The Sheikh's Stubborn Assistant (The Sharif Sheikhs 3)

“Seriously?” She frowned. “What man doesn’t love a blow job?”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m really not. I was a little buzzed, but my head is clear now. Give up some of that control, Khalid. Just enjoy.” Feeling empowered, she leaned forward and touched her tongue to the head of his cock.

It jumped, and he leaned against the railing. Immediately, she knew she had him.

Teasing him, she squeezed and swirled her tongue around him until his heavy breaths turned into a moan.

“Katie,” he grunted as he wrapped her hair around his fist.

Smiling, she ran her thumb under the base and looked at him. “Yes, Sheikh?”

“Minx,” he muttered. “Suck me, Katie. I want to feel your mouth around me. Please, baby.”

It was the closest she was ever going to get to hearing him beg.

Licking her lips, she opened up and took him deep.

He was gentle with her, small thrusts, loud moans. His legs shook, but when she thought she finally had him, he pulled away.

“Hey!” she protested, but she let him push her to the ground and unzip her jeans. She was already wet for him when he pulled up her knees and entered her.

She lost control, but she didn’t care.

He loved her right there on the patio, and it was all she could do not to admit that she needed more than just his body.

She needed his heart.

12

His actions over the next few days hardly surprised her. He was gone when she woke up the next morning, and there was a note letting her know that a driver would take her home. He was also gone the next weekend, claiming that he was meeting with an appraiser for the collection.

She was hurt, but she tried not to show it.

When he returned to the gallery the following Monday, he could barely look at her. When she did catch a glimpse of his eyes, it was enough to make her stomach clench. He’d given her something precious that weekend, a little too much control, a little too much intimate knowledge of himself, and now he could barely face her.

Ticket sales dropped even further. She’d hoped that when people heard about the Greek collection, they’d make some inquiries through the website, but Khalid didn’t even want to advertise.

It made no sense.

“Sheikh Khalid?” she asked. She cleared her throat and knocked on his door.

He paused before looking up. “Yes, Katie?” There was a touch of annoyance in his voice.

“You didn’t mention whether you’d gotten the Greek collection appraised.”

He returned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. “No, I did not.”

“You also haven’t mentioned anything about advertising. We should make an announcement on our social media pages. Now might be a good time to start a newsletter. We could mention that we have exciting news, and anyone who signs up for the newsletter will hear about it first.”

He looked up and glared. “Katie, you’re not seriously still pushing this email subscription idea of yours, are you?” he barked.

She wanted to turn and run, but her hesitation was quickly turning to anger. “Fine. No email. We could set up a virtual event about the opening day of the collection.” She paused and held up a staying hand to forestall the objections she could see forming on his face. “I’m not suggesting a huge event, but some food vendors outside, and maybe add something to the children’s wing so they can have something to do while their parents are viewing the Greek collection. I’m not sure it would be appropriate for anyone younger than a teenager, even if it is ancient art.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Katie? You are not a curator! Your job is to file my papers and look pretty at the host stand!”

He could have slapped her, and it would have hurt less.