Sheikh's Scandalous Mistress

hould be fired and blacklisted. I have no doubt that when unbridled, Senator Jackson has all that power. He may have more,” she added, her eyes clouding with dark thoughts, their blue somehow dampened even as her voice grew low and thoughtful.

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look him directly in the eyes. “Are you in physical danger?”

“I can’t let that bother me.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he said, feeling fear flare through his gut.

He’d known his share of power-hungry dignitaries and rulers among the allies of Abu Dhabi. There were definitely men among them that he knew would stop at nothing to eliminate threats. Somehow, he was getting the feeling that his reporter was underplaying the danger she was in, that this Jackson was not a man who would take resistance or exposes lightly.

If at all.

“He’s not tried anything since I got here. That’s all I know. I think he was happy to basically bury my career, but you know that old saying about phoenixes rising from the ashes,” she said, a hungry glint now back in her eyes. That worried him as well. It was one thing to be brave but quite another to be downright foolhardy. “I just am in journalistic hell.”

“But there are worthy stories here. You can tell people about the gallery, about the work we’re doing to help with the hidden people of Abu Dhabi. There are stories everywhere, things you can see even before you return to DC, things that you dismiss from the surface. Everywhere has stories, even the vapid and fashionable.”

“I think I’m starting to realize that—that there’s so much more beneath the surface,” she said, her voice a throaty purr, like a siren in some 40s film. “I wouldn’t have seen you.”

“Then that would have been a tragedy,” Amir replied, pushing the worry about his brave reporter away for a bit longer. He’d put some of his best men on investigating the senator, regardless of what she wanted. After all, she was currently his and no one hurt those he cared about. But for now, he had other plans. Nefarious plans in his own way. “But I do think you need to find that there are stories everywhere. I think there are, and what I want to know is what’s underneath that dress of yours, reporter.”

***

The bath smelled heavenly; it was scented with rose petals, jasmine, and sumptuous oils. The bubbles were brimming and steam was rising from it, although Amanda wasn’t even sure that bath was the right word. The tub before them was massive, at least eight-by-eight feet. It could have been a small pool, and quite the sight to behold with intricate, brightly colored tiles, set in a cavalcade of shapes from octagons to diamonds.

Amir stood before her on the other side of the bath. Slipping off his robes, he let the fabric fall to his feet and stepped away from it. Amanda watched all of this, licking her lips with anticipation and interest. She’d been right in her estimation of his body—his shoulders were broad, his skin so tawny and gleaming, and the ridges of his eight pack so apparent that she could have done laundry on them. His hips narrowed and all of his rippling, taut muscles led to a thatch of black hair over his groin. Already springing from it was his manhood, rigid and ready for her.

Licking her lips again, she divested herself of her own dress and started into the bath, relishing the heat of the water as it kissed her skin. Amanda watched as he entered the bath as well, his erection visible even through the bubbling water. It had been too long since the lap dance and far too long since yesterday, since he’d made her come and shattered her.

She needed him again.

Needed to feel more than just his fingers in her channel.

Their bodies met in a collision of passion and exhilaration. Amanda pressed herself up against his body, feeling the girth of his manhood against her belly. Amir smelled not only of the perfume of the bathtub, but also of sandalwood and his own musky scent, something that was pure male and called to her most atavistic self. It was a good thing they were already in the bubbling liquid because she was wet already.

So very prepared for him.

“I want to taste you,” he said, purring in her ear.

She wanted to taste him, as well, and she was glad for the playful way physics behaved in water, the positions they could play with as they floated. Together, even as they pawed at each other, they moved their way to the ledge of the tub, a shelf for sitting and laying down on its edge. But now she had a very good idea what else it could offer. Amir laid down first, and she wanted to climb him like a jungle gym to feel those ropey muscles in her hands.

“I want you to straddle me, Amanda. I’ve been dying to taste you since last night, since you came on my hand and coated me with your ambrosia.”

It surprised her that she had no shame left, not when she could gaze upon Amir’s naked body with urgency. Sliding up on his skin, almost in a trance, Amanda shimmied backward over him until she positioned herself—her womanhood—over his waiting mouth. He suckled at her rosebud, teasing it first with delicate pressure from his teeth before he drew the sensitive nub as deeply between his lips as he could.

Rolling her eyes back in her head, she gave herself over to the sensation, gave in to the feeling of heat swirling throughout her body, starting from her innermost channel. It was like a trickle of lava coursing through her veins. But she had to be fair. Angling herself as best she could, she lowered her mouth to his manhood, taking his thick member between her lips. At first, it was so difficult to concentrate as his tongue continued its assault on her pulsing pearl. Amir laved at it with a skill she couldn’t have possibly imagined, and it was a very good thing they were both laying down, because she felt her knees give out from under her and her leg muscles turn to nothing under high onslaught.

Still, she was always a big believer in fairness, and she wanted to pay her part. Twirling her tongue around the tip of his hardness, she took in the taste of him, the raw masculinity of him. Then she went to work, doing her best to suck and lave at his member. Even as she twisted her tongue creatively over his shaft, Amir continued to flick his tongue at a pace that couldn’t be human against her rosebud.

It was no longer just a trickle of lava in her veins. Now it was a rushing current, an atomic heat surging through her very being. Then his tongue plunged deep inside of her and she screamed, feeling the volcano erupt even as she shivered under his talented tongue. But she couldn’t break her focus, and even as her body trembled with her orgasm, she worked harder, playing with his member until he came for her as well, his seed spilling out into her mouth.

When it was done, both of them rolled into the water and cleaned themselves, breathing as if they’d run a marathon. She glided through the water for a bit, taking a lap in the pool-sized tub before she rejoined him. A million thoughts were echoing through her head, and not one of them was about Senator Jackson. She had so many other things in her mind: the ecstasy still flowing through her limbs, the adoration she felt for Amir and his honesty, the hidden depths and kindness of the sheikh she’d not anticipated before, and the unfamiliar sensation of hope bubbling through her chest and to the rest of her limbs.

Part of her wished she didn’t have to leave for wherever Harris sent her next. And yet, another voice was speaking in her ear, reminding her that she never did what she wanted, what made her happy. She worked for what she thought would make her late mother proud. It had been so long since she felt this good. Dear God, had she ever felt this good?

Couldn’t she be irresponsible a bit longer?

Did it even matter anymore?

She finished her lap and came to rest again on top of her sheikh, grinning a bit at the way his length teased against her rear. He was already semi-hard again, and she loved how eager he was for her. She’d never had a man in her life be that eager, or been looked at by any lover like she was a steak he was waiting to devour.