Valentine Vegas Gigolo Sheikh (8 page)

Good. She smiled to herself. Let
him
endure the torture for a while. Served him right.

It was serving her pretty well, too. Her panties were soaked with moisture.

Before she could finish him off, she felt demanding hands beneath her arms, hauling her toward the end of the bed. Toward Zaq—no, Zaqwan.

He settled her on his hips. Ah, now this, she knew. She let a knowing smile lift her lips and dropped her eyelids to gaze down at him with sex in her eyes.

"Is this what you like?" she asked.

"This," he answered, "is one of many things I like."

Good, she mentally purred. It was safely within her comfort zone.

The thought made her stiffen. Safe? Comfort zone? Where had that come from?

"These," he said, fingering the tiny straps of her panties, "come off now."

She bristled at the order before she remembered that she was playing his little sexual servant tonight. What was it he had said to her last night?

Oh yes. "As you wish."

"Yes. As
I
wish." With those words, he twisted the straps, wrenching them away from the fabric. Destroying a gorgeous and expensive pair of underwear.

Then again... He removed his towel, revealing an excellent six pack that she couldn't keep her hands off, and didn't try.

As she ran her hands over his naked abs, he growled. She echoed it as he slid his fingers along the sensitive sides of her breasts, then cupped and gently squeezed them. She reached beneath herself, to clutch his penis and place it where it would do them both the most good.

"But
Sokar
, what I wish is this..."

He sat up and tipped her backward. Too surprised to fight it, she ended up on her back.

Then, hot breath on her moist sex. Before she could protest, he maneuvered her legs over his shoulders and kissed her.

She saw stars behind her closed eyes. How long had it been since she'd had this? Years. Colin's arm had prevented him, of course. Same way it stopped him from doing anything he didn't want to.

She sank into the feeling, the pleasure of it. She was too far gone now to worry how her body looked to him, or how defenseless she was in this position.

Instead, she just felt him down there, his tongue lapping at her sensitive parts.

His fingers joined, slipping inside her wet body. In a way, it was really too bad he wasn't a male escort. He would have brought so much pleasure to so many women. All that skill was focused on her. The waves of tension built, tightening, making her grit her teeth.

"Breathe,
Sokar
," he told her, so in control, so composed. "If you do not breathe, it affects your pleasure."

She dragged in air, as he flicked her clit back and forth with his tongue, playing her like a musical instrument—one that he'd mastered. The relentless assault drove her over the edge. Her pleasure took her into the heights.

She melted, left boneless and rung out by the climax. God, it was so good. Were orgasms that good for other people? No way, or no one would ever get out of bed.

Zaqwan kissed his way up her body. Slowly. By the time he appeared above her, she'd recovered herself, enough to turn the tables on mister-in-control.

She gave him her best shy, embarrassed smile—designed to communicate vulnerability, when that was the last thing she felt.

It worked. The glow of pride in his eyes told her he'd dropped his guard. "Well,
Sok
—"

She didn't let him finish the sentence. It took a sneak attack, and all her strength, but she overbalanced him easily. She had him on his back, straddling his hips, before he knew what hit him.

The stunned surprise on his face gave her a tingle of satisfaction in her belly—and the hardness of him between her legs gave her another sensation altogether. It seemed to work for him, too. He hissed in a labored breath.

"Breathe,
Sokar
," she told him, holding back a smile as she ground her pelvis against him.

He let out a string of guttural Arabic. She had no clue if he was cursing her or encouraging her. She really didn't care, so long as the control in the situation belonged to her.

He stretched out an arm toward the night table. The light flickered off a square of gold packaging. Oh, so he thought
he
would decide when she took him inside her? Nuh-uh.

She reached for his wrist, taking it and pinning him down. And she was rewarded with those quotation marks between his eyebrows

The expression didn't last long. She saw the instant he realized that her capture of his wrist left the rest of her open. Her naked breasts grazed his smooth pecs. Her lips weren't even an inch from his.

