“How dirty,” Issam said disapprovingly, and then his hands were gone from her thighs. “An intelligent woman like you, begging to be fucked…” She opened her eyes enough to watch him undo his buckle and shove his pants and boxers to the floor.
The sight of him—the sight of him nearly undid her. He was long and muscular, and his cock was thick, jutting proudly away from his body. Issam took it in his hand, his eyes piercing her.
“This is what you want.” It wasn’t a question.
“Issam.” Her voice was deadly serious. “Please. Please fuck me. I can’t wait any longer. I need—” Words failed her.
He was on her in a flash, pinning her down to the bed and thrusting inside of her in one smooth movement. Mackenzie was overwhelmed by the clean scent of him, by the strength of his thrusts. He filled her, stretching her, and it was as if he was made for her.
It was supposed to be convenient. Not for love. Certainly not for lust. A marriage to let them narrowly avoid death in many stripes.
But right now, with Issam driving into her, Mackenzie felt…fulfilled.
And not just because the head of his cock bumped against the deepest parts of her with every roll of his hips.
The next moment, he pushed in hard and turned them both as if she weighed nothing.
There it was—that feeling of being invincible.
Issam’s hands pulled her down hard onto him, and Mackenzie braced herself against his chest.
“The smartest woman I’ve ever known,” Issam said through clenched teeth. “Riding me with total abandon—”
She rode harder.
Harder.
Until—
“Stop.”
Mackenzie froze. The only sound in the room was their panting breaths.
“Why?” she whispered.
“I want you to feel every moment of this.”
Issam pulsed inside of her, his grip tight enough to bruise her hips, and then he unleashed an orgasm so strong it set her off. Somehow, though she was on top, she felt totally under his control, and the fact of being held in his big hands, unable to escape his pleasure, made hers that much more intense. She clenched around him, and when he pinched one of her nipples between his fingers, she screamed.
He didn’t bother to cover her mouth.
11
The tasting had been a wild success. They had destroyed one of the guest rooms on the terrace level, and Issam had looked at her afterward like he wanted to invite her to his rooms and keep her there forever.
But he hadn’t.
“After the wedding,” he’d said when they finally emerged from the room. Mackenzie’s legs were still shaking. Something flashed across his expression when he said it, but she hadn’t been able to pinpoint the meaning—did he crave honor? Did he not trust her?
Or was he, like her, dazed from the sex they’d had?
In the end, it didn’t matter. She’d slept deeply and restfully and woken before the sunrise, opting to do a quick workout in her rooms. There were tons of bodyweight CrossFit moves that she could put together in an endless routine, and by the time the knock came at her door she was dressed and ready for the day. She’d forsaken her lucky suit and chosen a heather gray sheath dress instead. It would look perfect when she sat at the meeting table across from Issam.
The message came early in the morning, but Mackenzie was ready.
Mackenzie went to the door with her head held high. When she opened it, she found a servant on the other side holding a tray. On the tray was an envelope.
“A message from Sheikh Issam,” the woman said, then dipped her head and went away.