She took him instead to the modern art wing. He liked that more, wondered at the price of a Picasso, and said, “Art would be a good investment. I really must look into a gallery in New York—and yes, it will have a café next door, too.” He gave her a long look, but she wouldn’t be drawn back into talking about that idea. She’d had enough of trying to make a go of a restaurant in New York.
She was also too aware of him—his scent, his body, his touch.
Since meeting him, she’d had more fantasies come to life than she’d thought possible. He could just look at her with those hot, dark eyes and she’d start to get wet. Even though they’d had each other just about every way possible, she wanted to get back to the hotel room with him.
One more night.
That was all they had.
George had already texted her a dozen questions, and she could easily imagine he was having trouble juggling the clients they were trying to line up for two weddings in the fall and the holidays needed to be booked, and suppliers would be calling for orders and payment. But she wanted this last evening with Ahmed.
He turned now, saw her looking at him and a smile curved his lips. “The hotel? Are you hungry again?”
“Always,” she said.
The sedan took them back. They didn’t bother with dinner, but started to strip each other as soon as the door closed behind them. Ahmed walked her out onto the terrace, shedding clothes as they went.
“And just where are you taking me?” she asked. “Do you know where the bedroom is?”
“Who needs a bed?”
She shivered. “Hard to snuggle outside.”
He laughed, took her hand and led her up the stairs to the loft overlooking the rest of his suite.
At the top of the stairs, he turned her around and kissed her, his lips soft. He held her face in his hands, and she felt herself melt. She reached for the buttons on his vest, opening it and sliding it off his shoulders. He pulled one hand away, then the other, letting it fall to the floor.
He’d worn just the light jacket, trousers and an open-neck shirt. She had on the summer dress he’d bought for her—something silk, splashed with color like a garden, and ridiculously expensive. She reached for the straps, but he put his hands on hers. “Keep it on.”
Reaching under her skirt, he pulled off her underwear—also bought, also silk and black bits of lace that barely did the job. Her legs she’d kept bare and shaved. She left her sandals on, too.
With a smile that promised trouble, Ahmed reached up under her skirt and stroked into her wetness, his fingers sending shivers through her. She was shaking with desire. She clutched at his shoulders.
“Come for me,” he whispered.
She did.
When she could breathe again and open her eyes, Ahmed smiled. “Now for the bed.”
He turned her. The edge of the mattress knocked against the backs of her legs. Ahmed eased her down onto its welcoming softness. He pushed her dress up around her hips and then straightened. Pulling off his jacket and shirt, he smiled again.
She couldn’t help smiling back. He was perfect. Rippling muscles on his chest, a spray of dark hair, more muscles on his arms, and abs that would do a marine proud. The guy might be rich, but he also worked out. And then she couldn’t wait any longer.
She spread her legs and beckoned for him to come closer with a finger. He shook his head and headed to the nightstand to grab a condom. She hated the need for that, but he was smart to take precautions. He stripped and slipped on the condom. He looked so damn big, his cock jutting out like that. He also shaved his balls and she’d never had a man who did that. She loved it, though, when they slapped against her as he pounded in hard.
Rolling up onto her knees, she kept her skirt around her hips and wiggled her bare ass. “Do me like this.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Do me hard. Really hard. I want to still be feeling you inside me tomorrow.”
He grinned, wrapped his fingers around his girth and gave his cock a stroke. She licked her lips.
Slipping onto the bed, he came up and knelt behind her. She gripped the headboard. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he slid inside her.
She couldn’t stop the moan that came from somewhere deep inside her, the moan that turned to a whimper as he drew himself from her, leaving her empty.
“Please,” she begged, gripping the headboard tighter. “Harder. More.”
“Whatever you wish,” he whispered into her ear, his beard tickling. He pushed in with a hard thrust. Pleasure shot through her body in a spike that left her shivering. She moaned again and arched her back as pleasure threatened to spill over into pain.
He withdrew slowly again, and then thrust back j