The Sheik's Son

That they all came to be in the same carriage was not so strange. The duke had been invited to the chateau and Etienne had accompanied Sebastian once to the chateau and had an open invitation to return, so he had arranged to take the duke’s carriage to the country.

But Leila was not expected. Sebastian had asked Etienne to look after his sister and he had. But what he didn’t realize was that Leila was either hell bent on ruin or badly wanted her brother’s best friend.

Her maid did indeed act as chaperone and they had attended a play and one concert. She had enjoyed everything and looked upon Paris with a foreigner’s bright eyes. It was delightful to watch her eyes light up as they walked along a Paris street or attended a concert. Leila relished it all.

But she also enjoyed tormenting Etienne. She sent her maid for a glass of refreshment for them and suddenly her hand was sliding up his thigh. When no one was looking, she had bit his ear, pretending to whisper something. She bent over to retrieve a dropped program, making certain Etienne saw her luscious globes barely restrained inside her dress. She adjusted her skirts inside the box and made sure he had a glimpse of her lovely ankles.

He was at his wit’s end. He had decided to run away to the country like

a whipped boy when he heard of the duke and Sebastian’s trip. It would be just the thing. Unfortunately, Leila had also heard of the journey. She had smiled and beguiled the duke, who could never say no to a woman. He had invited her as his guest to the country as well.

The carriage ride had been a ride through hell and heaven. The duke had fallen asleep across from them and she had placed a blanket over her legs.

He knew she had many skirts and petticoats so he wasn’t even sure how she had done it, but she suddenly whispered to him, “Etienne, feel.”

Swiftly she had taken his hand and placed it under the blanket. He didn’t feel skirts or petticoats, just the silk of her stockings and the sweet texture of her upper thigh. Oh my God, he thought.

He looked into those innocent eyes and shuddered. Had they been alone he would have flung her onto her back without giving it a second thought and given her the pounding she deserved.

Sure, Sebastian would call him to a duel and he would probably die. But before that, he would feel the little witch’s legs wrap around his waist and the sweet grip of her walls around him.

“Why are you doing this, Leila? Why?” he finally muttered the question that he wanted most to know.

She looked confused and then smiled. “I like you, Etienne. Very much.”

He tried to remove his hand but she moved it higher on her thigh. He looked over at the duke but he had turned away from them and was snoring lightly. He looked back at Leila. She was gorgeous. Her brown hair was pinned back and her eyes looked so big in the dark. Her mouth was parted slightly and he could tell she was aroused.

He closed his eyes as she guided him higher up her thigh until he felt the curls. He was so hard and wanted nothing more than to empty his seed inside her.

“Leila, I can’t—” he whispered to her.

“You can,” she whispered back.

Merde!

He pressed a finger against the curls and he saw Leila bite her bottom lip.

“I won’t hurt you,” he assured her.

She smiled in the dark. “I know.” She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth just as his finger slipped inside her wet core. She was deliciously wet and slippery and he could feel the ridges inside her.

A tiny moan escaped her mouth and Etienne smiled. His finger slipped inside her deeper as they kissed, tongues entwining. He imagined his cock inside her anywhere she wanted—against a wall, in a bed, anywhere where he could feel her—oh no! No!

His finger suddenly came upon what he had not thought possible. He had thought she was a little slut who had had been sent to Paris because of a broken engagement or an impending divorce. No. That wasn’t why she had been sent to France. Not at all.

Etienne moved his finger out of her and pressed her back to her side of the carriage with a determined look on his face.

“What happened?” Leila asked, confused.

Etienne wiped his finger against his breeches when all he really wanted was to taste her. “Why were you sent to France, Leila?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered vaguely.

“Wrong answer.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes looked so blue, almost black in the dark.

“What exactly did you think I would find while playing this little game?” he asked bluntly in a harsh whisper.