The Sheikh's Blackmailed Bride (Sheikhs of Al-Dashalid 2)

On the other hand…there was the dress.

Five of them had arrived from the dressmaker, and Catelyn had known instantly which one Rami would love the most. She’d sequestered herself in the guest suite earlier in the afternoon with a hairstylist and makeup artist—Adira had insisted on Catelyn using the palace staff—and had lingered over putting the dress on. The fabric was like a dream. Catelyn couldn’t stop running her hands over it, and she wanted Rami to run his hands over it, too. Preferably under it.

One more glance in the mirror, and she was ready to go.

Her heart beat harder on the way down the hall to the far larger and more sumptuous suite she and Rami shared. The way he’d looked at her at the dress fitting had been hot enough to melt glass. Now that she was actually wearing one of those dresses, she imagined those dark eyes would be hot enough to incinerate.

She pushed open the door, her pulse fluttering in her throat. The living room was empty, so she moved through to the walk-in closet and dressing area. The sight of Rami standing in front of the full-length mirror made her pause.

The set of his shoulders was all nervousness. His hands worked at his throat, tying his tie and then undoing it again. He mumbled something under his breath. Tied the tie. Untied it. His motions were choppy, and he let out an impatient sigh. This version of Rami reminded her of the man she’d met in Texas, who said the wrong things and never knew when to quit.

She hovered silently near the door, watching him tie his tie again. The man was so tense. He could really use a blowjob. She licked her bottom lip in anticipation of it. It would be deliciously dirty, to get down on her knees in front of Rami in this closet, in this dress.

“Hi,” she said softly from the door, watching in the mirror as his face lit up in a smile and then, a moment later, the delight reach his eyes as he registered her dress.

He turned away from the mirror, hands falling away from his tie. “Hi.”

Rami’s eyes burned into her. She wouldn’t be surprised if the dress caught fire, the way his gaze raked over it. He crossed the distance between them in an instant. Catelyn’s breath caught as he moved in, his easy dominance over the space at odds with the anxious way he’d been doing and undoing his tie.

A half step away, Rami looked down the length of her, dipping one finger beneath the neckline of her dress to feel the skin beneath. “This is a thousand times better than it looked in the store.”

“Well.” Catelyn reached up and pretended to flip her hair, though it was gathered in a sleek knot at the back of her head. “This one was made for me.”

“I was made for you.” The tone of Rami’s voice sent desire curving down the length of her, straight to the apex of her legs, and she felt her body react to him. No. A blow job was all wrong. Rami preferred to be in control—so she wouldn’t offer him oral sex. She would tempt him into giving it.

Catelyn bit her lip and looked up into Rami’s fine, regal features. She took a half step back.

“What’s this?” Rami narrowed his eyes.

“A surprise,” she said simply, then reached down for the hem of her dress. Inch by inch, she dragged it up to her waist, revealing a pair of jewel-blue panties that matched the color of her dress to perfection. They were an exquisite lace confection, and from the bulge at the front of Rami’s pants, he liked them. A lot.

“Are you trying to torture me?” He choked out. “Now I’ll have to sit at the party knowing those are underneath your dress.”

“If you feel that way—” Catelyn hooked her thumb in the waistband of the panties and tugged them off. “I won’t wear any at all.”

He stepped closer, a low growl escaping his lips, and Catelyn backed out of the dressing room and into the bedroom. She kept going, Rami stalking her, until her ass hit the bed. She hiked up her dress a little higher, exposing her bare pussy to him.

“There’s only one more thing I need for the party.”

“Only one?” Rami said, and then he was lifting her, perching her on the bed, and knocking her knees apart with one firm hand. She gasped at the cool air dancing between her legs. “God,” Rami commented, eyes fixed on that sensitive place. “You came in here on a mission.”

It was becoming difficult to wait like this, spread out on his bed. It was becoming more difficult to picture the end of this—when she signed the papers that would divorce them and that would be the end of it. Of the flirting, of the parties, of— Before she could think any more about it, Rami fell to his knees.

His breath on her pussy made her squirm with impatience. “Oh, please—” She clutched at the comforter on the bed as Rami’s low laughter filled the air. He kissed the inside of her thigh, then an inch closer, then another inch. “You’re very, very wicked,” she said through clenched teeth. “You are a wicked man, Rami, and I—”

“How wicked?”

He stole her answer out of her mouth when he licked up the length of her. The jolt of pleasure stole the air from her lungs. He licked again, strong and forceful, then gentle and soft, and Catelyn’s hips rocked back and forth of their own volition. Rami pinned her with his hands, holding her in place, and it only made her hotter as he swirled his tongue around her clit, sucking gently and then attacking it again with his tongue.

Just when she thought she might implode, he backed off, teasing her with little licks around her opening and then—when she couldn’t take it, when she said his name, when she begged—he devoured her again.

Catelyn arched back against the bed, pressing up into his mouth, and rode the wave of her first release.

But Rami wasn’t done with her yet.

Even while she shuddered beneath him, he did not relent, and soon she found her muscles tightening, the desire coiling low in her belly—and it unleashed itself again.

“Okay,” she gasped, barely able to force the word out, her body ringing with the pleasure. “Okay.”