The Sheikh's Unruly Lover (Almasi Sheikhs 2)

Marian pulled the lever again, letting the flame roar up into the vast arena of the balloon.

“You’re a pro,” Omar said, his hands sliding down the curve of her hips. “It’s pretty sexy.”

Marian lifted a brow. “Is that all it takes to turn a man on? Playing with fire?”

Omar bit his bottom lip, pulling her against him. Their hips knocked together. “See for yourself.”

Marian felt what he was talking about before she saw it, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against his dark slacks. She grinned—men were so easy—and rubbed her crotch against him.

“What are you getting at? You better not think for a second you’ll get me rocking and rolling in this rickety basket.”

Omar grinned devilishly. “No, of course not.” He spun her at the hips, pressing her belly-first against the edge of the basket. Her breath caught in her throat. She gripped the edges as he rolled his groin against her ass, his body seemingly pouring heat into her.

“We can do it this way,” Omar murmured into her ear, his voice almost a growl. He moved his hips in a slow circle. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Taking in the sights.”

A shuddery sigh escaped her. “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

Omar’s big hands moved over her waist

, down to the front of her pants. He unbuttoned them, and they dropped to her ankles. He pushed her panties down, inviting the cool breeze to meet her ass cheeks.

“Yesss,” he said, palming the roundness of her ass. His belt buckle clacked as he undid it, and a moment later his warm, bare cock pressed at the seam of her ass cheeks.

“Mmmm.” Her head dropped as he rubbed his cockhead over the crease of her pussy. The glorious sensation distracted her from worrying about looking down.

“What a lovely way to spend the afternoon,” she murmured a moment later as he placed soft kisses along her neckline. His hands pressed up under her shirt, wedging underneath her bra, firmly clasping each breast in his hands.

“I agree,” he said, his voice husky. His cock slipped between the folds of her pussy, and she arched her ass toward him so he could press further. And then he slipped inside of her, breathtakingly slowly, stretching her out as he pushed deeper. She gasped, clutching the edge of the basket as his own grip tightened on her breasts. He moaned low as he plunged deeper, burying himself inside, the two of them pressed to the edge of the basket like the most erotic sightseeing tourists.

“God, that’s amazing,” she gasped out, once he had wriggled into the last inch of space. When he filled her, her entire body buzzed with happiness. As if he was more than just a hot partner on a business trip. As if somehow, he was meant for her.

“Mmmm.” Omar rocked his hips in a slow circle, his breath hot at her ear. He tweaked a nipple as he did. She let her head fall back against his chest, tendrils of pleasure beginning to unfurl deep inside her.

A light breeze danced across her face, and between the powerful thrusts, she managed to open her eyes and catch cerulean skies, sandy stretches of shoreline. Omar grunted as he worked her. Her breath hitched as the climax came on. She groaned as he picked up the pace, moving a hand from her breast to the V of her legs, a fingertip seeking the tight nub of her clit.

He pinched at it and rolled it between his fingers. She squealed as the orgasm built and then broke through the barrier, washing her body with light and heat and pleasure. Marian quaked in his arms as she came, jerking as the waves subsided. Omar pushed in one more time, stilling against her as a groan drifted from his lips.

The two stood there, breathing heavily against each other. Marian clutched at his bicep, her gaze riveted on the Gulf below.

“Did we really just fuck in a hot air balloon?” She looked back at him, finding amusement in his eyes.

“I don’t know.” He slipped out of her, squeezing an ass cheek as he did. “We should probably try it again just to make sure.”

10

Omar woke up early the next morning. Something nagged at him, had been there all throughout the previous evening, following him into his dreams, and now into the next day. He blinked, staring up at the white ceiling of his penthouse, silk sheets splayed around him.

Was it the deal? He and Marian should have heard from National by the close of business the day before, but amid all their sightseeing, neither had noticed that the call never came. He sighed heavily, draping an arm over his eyes.

He wished Marian were at his side. Was that the nagging feeling? He pushed to sitting, staring at the bedside clock. Six a.m. Too early for a Saturday. Especially considering how wiped out he’d been after their day together: laughing, exploring, making love…

His belly cinched. There it was again. The feeling. But was there any other way to describe what he had done with Marian? He might not love her, but they certainly weren’t fucking. They made love—there was something intimate and loyal there. Even if neither had spoken the words.

He pushed out of bed, rubbing at his eyes on the way to the bathroom. He hadn’t spent the night again, fearing a scandal. But every part of him wanted to stay with her, to wake up with that soft body in his arms, those curls pressed to his face.

Omar grunted as he peed, feeling both alert and sleepy. He stumbled back to his bedroom, intent on getting a few more hours of rest before beginning his day. He had no plans, but he had a feeling something would lead him to Marian.

He lay in bed, drifting in and out of daydreams that segued into sleep. He jolted awake just before eight when a text message came through.