The mood of the scene shifted. Her heartbeat slowed to a crawling pace at the same time it kicked up a notch. She couldn't swallow around the rock in her throat. Her breath was almost painful. Their gazes locked and she couldn't break away. It was uncomfortably intimate, doing this with this stranger who saw inside her and know her better than friends she'd had for years.

With aching slowness, he reached his free hand around her nape. The heaviness of it drew her down, closing the empty space between their lips.

They'd kissed before. But at the time, he was Zaq the gigolo. Not Zaqwan the man. She had only kissed him as a woman who hired him to solve a problem. A woman with a goal.

This kiss was different. There was something
honest
about it. Something that stripped away the lies and the roles they'd played and left something behind. A connection. She knew it, too, he was certain.

When she came up for air, she was pressed against his body like she was trying to absorb him. His left arm was wrapped around her, as if he wanted the same. Instead of her hand holding down his wrist, her fingers entwined in his, locked together.

He gazed up at her with clarity in his dark eyes, while she was filled with confusion that had her heart pounding an uneven rhythm. What had happened there?

She shook the strange feelings from her. This was no time to analyze emotions. She pulled her hand from his and shoved on his chest to get upright again.

"If you wish,
Sokar
," he said.

His words irritated her, and she couldn't put her finger on why, or come up with any response. Instead, she reached for the condom and took out her feelings on the plastic.

In seconds, she had the condom rolled down his shaft. She kneeled up, positioning herself above him, and then, down. One quick thrust and he was inside her.

He grunted appreciation. A thrill of pleasure straightened her spine.

Then she cursed herself.
Dumbass. Don't get all happy that you pleased him. Don't give him that power over you. Just take what you want.

Though she wasn't quite ready, she began to move. Her harsh motion, designed to get him off as quickly as possible, hurt her for the first few thrusts.
You deserve it for letting him get under your skin, stupid.

Too soon, the feeling eased, and all she knew was that he was inside her and it sent shocks of pleasure through her system. She reached down, intent on touching herself to intensify the sensation, the way he'd taught her last night. Before she could, strong fingers pulled her hand away.

He couldn't be serious. She tried again.

"No," he growled. "Allow me."

He placed his thumb on her sex and began to caress. Heat radiated out from her clit as he massaged deep. With every circle of his thumb, she rocked on his cock faster, riding him closer and closer to the edge.

She reached it first, crying his name. Then, as her body flexed its release around him, he came, growling one word.

Sokar
.

***

Okay, she realized, laying in the crook of his arm, resting her head on his chest, this was insane. She couldn't stop the bubbles of laughter that rose in her.

The insulted expression on Zaqwan's face sent her into a fit of the giggles. It was so regal. After what they'd just been doing, his sexy imperial scowl was the funniest thing she'd ever seen.

"I do not see what is so amusing," he said, all indignation. "I know it is not my performance, nor your body's response to mine."

Everything about his little offended speech struck her funny. She tried to swallow her laughter, to get it under control, but in swallowing it, she ended up with the hiccups.

"Ah," he said, "Now
that
is funny."

She swatted him to make him stop chuckling. Then she hiccupped again, which made her laugh until she cried.

Later, when she got herself under control, she told him the joke. She only got through the hilarious words by stopping to swallow her chuckles. "You pretended to be a gigolo to get into my pants. But you're really a prince."

"I am aware of this." The confused quotation marks appeared between his eyebrows, making her smile.

"Well, it could be the plot of a bad—" Here she swallowed something other than laughter.
Romance novel
, she had been about to let slip. But romance novels had happy ever afters and as happy as this
after
was, it wasn't
ever
. In a few hours, they'd never see each other again. Suddenly, she didn't feel like laughing.

"Comedy," she said. "A comedy."

He gave that little restrained chuckle again. The sheikh was amused. "When you put it that way, I see what you mean."

