-by-four. It felt so serious, so heavy. Yes, they’d annul eventually, and this was a marriage of convenience for both of them—a business deal. Yet, she’d never been married before, and for right now, Bahan wasn’t just her lover or the man she cared about. Under both US and Yemeni law, he was her husband, and that was a huge and consuming thing.

But he seemed to also be the only one who could calm her. She hadn’t slept like this since she’d heard the doctor calmly rattle off Syd’s diagnosis. That had to mean something, right?

She’d been dating for over ten years, through high school and college, and even considered marriage with Dustin. At least until that damn cocktail waitress who one of his business associates finally came clean to her about. It was never a good idea to have any lover or fiancé or anyone else who traveled too much. It led to…temptation, to put it mildly. But she’d always thought it would take time. You’d date for a year, really get to know each other, then you’d commit based on the pros and cons of an alliance. It would be methodical.

You couldn’t possibly be swept up in a swirl of passion after only knowing each other for a few hours at a club or after a date or two.

And yet, Bahan could calm her fears, give her a sense of safety and security that she’d never known before. It had to mean something. Her head was spinning as she finished unpacking.

She also couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in the pit of her chest, this pure panic that it was wrong for her to even have this weekend, either. But Bahan was being a gentleman, giving her space to shake the jet lag out of her eyes as well as to collect herself. Jennifer appreciated that. God, she loved so much about him already. It all just seemed far too fast.

Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter and she bit her lip, fretting that it might be Bahan and that she’d zoned out far too fast. When she glanced at the screen, she realized that it was her sister. Her heart stopped in her throat and she was terrified something bad had happened. Of course, if it had, her mother would have been the one calling, or Rose.

“Hey, Syd, what’s up?”

“Did you go to the Louvre yet? What about strolling by the Seine?” her sister asked, her tone as perky as it usually was. That was so Sydney. Nothing could get the girl down for long. She adjusted better than anyone Jennifer knew. “Tell me, is Paris da bomb?”

“What?”

“Puh-leeze,” her sister said, and she could imagine the younger girl rolling her eyes. It was, after all, Syd’s favorite motion. “Bahan did tell Rose and it wasn’t like Rose could keep the secret from Mom, and then yesterday I got the big honeymoon secret out of Mom. Thus, you’re getting to run away to Paris with royalty and it has to be the most fun thing you’ve ever done. So tell me. What have you seen so far?”

Well, there was the bedroom of his private jet…

Jennifer bit her tongue. Her sister was a college grad and not a kid anymore, but she couldn’t really share details that, well,
detailed
with her sis. That was too much. She still had to protect Syd from some of the big stuff in the world. After all, couldn’t she just like freeze her sis in carbonite and keep her safe and secure for the rest of her life?

“I’ve seen the hotel. We got here and I had to shower and unpack and I’ve had that jet-lag exhaustion. I…Bahan’s down in the lobby doing some remote business.”

“So you went to one of the most romantic cities in the world to nap? That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Jeez, sis, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jennifer said. Then she even felt guilty about that. How could she resort to sarcasm with a sick person, someone so ill they were in the hospital and getting their fucking blood filtered three times a week? If only her kidney had been a match. Then Sydney would already be on her way to recovery. “God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“That was hardly snapping,” her sister said, her voice quiet and thoughtful. “Don’t stop having a good time because you’re worried about me. I’m going to be okay, and one of us needs to see the world. I’m going to every country when I get better, trust me. Right now, just remember that you’re seeing Paris for both of us, so go have the time of your life. I’ll be begging for the pictures when you return.”

“I…”

“Sis, I’d feel terrible if you were martyring your trip because you were worried about me. Have fun. You deserve it more than anyone I know, and I won’t be the block between you and Bahan getting to know each other. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and I want to know you came back with a ton of pics of you two smiling.”

“Thank you,” Jennifer said, her voice thick with emotion. Sometimes it felt like Syd was the older sister, caring for her in some ways, at least making sure that Jen didn’t burn herself out. Maybe it was just that all the times in the hospital gave one a different perspective on everything. Not that Syd was a Zen master, but she certainly was giving her advice today. “I’ll bring you a cheesy gift from the Louvre, some plush version of the Mona Lisa or something.”

“Now you’re talking!” she chirped again, her former jovial nature returning to her tone. “I love you, Jen. Never forget that.”

“I couldn’t. Love you too.”

***

The day had progressed like a dream. They’d had a VIP tour of the Louvre. Actually, with Bahan’s influence and power, he’d literally shut down the museum for the day. They (and Bahan’s security staff, of course) had been the only people strolling through the exhibits. While seeing the Mona Lisa had definitely crossed an item off her bucket list, Jennifer had to admit it was smaller and less impressive in person than she ever would have imagined. She much preferred the exhibits on the side. There was an entire hall of nothing but the Flemish masters, and she’d appreciated the darker, more nuanced art of Vermeer and Rembrandt. Even the wild colors of the impressionists had caught her eye more than the small wooden painting with the world’s most famous and enigmatic woman on it.

When they’d moved on to the Eiffel Tower, the same secluded, VIP experience had been hers. Jennifer had to admit that being a sheikha came with its advantages. Not having to wait in line or deal with crowds was a massive bonus. But those were the more typical tourist experiences, the ones that everyone had shared. Now they were standing on the
Pont des Arts
, overlooking the flowing river Seine as it passed beneath them.

She frowned and pointed to the hundreds of simple, hardware-store padlocks that greeted her on the sides of the bridge. “What is this?”