Guilty Pleasure

Staring out over the ballroom, Marty hoped the operation worked out quickly. She had a feeling that if it didn't, she and Khalid could be facing more danger than she had imagined. "Then he isn't here in the States yet?" she asked as she turned to Khalid.

He pulled her to his side, his fingers clasping her hips possessively. "Not yet."

Marty nodded slowly. It wouldn't be long, she told herself. Ayid Mustafa would take whatever chance he had to destroy Khalid.

As she stood next to Khalid, she noticed something. The way he held her, close to his side. The way his body turned into hers. She had never seen him hold another woman in quite that fashion. Had never heard of him keeping one at his side.

He loved her.

She stared at him, admitting silently that she had loved him most of her life. She had loved him with a certainty, a confidence that the day would come when she would have at least a chance to steal his heart.

Had she managed that?

There were times she thought it possible. There were times she feared she still might have a ways to go.

Feeling his hand settle possessively at the small of her back once again, she turned to stare up at him with all the fears, all the needs that were becoming harder and harder to hold inside her.

"Dance with me." Taking her hand he stepped back, watching her, waiting on her to accept. "Shayne's meeting with a contact tonight, but we'll be leaving soon, ourselves."

He was dominant, but he wasn't overbearing. He was arrogant, but his arrogance was always tinged with logic, with reason.

"Always." Her hand tightened on his as she let him draw her out onto the dance floor.

As he took her in his arms, Marty felt the familiar heat he ignited inside her rising once again. He was the spark inside her soul.

Laying her head against his shoulder, Marty closed her eyes and let herself simply enjoy his touch, the slow glide of his body, the warmth of his arms.

She didn't understand the need rising inside her to simply exist here, to hold on to this moment as long as possible, to hold the memories inside her.

"It will be over soon." His whisper against her ear was soft, though the tone of his voice reflected a steely strength that made her lift her head, her eyes meeting his.

It wasn't fear she glimpsed in his eyes; it was a certainty that if his brothers weren't dealt with, then he would lose more than he could bear to lose.

He would lose her.

"One way or the other, it will be over soon," she agreed.

"I won't let them win, Marty."

"I know you won't." Confidence gleamed in her eyes, and that terrified him.

He'd let Lessa down. How could he bear failing Marty in the same way?

Khalid couldn't stand the thought of losing her. As he stared down at her he knew that nothing in his life, no other woman, had ever been to him what Marty was becoming.

Strength glittered in her gray eyes, mixed with compassion and a sense of fun. She never took herself too seriously, and she never let him do the same. Yet, at the same time, she understood the danger revolving around her. There was no denial of it. She didn't fight it. Hell no, she was jumping right in to attempt to solve it.

Staring up at him, Marty saw the emotions shifting through his eyes. Dark, desperate emotions that she wanted nothing more than to ease.

As the song came to an end, Khalid led her back to where her fathers stood.

"We identified our caller." Joe edged close to them, keeping his voice low. "He's part of the Saudi ambassador's entourage." He nodded to the tall, heavily robed middle-aged Arab speaking to the ambassador. "He received a call two minutes ago. We think he's preparing to meet with the assassin."

"Why?" Marty asked, her voice low. "What information could he have?"

Zach shook his head. "That's what I intend to find out."

"We'll leave, as well," Khalid stated. "Let us know the moment you have anything."

"The very minute," Zach agreed, before bending his head to kiss Marty's forehead gently. "Be careful baby," he whispered. "Your mother would kill me, and rightfully so, if anything happened to you."

Saying their good-byes to their host several minutes later, Marty wondered what could have warranted a meeting so quickly.

She didn't have the answers she needed, and the questions tormented her. There was a new one to add to the list, as well.

What had happened to Lessa, and what had she meant to Khalid? Had he loved her? Had he already lost the woman he felt his heart belonged to, even though she was his brother's wife? Even though he had been the third rather than the first?

Glancing at Khalid beside her, she took in the quiet expression, the flat, almost unemotional glitter in his eyes. That look had been there since the moment they stepped from the dance floor. "My parents have invited us to lunch next week," she told him quietly, as the limo drew closer to the estate. "I told them I'd have to be certain your schedule is free."

She watched his nostrils flare as he breathed in deeply.

"I'm free," he finally said.

She watched him curiously, wondering at the reserved air she was seeing.

"They'll be glad to hear that." She began to shift away from him, the distance she felt around him making her vaguely uncomfortable.

"Where the hell are you going?" Before she had moved more than an inch he was pulling her back to him, then going a step further and lifting her into his lap.

"What are you doing?" Surprise shot through her as she felt his arms suddenly surrounding her, his warm chest against her.

"Do you think I will let go so easily?" There was something definitely dark and dangerous in his expression now.

"I wasn't aware you owned me." She wasn't pretending to be unaware of the fact that he was trying to become totally dominant.

So why the hell was her heart racing as though she were excited, as though a potential confrontation with him were turning her on? And why was she growing so wet?