"Thank you," she said, and meant it. Not only had he taken the time to teach her about her body, he had been her champion on a weekend when her own strength might have failed her. Of course she could never really get past the lying part, but why have an argument about that now? It wasn't going to matter in her future anyway.

So she punched him in the stomach. Not hard, but enough to surprise him.

It worked, but not in the punishing way she intended.

In less than a second, she found herself rolled onto her back with him on top of her. His hands stretched her wrists high above her head. She was completely exposed and vulnerable to him. He could do anything to her in this position, take anything he wanted. Her heart pounded, but it wasn't fear. It was excitement. His heartbeat echoed against her rib cage, betraying that he felt the same. His cock hardened against her leg.

What was this? Her mood soured. This wasn't right. This wasn't what she wanted, to be held down and dominated. This wasn't who she was.

"Why did you do that?" he demanded.

"You're crushing me," she lied. "Get off."

"Tell me why."

"Because you're a controlling jerk who lied to me. Now get off," she demanded.

"Ah," he said, in his irritating way. The exasperated look cleared from his face. "And you so dislike being out of control."

Her head began to pound. All the afterglow of her two—two!—orgasms drained from her. "You." She swallowed. "Sound like Colin." The memory of his criticisms came rushing back, adding her ex's voice to Zaqwan's.

"I learned many interesting things from your Colin," he said. "Shall I tell you what they are?"

"He's not my Colin." How she managed to push out the words through her gritted teeth, she didn't know.

"Ah, but for a time, he was very much yours. Yours to control."

"Why are you saying this to me?" She gasped. But it was clear. He was done with her. He'd gotten his rocks off tonight and he didn't care anymore. He was unloading on her in some kind of Scorched Earth policy.

"You punish yourself for being out of control of your life by staying in a job that does not satisfy you. You blame yourself for choosing the wrong men instead of blaming them for being the wrong men. You remain in relationships that do not work because you wish to fix them, though your body screams at you that you have not yet met the right man for you. Even me, you chose me to help you, but decided to control me by not allowing me to finish the job you had hired me to do." Every word punched her in the gut. "You need a man who will not bend to your control, whose strength equals your own."

"What are you talking about? I didn't ask for you to psychoanalyze me." Panic rose in her, starting from her belly, where Zaqwan's hard abs touched her. "Really, I mean it. I need you to let me go."

Her arousal was quickly disappearing. No, not disappearing, but mixing with her strange twitchy feeling. Her breath came faster, shallower.

"You see—" He paused and lowered his head to her neck, to lick and suck for a few moments. "Situations that you do not dominate make you feel helpless. I suspect it has to do with your upbringing. With your father being constantly ill, your life must been full of uncertainty. Perhaps you tried to take control of what you could as a defense mechanism. When you became an adult, you chose men who needed you, who depended on you. That way, you could assert yourself over them. You were always the dominant one in the relationship."

Heat flushed her face. How dare this man, who had only known her for twenty-four hours, claim to know all about her? The world closed in on her.

"Take your Colin, for example. Were you attracted to him before he broke his arm? I think not. And Armen, before his car accident?"

The air had gone too thick to draw into her lungs. He was right. But everything was wrong. Zaqwan wasn't saying or doing anything to threaten her, but something bad was going to happen. Her arms and legs began to twitch. Blood pounded in her ears, drowning out her thoughts, leaving only this irrational sensation of growing panic.

"As for me—" How could he keep such a reasonable tone when reality was falling apart around them? "You are attracted to me and repelled by me in equal measure. You have never before encountered a man who is your match, or perhaps you have simply never let such a man get close to you. The only reason you allowed me near you is because you thought I would do your will because of the money you paid. When you discovered otherwise, you would have avoided me if not for the prospect of getting it back. Yet all this time, your body was telling you what your mind would not acknowledge. You need a man who will not be controlled by you. And you are a strong woman who deserves such a man."