Khalid stared down at her, feeling things he had never imagined feeling as they rolled through him. Most surprising was the edge of possessiveness. Never had he known an obsession such as the one he knew for this woman.

He had shared her easily. The pleasure, the pure eroticism of each adventure had been more than he had ever known with another woman, at any other time. Yet, seeing her walk from that hall with Shayne, his hand on her back as he stood protectively behind her, Khalid had felt a shaft of possessive lust unlike anything he could have expected.

Shayne didn't love her. He wanted nothing to do with love or possessiveness. Shayne wanted to stay on the outside looking in, a part of the relationship but never truly committed to it.

"I never stated that I owned you," he growled, feeling his cock harden to painful tightness as her little ass wiggled against it. "I merely stated that I would not let you go easily."

"And I'm telling you that if I decide to go, then you'll have no say in it." Her voice was sweet, but beneath it he could hear a threat of determination and lust boiling inside her.

"Don't believe I'll have no say in it," he told her, hearing the harshness entering his voice. "I did not begin this relationship with you, Marty, to lose you so easily."

Her eyes widened. There was definitely lust there. Arousal, he amended. The heat in her gaze held emotion, shades of anger, hunger, and a glimmer of feeling that he had never seen in another woman's eyes.

Or did he only wish he was seeing that emotion there? When it came to Marty he was never certain of what he felt, or what she was feeling.

"No, you began this relationship because you were under suspicion for treason by my boss," she shot back.

She was a quick little thing, he thought. But that wasn't exactly accurate.

"No, I began this relationship with you because staying away from you was no longer an option," he stated, gripping her hip to hold her in place as she made a move as though to leave his lap.

He liked her exactly where she was, in his arms.

"You act as though I had nothing to do with the decision." The anger flared in her gray eyes then, and sent a surge of pure lust ripping through his balls. "Excuse me, Mr. Mustafa, but I made the first move, not you. I seduced you, remember?"

"That you did." Threading his fingers through her hair, he pulled her head back and stared down at her, dying to consume her. "And I'll be damned if I hadn't grown tired of pushing you to do so."

Before she could argue with the statement he took her lips and stole the kiss he needed. His tongue pushed passed her parted lips, stroked against hers, and tasted pure, sweet female a second before he felt her sharp little teeth snap against his tongue.

Jerking back, he stared down at her, eyes narrowed, before he threaded his fingers into the back of her hair, letting the thick, silken strands tumble over his hand. Clenching, he held her still, lowered his head, and nipped her lush, lower lip before flicking his tongue over it gently.

He kissed the pout on her lips and held her head still, and as he stared into her dark, hungry eyes, kissed her again. His tongue flicked over her lips, teased, and stroked until her lips parted again, and her tongue reached out for him.

Hunger was a driving ache in his balls. His cock was engorged, throbbing in such need that he wondered how he bore it. Never had he ached like this, hungered like this.

Turning her, he lay her back on the seat, coming over her with a muted groan that tore from his throat. Kissing her was like bathing in fire, in sweet, white-hot pleasure. His lips took hers again and again, feeling the deepening need as it bloomed inside her, the rush of blood thundering through his body, the heat pouring from her sweet flesh.

Lowering one hand, he raked the heavy taffeta and silk of her dress up her leg, over her thigh. Satiny flesh met the stroke of his hand as her knee bent, her thighs parting beneath his touch as he held her firmly, his lips devouring her.

He could feel the sweet wet heat of her pussy just inches from his fingers. Her juices dampened her panties. The thought of delving into it nearly had him shaking like a young boy.

The feel of her fingers in his hair, tugging at the heavy strands were a pleasure he was certain he had never experienced before. At least, he had never felt such pleasure from it.

Touching her was the most erotic thing he had ever done in his life. Fucking her was nirvana. It was the greatest pleasure in the world.

What made this one woman so different? That thought was barely a presence in his mind as her hips arched to his fingers, which were stroking over the damp panel of her silk panties. A fragile moan passed between them as he felt her melting further beneath him.

"Do you know what you do to me?" He groaned as he tore his lips from hers and stroked them over her jaw. "You make me lose control, Marty. Something I swore I would never do."

"It's only fair," she gasped, as he nipped at her neck. "I swore I'd never let you do the things you do to me, either."

Such as sharing her. Such as letting him watch her take another man's cock and seeing the erotic pleasure that suffused her face. His cock hardened more, and he hadn't thought that possible.

"I give you such pleasure, though," he said, his hunger amplifying at the thought of it. "Tell me I don't, precious."

She couldn't, he knew she couldn't.

"Is pleasure enough, Khalid?" Her voice was husky, torn from her as he rubbed at her clit through the silk of her panties.

"With us?" His thumb smoothed over her sweet clit. "Ah, love, the pleasure will never be enough. Because I don't believe I can ever touch you enough, take you enough. You are my eternal hunger."

And he was her guilty pleasure, he thought, with an edge of dissatisfaction. She was never certain if what she was doing would harm her tender heart or strengthen it.

"I will always ensure your greatest pleasure," he promised her, as he lowered his head to rub his lips against hers, knowing they had little time for much else. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">